She snorted.
“Did you not threaten to drown me once, too?”
Sara smiled. “You took my favorite doll! Of course I threatened to drown you, for what other option did I have? You’ve always been taller!”
“Death is a very unladylike threat.”
“Funny, I’ve never felt very ladylike.”
“Impossible.” He stopped walking, causing her to stumble forward. “You act like a lady.” He offered a heart-stopping smile. “Sometimes.” Jackson released her arm and began to slowly circle her as if she was a zebra, and he a lion. “You look like a lady, save for that constant venomous glare you often save for me and only me…” He stopped directly behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You are… every inch the lady, the lady, I am sure, many a woman tries to measure up to… and fails.”
Sara gasped, unable to help her reaction as her chilled body suddenly filled with warmth from her slippered toes all the way up to her chest — the sore chest, the chest that held the heart that cautioned her to not allow it to break — again.
“What are you about, Jack?” she whispered, unable to keep her voice from trembling. “Is this a true cease fire?”
“It is,” he said softly. “But, before I lay down my pistol for good… a simple game. Winner takes all.”
“Oh?” Her heart leapt. ”What is this game, and what shall I win?”
“So certain?”
“I never lose,” she snapped, feigning an arrogance she didn’t feel.
Jack moved to her side and pointed with a gloved hand. “The maze, we’ve both been through it now… I shall race you, without clues, to the end. It must be done entirely of memory. If you beat me, I shall give you the cease fire you so desperately want, and I will leave first thing this evening, never to bother you again.”
It was what she wanted. Right?
Confused, she stared down at the frosted glass. “Good.” It was said completely without conviction. “And if you win?”
“A kiss,” he said in a low whisper. “I get a kiss.”
Her eyes widened in horror. It was a bad idea. A terrible idea, she would be left exposed, vulnerable, all over again.
But if she won.
She glanced back at the maze, her eyes quickly calculating all the different ways to be free of the ice and make it to the other side.
“Afraid?” he taunted in her ear, the whispered word no less than a challenge.
With a shiver she took a step back and held out her hand. “Deal.”
He gripped her fingers tightly and smiled wickedly. “Ready. Set. Go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
EITHER WAY, HE WOULD win, but she need not know that. After leaving the ball he’d rummaged around the maze only to see her staring out at the garden, completely unaware of his dark mood. Her eyes were lifted towards the moon. She’d looked like an angel — as beams of light streamed across her soft face.
And he knew.
In that moment.
If he was going to burn.
If he was going to get rejected.
If he was going to live out the rest of his days without her — he needed to at least know for sure, that it was because she had no interest.
Let her say it to his face.
Let him stop living with justifications.
No more before Sara.
No more afters.
No more because of Sara.
He needed her to be the solution — not the problem. And she would always be the problem, if he allowed her to be. Therefore, one more game.
For old times’ sake.
For Sara.
He fastened the mistletoe directly above the end of the maze where it was well lit, and made his way back into house to set about challenging her.
She was never able to turn down a chance at besting him.
And he knew it, regardless of how she felt about him.
She would jump at the opportunity to eradicate him from her life — the only jarring part was how fast she’d agreed.
Did she want him gone so desperately?
“Ready. Set. Go!” The words left his lips as Sara raced past him. He allowed it, because he’d walked through the maze thrice now. In her desire to win, she would be blinded by the second turn.
He quickly ran after her, and took a left, then another right. He saw the flutter of her skirts as she raced ahead.
Jack’s breathing came out in short laborious bursts as the cold froze to his lungs, coating his throat and every other useful organ he’d need come Christmas morning.
The end was in sight.
But Sara was nowhere to be seen.
He frowned, glancing from left to right, ready to turn on his heel and run in search of her when he heard a yelp and then ”Jackson!”
She never used his full name.
Not unless he was in trouble — or she was in trouble.
Panicked, he raced back through. “Sara? Are you alright? Where are you?”
“Here!” Her voice was weak, defeated.
“Say something else,” he called out. “So I can locate you.”
“Something else.”
He chuckled. “You can do better, Sara.”
“I hate you!”
“More talking, less threatening.”