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“I’m a carpenter,” he explained. “Well, and a sculptor in a way. I make decorative furniture. And I have one order to finish before the Yule so… Better get going. Will you find your way to the kitchen?”
He still didn’t look at me, and I bit the inside of my cheek, a prickle of annoyance coursing under my skin.Wife-phobicreplayed in my mind in a singsong voice. Well, I could live with it. As long as he fucked me tonight and sealed the deal.
“I’ll be fine,” I said slowly, watching him with narrowed eyes. “And you better not leave me alone on our first night together, or I’ll tell your mother the word you called me today.”
It was a gamble, but Jack’s reaction let me know it was the right choice.
He finally looked at my face, orange eyes widening in shock. “I wouldn’t dream of… I don’t… Oh, reindeer’s ass. That was an honest slip of the tongue! And you don’t have to coerce me! Please, believe when I say I wouldn’t miss our wedding night for the world.Especiallywhen you glare at me like that. I’ll be done with work before dinner. I promise.”
“Fine,” I said, tapping my foot. “I’ll be waiting. You may go.”
He gave me a spooked look, shook his head, and left, closing the door. I did my best putting my hair in order in the bathroom by his room and set out to brave Jack’s mother. I wondered if I would be able to call her ma without bursting into tears.
Probably not.
Chapter 9
Jack
While carving an intricate design on the elements of a wooden doorframe, I wondered whether Scarlett possessed supernatural abilities. Because how else would she know I considered skipping our wedding night?
It had been just a thought knocking at the back of my mind. Not even a real plan. And she still sniffed it out.
If I consummated the marriage, my fate would be sealed. Until that happened, though, there was still a way out. If I didn’t sleep with her, I could ship her back to the temple, and our marriage would be null and void. I’d be a free man.
And somehow, Scarlett’s piercing blue eyes saw right through those cowardly thoughts. Obviously, I wasn’t actually going to do that and leave her all alone in the world but… The temptation was strong. For a moment, it was even stronger than the allure of Scarlett’s delicious scent and her angry huffs.
But then she glared at me, a threat sliding off her tongue like the sweetest promise, and I was done. No more thoughts of bailing on her. Icy gales, if she glared at me so angrily while lying beneath me on the bed, her hair spread in its golden glory on my pillow, not even a horde of mountain trolls would drag me from between her legs.
So… I really would be a married man. And she would be mywife.
I groaned when my grip on the chisel slipped, driving it into my thumb. Sucking it into my mouth, I sent a small burst of healing magic into the sore spot, deciding to purge the cursed word from my personal dictionary.
There. Done. Now, there was nothing between wiener and wig, and I didn’t even know what word had bothered me so much.
Ha. As if.
I got up, stretching my back, and tidied up the wood shavings before putting my tools away. Now, all I could think about was Scarlett, naked and pink, that one touch of her bare thigh burned into my tail so much, it tingled.
Groaning when my cock tried to slide outyet again, I went outside and let the icy air cool me down under the dark, starry sky. It stopped snowing some time ago, and the evening was clear and crispy, perfect for a little walk up the mountain.
Which would not be happening. I recognized the urge to take a walk was just a way of putting off seeing Scarlett, and now that I’d had some time to process, I knew it would be shitty of me. Yes, we were strangers. She had practically bullied me into marrying her. But in the end, the decision had been mine, and I said the words of my vow willingly.
Also… I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow thinking about the way she grew up, all alone, with her folks sounding really unpleasant. I didn’t want her to ever feel this lonely when she was here. And I knew my mother would make Scarlett feel welcome and loved, because that was what she did, but that wouldn’t be enough. As a husband, I was responsible for my… my little snowdrop.
There. A thousand times better than hussy. And a million times better thanwife.
So I heaved a sigh, plucking up my determination, and walked back to the house. The sight I found in the kitchen after clearing my feet made this difficult choice completely worth it, so I entered the hot room with a lighter heart.
Because what I found was my mother sitting in her reading armchair, her feet resting on a footstool, a mug of mulled wine in her hands. She wore a blissful expression, watching Scarlett as she busied herself with dinner preparations, tasting, stirring, and putting side dishes into small, decorative bowls.
She seemed to feel right at home in my mother’s kitchen, and that made my chest squeeze with affection.
“The broth is excellent, ma’am,” she said as I entered, her voice animated and happy. “It’s so flavorful! How did you do that?”
“Ma’am is not quite ma, dear child,” Mother said, shaking her finger playfully. “And the secret is in the cooking time. I put my broth on the stove right after I get up. Mister Frost still snores in our bed while the broth already bubbles away. And it can’t overboil. It has to be just so—making those little, lazy bubbles. Now, be a dear and pour some mulled wine for Jack.”
Scarlett turned around, the light in her eyes dimming when she saw me, though she still gave me a smile. A moment later, I nursed a clay mug of hot, spicy wine while Scarlett was back to her post by the stove, seeming like she was completely in her element.
