Someone -- or something -- is causing magical blizzards at Fairleigh Hall. The estate is suffering, and the Earl has requested assistance. Constable Kit Thompson, of Bow Street’s Preternatural Division, isn’t especially thrilled to be sent out to the country. At least the assignment gets him away from fashionable London society and his own unwanted celebrity after successfully solving a notorious case. Of course, he’s now trapped at a country estate due to closed roads, snowstorms, and magic, but Kit’s always liked solving puzzles. He’s good at using empathic skills for investigations, and this is definitely a challenge. Besides, the Earl’s younger brother is an irritating and delicious temptation, all blue eyes and muscles and boundless enthusiastic optimism. Kit wants to either shake sense into him or kiss him senseless -- and can’t trust him, either, because if someone’s genuinely sabotaging the weather, everyone’s a suspect. Harry Arden, younger brother of the Earl of Fairleigh, has never met a Preternatural Division constable before, much less a famous and celebrated one. He wants to help. And he wants to make that attractive but cynical constable smile, at least once. But the estate hides a family secret, and Harry knows perfectly well Kit doesn’t trust him ... and for good reason. Still, Harry offers to do what he can to assist with the investigation, and if that means spending more time with Kit, that’s a bonus. When Harry and Kit end up caught by those magical storms, snowed in together at the old hunting lodge, they’ll have to trust each other with their secrets ... and their hearts.

Snowed In: Kit and Harry

As if he had betrayed those eyes somehow. By not revealing his full name. Ridiculous.


“No.” Harry sounded abashed. Chastened, even. Dropping that gaze to the study rug and his own feet. Kit’s guilt got hotter. “No, of course it doesn’t. I ought to’ve been polite about it in any case. My apologies.”


“We do get the news even out in the wilds of Yorkshire,” Edward said, a fraction too close to Kit’s own sentiments for comfort. “And we know your name. Isn’t our weather a bit dull, after magically forged royal seals and rooftop pursuits?”


“It was one seal,” Kit said. “And one rooftop. And he didn’t even put up a fight.”


“Yes,” Harry contributed, forgetting to be forlorn and silent, “because you stopped him, you stood up there and read his thoughts, his heart, and you convinced him to give up his life of crime and permanently repent—”


“Is thatwhat they’re saying happened? Bloody gods of bloody holly and oak—” A lady present. Damn. “Apologies, Miss Featherdale.”


Chapter 5