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Snowed In: Kit and Harry

Someone -- or something -- is causing magical blizzards at Fairleigh Hall. The estate is suffering, and the Earl has requested assistance.<br><br>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.<br><br>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. <br><br>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.

K.L. Noone · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
35 Chs

Chapter 6

The wrongness existed, though. A quicksilver dazzling chill fought against the warmth, like the shock of metal in winter, cruel as frozen skin and blood.

Kit tried to poke at this iceberg, wondering vaguely if it had to do with the family secret, and promptly ran into a big stalwart wall of blue and gold and russet protectiveness.

The Arden brothers felt like shields and stones and strong earthworks buttressing each other, roots entwined in complex twisting ways; beside them, Elizabeth Featherdale shimmered leaf-green and lemon-yellow and lush and quick as forests in sun, branches sharing shelter with Edward’s less substantial presence.

And Harry Arden—