“Let’s go back to your father,” she said quietly.
“This is an important part, little one,” he told her.
She ignored him and asked, “Were you close?”
He nodded.
“Very?” she enquired.
Callum continued to nod.
The wonder slid from her features as they grew soft with unconcealed compassion.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know how that feels.”
All right.
To pretty, fiery and spirited, he could add sweet.
Sonia Arlington could be incredibly sweet.
In order not to give into his sudden, forceful urge to take her to his bed and discover just how sweet she could be, he shifted some of her hair over her shoulder. He ran his fingers through it, never taking his eyes from hers while he said, “I know you do. Senator Arlington was a fine man and my father told me he loved you very much.”
Pain sliced through her eyes briefly and his arms gave her a squeeze.
She took in a soft breath and stated, “So you think I’m your bride.”
He grinned and replied, “You are my bride. The oracles foretold you.”
She nodded and went on, “And your people think I’m your queen.”
He felt his grin widen to a smile as he declared, “You are my queen.”
“And this is why I’m important to you.”
“Yes. The mate of any male of my people is important, important enough to lay down his life for her. But you’re queen. Any one of my people would lay down their life for you.”
She stared at him a moment, her eyes unreadable then she commented, “That’s an awesome responsibility.”
His hands moved under her arms to pull her up his chest so her face was closer to his and he teased, “And I know how that feels.” He watched one side of her lips quirk up before he went on, “It’s my duty to prepare you to take on that responsibility. Today has not been a good day, baby doll, but I promise you, from now on, I’ll be more patient.”
“This would be good,” she whispered.
He grinned at her, pleased with his endeavors and even more pleased with the results, all the while wondering if it would be a tactical error to kiss her.
Then he thought, f**k it.
His fingers sifted into her hair and brought her face closer to his but before his mouth could capture her own, she spoke.
“Do all your people’s eyes do that?”
“The gold?” he asked in return and she nodded. “In a way,” he answered. “The eyes of those of us with royal blood go gold. Others, yellow or brown.”
“So only your family has that pretty color?”
Yes, Sonia Arlington was definitely sweet.
He nodded as he pulled her face closer at the same time tilting his to hers. “Yes.”
Her head resisted and there was resistance in her tone when she whispered, “Callum –”
He ignored both and finally captured her lips.
She continued to resist, pushing her head against his hand and her hand against his chest.
He slanted his head, his mouth opened over hers and his tongue touched her lips.
They tasted sweet too.
He felt her mumbled, “Oh,” against his tongue but used that opportunity to slide it between her lips.
His tongue touched hers, her head stopped pushing as did her hand and she melted into him, tilting her head, her hand sliding up to curl around his neck.
The kiss was not fiery or spirited.
It was simply, brilliantly, unforgettably, sweet.
And it stirred Callum in a way he’d never felt before.
Therefore, before he truly made a tactical error by exploring that feeling and pushing her too far after f**king up so royally that day, he broke his mouth from hers and tucked her cheek against his chest.
He slid his fingers through her hair and he could hear her breath was accelerated but she didn’t pull away. She just lay in his arms, her cheek against his chest.
And he prayed his damage control worked.
She took in a satisfyingly fluttering breath before she asked, “Do you want your whisky?”
“Yes, little one.”
She leaned forward, nabbed his whisky and handed it to him. She leaned again and hooked her mug with her finger.
Then Sonia lay silently, cocooned by his body with her cheek against his chest, occasionally lifting her head to sip her tea while he sipped his whisky, the fire burned and the snow fell outside.
Yes, he thought with relief, it appeared his damage control worked.
And, Callum thought, living a life like this with Sonia didn’t yawn before him.
Instead, it might just be sweet.
Chapter Seven
Family
“Um…” Sonia muttered.
“Quiet,” Callum clipped.
Sonia tensed in Callum’s arms.
It appeared her attempted escape had not been such a good idea.
She remained still, cradled in his arms as he marched angrily, no, furiously through the snow heading back toward the cabin.
She had made good her escape plan (kind of, before it was thwarted).
After their first very bad day which ended in a not-so-bad late evening, she decided to spend some time lulling him into a false sense of security before she got the hell out of there. She’d pretended, through his gentle explanations that he was king of a secret sect of society, to understand and acquiesce to his lunacy. And she found pretending wasn’t hard to do because of said gentleness, his talk of her father (insane and maybe even mean, even though what he said about her Papa was nice) and his father (who he obviously missed, or convinced himself he did).
Although it wasn’t hard to pretend during their chat, it was hard when she found out he expected her to sleep with him in the big bed.
Yes.
Sleep.
With.
Him.
She demurred (as anyone would!).
He insisted (but gently).
She demurred again.
He insisted (a bit more firmly).
She gave in.
Fortunately, this was relatively easy considering he was busy with the fires. This tugged at her heartstrings as she remembered her father doing the same thing. He was always at the fires in order to keep his family warm when they were at the cabin. In the bathroom, she had changed into one of her lacy, sexy, silky nightgowns and slid into bed before he’d gotten a glimpse of her.
Unfortunately, after he changed in the bathroom and walked out wearing nothing but a pair of navy flannel pajama bottoms, she got a full on view of his chest. His massive, defined, muscular chest, complete with a furring of hair that was spread in a tempting array across his chest and down his belly. Chest hair that only the hand of God could have created after which, God could only remark, “My work here is done.” Callum’s chest hair was just… that… perfect.