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imagined tonight would be a better time to celebrate. What was a holiday when compared with the wee lass being rescued from his neglect?
    A shiver rolled through him when he remembered the feel of her cold hand in his. He’d never felt such on a person who yet lived. But perhaps children were different, turning cold as quickly as they warmed. He would just have to keep her with him at all times until she was big enough to make her own heat, that was all.
    He prepared enough mulled wine for two, enough buttermilk for three, then put it all on a heavy tray with the food and hurried back to the parlor. He stopped short, however, when he realized he’d interrupted.
    The woman was stripping off her clothes before the fire. The child watched in wonder, but he doubted the look on his face was quite the same.
    Her coat was draped around the shoulders of a chair. Her strange red boots sat together on the floor, the firelight glancing across their surface made it appear as if they were made of glass. Upon the seat lay the neatly folded black tunic that sparkled as if covered in stars. What strange clothes they wore in America. The tartan gown she was currently lifting off her head was of poor quality; he could nearly see through the plaid material.
    But alas, she was still wearing breeches beneath—not that he’d wished otherwise, of course. It would not do, after all, to have the younger lass believe that stripping oneself bare was appropriate behavior for the parlor.
    He took a moment to be pleased over his new fatherly attitude. Perhaps he might be a passable guardian after all. If he could only keep the cherub alive. She was like some wee lamb that needed him to watch over her as she grew—and likely to keep the wolves away once she was full-grown.
    He shook his head, disgusted with himself, standing there judging other wolves while he himself watched a woman remove her clothes.
    There were a surprising lot of them and she was growing leaner by the moment. And younger as well.
    He only watched with one eye as she removed one sweater, then another. A rather over-large shirt came off next. But when she bent to push a pair of odd gray breeches from her legs, he closed his eyes completely. Unfortunately, the hour had weakened his will and his eyes flew open again of their own accord, only to find she wore yet another pair of breeches. Only the last were cut off just at the knee. Between that point and the tops of her sadly short stockings, her legs were bare for all and sundry to see!
    Finally, it looked as if she had removed all she was going to, though he waited a moment to be sure. Then he cleared his throat in case she meant to cover her legs before he walked fully into the room. Instead, she sat to one side of the cherub, which left room for him on the opposite side. At the moment, he thought it might be wiser to go sit outside in the snow than to sit so close to the pile of clothes so recently wrapped around the woman’s body. For she was, indeed a woman, though much younger and more fit than he could have imagined beneath all that cloth.
    Indeed, since the distraction of her substantial girth had been removed, he was better able to appreciate how lovely was Miss Brianna Colby. Her expressive blue eyes caught him staring and she blushed. The fire had dried her hair to a fairy blond, which looked even whiter next to the pink of her skin.
    Silently, he sent the Man in the Moon a begrudging thank you . Aloud, he asked, “Were ye wearing everything you have, lass?” He placed the tray on a small table and moved it all in front of the fire before taking the seat open to him.
    She laughed. It was an honest laugh, not like the ladies at court who flirted freely with him and would wed his money and titles without a thought to his grandmother’s reputation. He wondered how much of this one’s story had been as honest as her laugh.
    “I was wearing everything I could find in my suitcase, actually. If I could have figured out how