It Starts With a Kiss: A Very Merry Fairbanks Christmas (Those Very Bad Fairbanks Book 9) by Alyssa Clarke

Author:Alyssa Clarke [Clarke, Alyssa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Darkan Press Inc.
Published: 2024-01-10T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Something about the woman who had been discreetly watching Grayson with wide, regretful doe eyes for the last few days moved him in an almost tangible way. Today marked their fourth day in the cottage, and he had been careful not to kiss her again. They played chess daily, and Maggie beat him several times. She would then curl onto the chaise and sleep.

This was her current state, nestled on the chaise, drifting into slumber. As the book slipped from her grasp, he moved swiftly, catching it before it hit the floor, mindful of not disturbing her peaceful slumber. Observing her awkward position on the chaise, he decided it couldn’t be comfortable for her. With a gentle stoop, he slid his hands beneath her, lifting her gently into his arms.

She stirred and crossly muttered something. Grayson smiled and gently lowered her to the bed. Her sleep had been restless these past nights, and she often tossed well into the night until he drew her into his arms. Maggie always came willingly, and within minutes, she would be asleep. For him, however, it was a different story. As Maggie slept soundly, he would find himself tortured by hours of unfulfilled desire until exhaustion finally overcame him, granting him some respite.

Though a part of him understood her reasons for demanding discretion, Grayson also resented it. He longed to find a woman who would appreciate him for the man he was rather than his title or position. If he were to disclose his identity as an earl, Maggie might easily succumb to the allure of his social standing and become his lover.

And that stung.

Yet, he recognized the societal pressures that had led her to demand secrecy, and he harbored no ill feelings toward her for it.

However, Grayson was determined never to reveal his status to Maggie. As the days seemed to stretch endlessly, with perhaps only three more days remaining in their snowbound seclusion, Grayson cherished the unguarded conversations and laughter. He liked the experience of being treated as nothing more than an ordinary man.

Unable to help himself, he touched her cheek with his fingertips, encountering skin as soft and smooth as a rose petal.

“Grayson,” she murmured, “I am cold.”

He took the blanket and fitted it around her. Maggie sighed, and it sounded so contented that the sound traveled to empty spaces he’d not known were inside him and filled him with longing. A gurgle came from her stomach, and he grinned. They had not eaten since she made oatmeal porridge this morning.

He went into the kitchen, determined to fix something. She needed sleep, and when she woke, Maggie would be ravenous. Grayson watched her whenever she cooked, so he deftly lit the earthen stove, filled a pot with water, and set it on. Going through the larder, he took down the flour and stared at it for a long time.

He scowled and put it back. The lemon cake was all gone, and so were the marzipan and gingerbread. Everything seemed to require cooking.

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