Page 17 of The Gargoyle and the Songbird

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“What kind of surprise?” I ask cautiously, trying not to panic.

Minx chirrups inquisitively, her little head cocked. I stroke a soothing hand between her ears.

“I thought it would be hilarious to put you in one of the special enchanted rooms for old times’ sake. You know, like when we were kids.” Mariah’s smile turns even more sheepish. “And with all the last-minute wedding craziness, I kind of… gave away all the other rooms already.”

Special enchanted rooms. Oh no.

I have an awful, dawning suspicion about where this is headed.

“Mariah,” I say slowly, pitching my voice low, though I’m sure Graeme can still hear me. Damn those heightened gargoyle senses. “Which room did you put me in?”

Mariah bites her lip. “Uhh. The honeymoon suite?” Her voice lilts up at the end, like it’s a question.

I stare at her, jaw slack.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t have.

But the barely contained glee dancing across her face tells me that oh yes, she absolutely could have. And did.

Beside me, Graeme shifts, clearing his throat.

“The honeymoon suite,” he repeats, voice a low rumble. “Is that… will that be a problem? Sounds like it should be spacious enough for both of us?”

Heat floods my cheeks. “Yes! I mean no! No, no problem at all,” I assure him, voice pitched a bit too high. “It’s just, um. Very… themed.”

Mariah snorts, not even trying to hide her amusement now. I shoot her a glare before turning back to Graeme, making my best attempt to school my features.

“But hey, yeah, plenty of room, right? Shall we?”

I don’t wait for his response, just snatch the antique room key from Mariah’s hand and march toward the stairs. Graeme’s heavy footfalls thump behind me, and I can practically sense his stony disapproval boring into my back.

This is fine, I tell myself as we climb.

Totally fine. So what if I’m about to be trapped in a wildly inappropriate, romance-drenched room with my insanely hot, infuriatingly grumpy bodyguard?

Who I absolutely do not have a crush on.

At all.

We reach the top floor, the honeymoon suite looming at the end of the hall. Facing the door, I take a deep breath, slot the key into the lock, and push it open.

Graeme and I stand frozen in the doorway, both trying very hard to look anywhere but at each other or the massive, heart-shaped bed dominating the room.

Enchanted rose petals drift from the ceiling, vanishing in puffs of glittering smoke when they touch the ground. A cheerful magical fire crackles in the totally unnecessary fireplace, castingthe room in a warm, intimate glow without adding any heat to the already-warm summer air.

A bottle of shimmering champagne chills itself in a bucket of never-melting ice, flanked by an ever-full box of rich chocolates.

Best of all, in the corner, a gigantic heart-shaped jacuzzi tub bubbles invitingly, tendrils of fragrant steam curling into the air.

It’s like a romance novel exploded in here. When Mariah and I would sneak in as teens, we thought it was the height of hilarity. Now, the over-the-top decor makes me want to melt into the plush carpet and disappear.

I steal a glance at Graeme from the corner of my eye. His jaw is clenched tight, his expression unreadable as always.

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