"Where are you, little witch?" he asked, much closer now. But it didn't sound as if there was question in his voice. Yes, he knew exactly where I was. My heart rate increased.
He turned the corner at the far end of where I sat, and my breath stuttered in my throat. In the glow of the starlight, I could see his gaze was trained on me. I stood slowly and as he started to walk toward me, I held up my hand, motioning for him to stop so I could come to him. Because I suddenly understood that sometimes it's right to meet in the middle, but sometimes, the simplest act of grace is to meet the other person where they are. That, that is love. He watched as I approached, his eyes dark and fathomless.
As I drew nearer to him, it came to me that watching Grayson in front of the bank that day, I had fallen in love, but only in some romantic, girlish way. I had fallen in love with the idea of him. But here, in the deep, dark of the maze—where he had once been lost and frightened and alone—I reached out my hand, and I fell in love with the man. I fell in love with my husband.
His hand in mine was solid and warm and real. And he grasped me back.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Grayson
The party was winding down as I made the rounds as fast as possible, stopping to chat quickly or saying goodnight to those leaving. When I spotted Charlotte chatting animatedly with José's family, I smiled and nodded at them, then asked if I could borrow Charlotte for a moment. When she stepped aside, I said, "Sorry, Charlotte, I'm retiring for the night. Will you encourage the guests to stay and enjoy the music and the food? If they ask, make Kira's and my excuses?" My wife is waiting upstairs in our bedroom.
"Excuses? Are you sure? There's still—"
"Yes, Charlotte, very sure." I winked at her and strode away before she could say anything else. I made it past a few guests who were deeply engaged in conversation and turned the corner to the stairs. I took them two at a time. It might have even been three.
When I opened the door to my bedroom, Kira was sitting at the small writing desk brushing her hair, a towel tucked around her. At the sound of the door locking, she turned and smiled softly at me. The makeup she'd worn earlier had been washed from her face, her hair hung soft and long down her back. She looked beautifully innocent and just a tad shy. She stood and stepped around the chair she'd been sitting on, facing me as I approached her.
"Hi, little witch," I murmured, stepping right up to her.
"Hi, dragon," she breathed, reaching up to undo the bow tie knotted at my neck. Though she seemed anxious to undress me, I noticed the shaking in her hands, and when I reached up to help her, she laughed self-consciously. "I feel like a new bride." She delivered the words with a hint of humor, but her eyes were wide and vulnerable.
"You are. That's what you are." My bride. Suddenly I felt on strange ground, too. The air in the room seemed to close around us, so only she and I existed within it.
My hands dropped to my sides, and I let her finish with my bow tie, finally tossing it aside, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of my shirt. She leaned in and kissed the bare skin of my throat and my breath hitched at the feel of her soft, warm lips. Her tongue darted out to taste me and then she kissed the spot again, leaning back to undo the rest of my buttons. I watched her, her eyes on what she was doing with her hands. This woman is mine. No one else will ever have her, I thought, my gaze drinking in the dark shadow her lashes made on her cheeks, the way her lips were slightly parted, the bottom one fuller than the top, the very tiny beauty mark to the side of her right eyebrow, and the exact spot on her cheek where I knew her dimple would appear if she smiled.
"You are so beautiful," I said reverently.