the blog, complete with several photographs, that she’d promised would be ready to view by midnight.
Midnight wasn’t that far away...
‘Okay.’ Her voice sounded very small in the empty darkness but talking aloud gave her a sense of normality. ‘One, I can go into the village. It’s only a couple of miles.’ Surely the walking would warm up her feet? ‘Two, I can try and scoop the worst of the snow off...’ She cast a doubtful glance at the rest of the car park. The ever heavier snowfall had obliterated her footprints; it was like standing on a thick, very cold white carpet. An ankle-deep carpet. ‘Three...’ She was out of options. Walk or scoop, that was it.
‘Three—I get you some snow chains.’
Daisy didn’t quite manage to stifle a small screech as deep masculine tones broke in on her soliloquy. She turned, almost losing her footing in her haste, and skidded straight into a fleece-clad chest.
It was firm, warm, broad. Not a ghost. Probably not a werewolf. Or a vampire. Supernatural creatures didn’t wear fleece as far as she knew.
‘Where did you come from? You frightened the life out of me.’ Daisy stepped back, scowling at her would-be rescuer. At least she hoped he was a rescuer.
‘I was just locking up. I thought all the wedding guests were long gone.’ His gaze swept over her. ‘You’re hardly dressed for this weather.’
‘I was dressed for a wedding.’ She tugged the hem of her silk dress down. ‘I’m not a guest though, I’m the photographer.’
‘Right.’ His mouth quirked into a half smile. The gesture changed his rather severe face into something much warmer. Something much more attractive. He was tall—taller than Daisy who, at nearly six feet, was used to topping most men of her acquaintance—with scruffy dark hair falling over his face.
‘Photographer or guest you probably don’t want to be hanging around here all night so I’ll get some chains and we’ll try and get this tin can of yours on the road. You really should put on some winter tyres.’
‘It’s not a tin can and there’s very little call for winter tyres in London.’
‘You’re not in London,’ he pointed out silkily.
Daisy bit her lip. He had a point and she wasn’t really in any position to argue. ‘Thank you.’
‘No worries, wouldn’t want you to freeze to death on the premises. Think of the paperwork. Talking of which, you’re shivering. Come inside and warm up. I can lend you some socks and a coat. You can’t drive home like that.’
Daisy opened her mouth to refuse and then closed it again. He didn’t seem like an axe murderer and she was getting more and more chilled by the second. If it was a choice between freezing to death and taking her chances inside she was definitely veering towards the latter. Besides... ‘What time is it?’
‘About eleven, why?’
She’d never get home in time to post the blog. ‘I don’t suppose...’ She tried her most winning smile, her cheeks aching with the cold. ‘I don’t suppose I can borrow your Wi-Fi first? There’s something I really need to do.’
‘At this time of night?’
‘It’s part of my job. It won’t take long.’ Daisy gazed up at him hoping her eyes portrayed beseeching and hopeful with a hint of professionalism, not freezing cold and pathetic. Their eyes snagged and the breath hitched in her throat.
‘I suppose you can use it while you warm up.’ The smile was still playing around his mouth and Daisy’s blood began to heat at the expression in his eyes. If he turned it up a little more she wouldn’t need a jumper and socks, her own internal system would have defrosted her quite nicely.
He held out a hand. ‘Seb, I look after this place.’
Daisy took the outstretched hand, her heart skipping a beat as their fingers touched. ‘I’m Daisy. Nice to meet you, Seb.’
He didn’t answer, reaching out and taking her bag, shouldering it with ease as he turned and began to tread gracefully through the ever thickening snow.
‘“Mark my footsteps, my good page,”’ Daisy sang under her breath as she took advantage of the pressed-down snow and hopped from one imprint to the other. Tall, dark, handsome and coming to her rescue on Valentine’s Day? It was almost too good to be true.
Six weeks later...
DÉJÀ-VU RIPPLED DOWN Daisy’s spine as she rounded the path. It was all so familiar and yet so different.
The last time she had been at Hawksley the castle and grounds had been covered in snow, a fantasy winter wonderland straight out of a historical film. Today the courtyard lawn was the pale green of spring, crocuses and primroses peeking out at the unseasonably warm sun. The old Norman keep rose majestically on her left, the thick grey stone buttresses looking much as they must have looked nearly one thousand years ago, a stark contrast to ye olde charm of the three-storey Tudor home attached to it at right angles.
And straight ahead of her the Georgian house.
Daisy swallowed, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run. She could wait a few weeks, try again then. Maybe try a letter instead. After all, it was still such early days...
But no. She straightened her shoulders. That was the coward’s way out and she had been raised better than that. Confront your problems head-on, that was what her father always told her.
Besides, she really needed to talk to somebody. She didn’t want to face her family, not yet, and none of her friends would understand. He was the only person who this affected in the same way.
Or not. But she had to take the risk.
Decision made, smile plastered on and she was ready to go. If she could just find him that was...
The castle had a very closed-off air. The small ticket office was shut, a sign proclaiming that the grounds and keep wouldn’t be open until Whitsun. Daisy swivelled trying to find signs of life.
Nobody.
There was a small grey door set at the end of the Georgian wing, which she recognised from her earlier visit. It was as good a place to start as any.
Daisy walked over, taking her time and breathing in the fresh spring air, the warm sun on her back giving her courage as she pushed at the door.
‘Great.’ It was firmly locked and there was no bell, ‘You’d think they didn’t want visitors,’ she muttered. Well, want them or not she was here. Daisy knocked as hard as she could, her knuckles smarting at the impact, then stood back and waited, anticipation twisting her stomach.
The door swung open. Slowly. Daisy inhaled and held her breath. Would he remember her?
Would he believe her?
A figure appeared at the door. She exhaled, torn between disappointment and a secret
