Page 48 of The Miracle of Love
“You are hot all over. Does the cold not affect you?”
“No, I do not mind the cold.”
“Does nothing affect you?”
“Some things do.”
Her touch.
Her scent.
The womanly curves of her body.
If he were any hotter, he’d be a walking torch and burn down the inn. “Go to sleep, Grace. I’d like to get an early start in the morning.”
She snuggled against him. “Good night, Deklan.”
“Sweet dreams, love.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“What? Love? It is a harmless endearment. Would you rather I didn’t?”
“No, it is nice. I don’t mind it at all.”
She fell asleep in less than a minute.
He stayed awake and listened to the wind whistle and howl outside their window. The logs he had earlier tossed on the hearth now sparked and crackled as they burned. Their sheets had a light, lavender scent to them.
Grace was peacefully curled against him.
He breathed in her strawberry scent, knowing it would linger on the sheets and on his skin.
Heaven would be like this, he decided.
It had to be.
Sleep eluded him for a while longer.
Grace was the reason.
He had come close to marrying several years ago, atonbeauty by the name of Lady Genevieve de Clare. She was a few years older than Grace and some men would consider her more beautiful, but he did not.
Perhaps because Genevieve did not have Grace’s endearing warmth.
It was ironic that he, a man who was the definition of cool reserve, should be so attracted to someone as earnest and compassionate as Grace.
As for Genevieve, she was considered a diamond of the first water, for her features were classical perfection. A fine, straight nose. Lovely blue eyes. Pale blonde hair. She was tall and slender, and knew how to move with elegance.
She was also witty and sophisticated.
And yet, he had run from her.
Perhaps the reason was nothing more than a question of poor timing.
How would he respond if they met now? Would he still be averse to marrying her?
He dismissed the idle musings.
