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Grant tugged Maddy to her feet, sliding his arms around her waist. All eyes were fixed on them and, predictably, Maddy was blushing. “Well, honey, tell them. Are you really going to marry me?”
Her slow smile loosened the knot in his gut. She went up on tiptoe and kissed him. “Yes, Grant. I believe I am.”
* * *
By nine the kids were drooping and getting cranky, worn-out by a long day of Christmas excitement. Laura and her crew made their good-byes and headed home to their house, only a couple of miles away.
Grant cornered Beth. “Maddy and I are going to slip on over to a hotel.”
Beth wouldn’t have any of it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “The guestroom upstairs is all ready for you—you know . . . the one with the king size bed.” Her smirk was teasing but kind.
Her laughter followed them as they headed up to bed, but Grant noticed that Maddy didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed. Her head nestled trustingly on his shoulder, and her small hand was tucked in his.
The bedroom was fairly large and beautifully furnished. His sister had exquisite taste and the means to indulge it. Maddy sat on the end of the bed and ran a hand over the elegant cream damask bedspread. She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t have sex while we’re here. I’m afraid we might . . . stain something.”
The look on her face made him shout with laughter. He scooted her out of the way and removed the spread, folding it into a bundle and tucking it in the closet. “I don’t want to hear any more of that,” he said, pulling her close for a quick kiss. Her soft lips fired his imagination, among other things, and he backed her toward the crisp white sheets. “I’ll be careful,” he muttered, ready to promise her anything.
But she resisted, and he groaned. Surely she was kidding. He smiled tightly, his groin aching. “You can’t be serious.”
She looked puzzled, and then it was her turn to laugh. “I was teasing about not having sex, you big dope. . . But I want to give you your Christmas present. Go sit over there.”
“Sex in a chair—sounds good to me,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
She rolled her eyes. “Your present is not sex, at least not yet,” she amended, giving him hope for the immediate future. “Now, go sit.”
He obeyed reluctantly, sprawling in a big overstuffed armchair and kicking off his shoes. Maddy went to her purse and opened it, taking out something small enough to fit in her hand. Her hair glowed like a flame against the black of her dress. She’d left it down, confined only by two small, pearl-studded antique hairpins.
Looking at her made him ache.
He swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have sprung the marriage thing on you like that,” he said, suddenly remorseful.
Her gaze was unusually serious. “No, you shouldn’t have. What if I’d had to say no?”
He shifted restlessly. “I wasn’t going to entertain that option.”
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “You weren’t kidding about liking to win, were you?”
His face sobered. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” She came to sit at his feet. “I wrote something for you yesterday before we made love the first time. I don’t want you looking at me while I read it. You’ll make me nervous.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
She rested her back against the base of the chair, her head near his knees. He tangled his fingers in her soft, silky hair, sighing as he felt the warmth of her body. This was gift enough for any man.
She opened what appeared to be a scrap of paper and began to read, her voice soft and low.
In snow and ice and cold I came to you. You warmed me through . . .
By firelight.
We laughed and played, our burdens set aside. I loved your dog . . .
By firelight.
We chanced to share our hopes and dreams and fears. You were so kind . . .
By firelight.
