Grayson's Vow

My disjointed thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on my door. I stood up quickly and called, "Who's there?"

"It's me." Grayson. I wasn't ready to face him.

"I'm busy," I called. "Go away."

"Kira." His voice held the vague hint of annoyance. "This cottage doesn't have a lock. I'll come in whether you grant me permission or not. I'd rather have permission."

I fisted my hands. Arrogant dragon! "Fine, come in," I gritted out.

I stood still as I listened to him enter and make his way through the front room. And then he was standing in the doorway to my room. I looked away because I didn't want to think about how handsome he was and how good his soft, full lips had felt on mine when he actually put some effort into it. And how I could still taste him on my tongue.

"We should talk about what happened just now," he said in a hushed voice.

"What?" I asked flippantly, turning my body toward the window.

"You don't remember?" he asked, and I heard the note of humor in his tone. "If my kiss was that forgettable, maybe I should try again, and do it better this time. I thought I'd improved my efforts compared to the first time, but maybe we need even more practice."

"No," I said, whirling back toward him. I took a breath. "No, that won't be necessary. We were both . . . heated. That sort of thing happens sometimes. It's no big deal." I waved my hand around. "You can rest assured I won't get any ideas from it. No fanciful notions."

He gave me a boyish half smile filled with the irresistible charm I was sure resulted in women throwing themselves at him every hour on the hour. Women like Jade. The woman he'd slept with on our wedding night. Not that I was thinking about that again because I wasn't. He moved a step closer. "Maybe I'm the one who's getting a few fanciful notions."

"Oh," I whispered. My breath had suddenly grown as thin as bridal lace. I took in a lungful of air. "Well, that's not a good idea either. It would only complicate things. Plus, I'm not your type, remember?"

"I think I might have been wrong on that score, Kira." He moved even closer.

"You wanted to kill me," I reminded him.

"Yes, well, you do need to curb your antics. Climbing trees and dancing on tractors . . . I can't have you getting hurt. Also, you taunted me in front of my men and then whipped me."

Well, when he put it that way . . .

"By accident," I defended, regarding the whipping part. My eyes moved to the small cut on his jaw, and I couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt.

He took a strand of my hair and my eyes watched his fingers at the side of my face as he tucked it behind my ear. His closeness was making me feel all jumbled and confused, his blatant male sexuality turning my limbs to jelly. I could feel the heat of his body against my own, picture the taut muscles beneath his clothes. My eyes moved to his beautifully carved mouth, and I remembered the feel of it on mine. The memory jolted me back to reality.

"I know," he said, looking thoughtful. My mind scrambled to remember what we'd been talking about. "For some reason, with you I'm especially . . ." He paused, seeming to be searching for the right word.

"Reptilian?" I offered, standing up straight and trying to shake off his effect on me.

"Temperamental," he corrected, giving me a boyishly lopsided grin meant to disarm me, I was sure. It didn't work. Mostly.

His eyes moved over my face for a few moments. "You probably need something to do. You mentioned some accounting experience—"

"Yes, I worked at my father's office. Secretarial work, accounting . . ."

"Good. The office up at the house is yours now. I'm sorry to say I haven't had much time to organize anything recently. You'll have your work cut out for you."

I nodded. "I'm not afraid of hard work."

His face became pensive as he regarded me—his eyes dark and fathomless, hooded by those impossibly long lashes. He looked around at the room we were standing in, his eyes landing on the vases of flowers I'd put out that morning and then roaming to the open doorway of the tiny bathroom. "I can see that."

Whispers of pride filled my chest. I'd had precious few compliments about my character or work ethic from men in my lifetime. I was almost embarrassed by how much those four words meant to me. I wanted to turn them over in my head and savor them for a few minutes, but Grayson spoke again. "It occurs to me that perhaps we were rash in defining our relationship. We're married, Kira. There's obviously an attraction between us. Is there any reason we shouldn't . . . explore that?"

My breath caught in my throat. He was attracted to me? He . . . wanted me? Why? Because he was horny and I was convenient? Butterflies took flight in my ribcage as I pictured the first time I'd been with a man. I stepped back and looked down, unable to hold eye contact with those dark eyes—eyes I now saw from up close were the rich color of coffee beans. Not black at all, but the deepest, darkest brown.

"Why do you need me? You have Jade." Not bitter—not at all.

"I didn't sleep with Jade, Kira. You were right. It wouldn't have been discreet. But more than that, it wouldn't have been right."

I scoffed, but relief was secretly flowing through my body; not only hadn’t he slept with Jade but he'd realized his actions could have caused our relationship to look far less than legitimate. "I'm glad you realized you weren't acting discreetly, but I hardly care what you did with Jade for any reason other than that," I insisted, lifting my chin.