“Careful, wee kitten,” he growled, knowing that his grip on his control was slipping.
Every time she chewed on her lip, every time she glared at him with defiance or grinned at him with savage victory—every time she did anything, really—his grip on his control loosened further.
He remembered her reaction when he’d lifted his nightshirt over his head, and thought that the warning would be enough to get her back into submission. But she must have been riding the high of beating him in their game because her grin only widened.
“I’m nae tired,” she purred. “So what other games do ye have in mind?”
Arthur bit back a groan. He wouldn’t give in to the temptation. Not yet.
The beast of desire willnae control me.
Pushing himself out of his chair, he walked to the chest that contained the few other games he kept in his rooms. Lookingdown at the meager offerings, he considered for a moment taking her down to the game room.
The selection there was much larger, and he knew they’d be able to occupy themselves until dawn if they wanted to. But if he was being honest, he didn’t want to.
Because going to the game room would break the little bubble of camaraderie they’d found themselves in. Opening the door to their bedchambers would shatter the illusion that they were alone, that no curious eyes were wondering what the Laird and his new bride-to-be were up to.
Arthur had a feeling that the moment that illusion was shattered, this carefree, almost impish Marissa, the one he’d caught glimpses of while they were still at Castle McEwan, would vanish. And that was something he was not willing to risk.
So, he bent down, plucking a deck of cards from the small chest and tossing it onto the table of the sitting room.
“Ever tried yer hand at Scots Whist?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Are ye lettin’ me win?”
Marissa glared at Arthur as she reached forward, snatching another winning set off the table as he glowered at her. His scowl deepened.
“I dinnae let anyone win,” he grumbled.
The absolute absurdity of it all forced Marissa to giggle.
“Ye’re pouty when ye lose,” she noted, moving her cards into a pile and placing them on the center of the table.
They’d played three rounds of Scots Whist, and she’d beaten him in all but one. A yawn bubbled up her throat, and she couldn’t push it back as it parted her lips.
Arthur cocked an eyebrow at her. “And ye’re finally tired.”
She nodded, feeling the truth of it settle over her. Her eyes felt like they had sand in them, and she rubbed the backs of her hands over them. Glancing around, she was once again reminded that there was no clock in their bedchambers. So, she had no way of knowing how long they had sat playing their little games.
What Marissa did know, however, was that in the hours that had passed, she’d become comfortable. More comfortable than she ever expected to feel when in the company of a man who wasn’t her family.
The only time she’d ever felt like this was when she’d been around Michael or Cody. They’d always had a way of making her feel at ease.
Another yawn wrenched itself out of her, and she stretched.
“Alright then,” Arthur quipped, quickly swiping the cards from the table and binding them with twine. “Let’s get ye to bed.”
She smiled sleepily at him, a lazy uptick of her lips, and nodded before standing up. She didn’t walk to their bedroom, though. Not as she watched Arthur turn away from her and place the chessboard, and the deck of cards inside a chest.
“Ye can stop starin’ at me any time ye like, wee kitten,” Arthur murmured, not turning to look at her before he closed the lid of the chest and turned toward the fireplace.
Still, Marissa did not take her eyes off him.
“I’m nae starin’,” she argued.
He bent, grabbing a couple of logs from the basket by the hearth and tossing them onto the waning fire. His large hand wrapped around the iron fire poker, and a popping noise filled the room as he began prodding.
