Page 49 of The Miracle of Love
He had not thought of Genevieve in a long while and had no intention of reviving that connection.
His thoughts at present were on Grace alone.
Once this assignment was over, would he run from Grace?
Chapter Eight
Grace’s heart beatfaster as she watched a shirtless Deklan, his body sleek and perfect, draw aside the drapes and frown. “Blessed saints, of all the bad luck.”
She had just woken up from a delicious sleep, unable to believe she had spent the entire night cradled in his arms.
She tossed off the bedcovers and scrambled to his side. “Did they find us?”
“No, Grace. There isn’t a chance of that happening now. We are caught in a blizzard.” He drew her up so that her back leaned against his chest, and then closed his arms around her as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Look,” he said, continuing to hold her against the heat of his body while they peered out the window together.
The wind was stiff and whipping the snow into swirls.
She drew back when a particularly fierce gust struck the frosted window panes and rattled them with such force, she feared they might break.
Deklan laughed. “Don’t fret. The inn is as sturdy as a fortress.”
“It will need to be in this storm. The snow is blinding and piled so high, I cannot even make out the stable. It is completely buried. But I think this place will look beautiful once the snow stops and the air turns gentle.”
“Hmm,” he said and rested his chin atop her head with the comfortable familiarity of an old, married couple.
She turned ever so slightly to peek up at him before returning her gaze to the storm. “I’ve seen snowfalls at our country estate, heaps of snow piled high enough to block our doors. But afterward, the sun comes out and the sky turns the deepest blue. Icicles form on tree branches and everything is covered in a shimmering blanket of white. The deer and other wildlife start to come out, and you can see their colors so clearly against the white snow. I love the countryside in winter, it is a land of fairies.”
“And it is best viewed from inside with a warming fire blazing in the hearth,” he added with a rumble of laughter. “Well, we are in the middle of it now. I don’t think it will stop for hours yet, which means we are not going anywhere today.”
She glanced up once more, her heart racing as she stood beside this stunning man and tried to keep her mind from turning to pudding. “That will put us behind schedule and those men–”
“Will never find us here, Grace. If they are stupid enough to ride out today to search for us, they will likely die in this winter storm. Not even I would venture out in this weather and I am tough as nails.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“We are newlyweds,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice, “so I could make mad, passionate love to you for the next few hours. I know how insatiably you crave my body.”
She giggled.
“What? Not tempted by your manly stallion?”
“Oh, good heavens. Has anyone ever called you that?” A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “Wait, do not answer me. I really do not want to know.”
He chuckled. “All right. Let me suggest another plan. We can sit together and read.”
She inhaled lightly. “The Book of Love?”
He turned her to face him and cast her a boyishly appealing grin. “I must be losing my touch. It appears we are going to do nothing but read. So be it. I can see you are eager to lecture me about love.”
“I am no expert and do not claim to be. The closest I came to courtship was the Duke of Lockbridge and he did not like me very much after all.” She sighed in frustration. “And yet, I know I must hold out for love. You may be able to fall into bed with just anyone, but I cannot do this. There will only be one man for me and I will love him until the day I die.”
He glanced heavenward and groaned. “We have not even had our breakfast yet and you are already twisting me inside out.”
“Why? I am not suggesting you are my love. I hope you are not, because it would be awful if I did love you and you did not love me back.”
“There you go again.”
