She decided she liked Griffin’s face better.
For his part, Griffin had been distracted, but he was still attentive to her. He held her hand when they walked about. When they stood around waiting, he’d pull her in and kiss her hair, or murmur naughty things in her ears that made her blush. He’d even done so in front of Jonathan, which had made the other man raise a curious eyebrow.
Griffin had missed his friend’s expression entirely, but Maylee hadn’t. It made her wonder if Griffin often brought women with him on his precious dig sites, and it made her feel a bit warmer to be sharing this moment with him.
They’d had to eventually leave the site when the sun went down, and they reluctantly headed to the airport to fly back to Bellissime. Still, Griffin was more content than he had been all week, and had a packet of new reports that Jonathan had given him to peruse. Maylee had put zinc on her now-sunburned nose and napped against Griffin for hours while they flew back. Even now, she could barely keep awake as they rode to the hotel, so when he’d encouraged her to put her head down in his lap, she hadn’t needed much persuading. And as she relaxed and snuggled against his strong thighs, he’d absently played with her curls.
And she’d been so utterly content.
This was the Griffin she was coming to adore. This man was not the snarling, arrogant aristocrat, but a scholar filled with enthusiasm for his work. Who didn’t mind if she didn’t hover next to him . . . but still wanted her close by so he could hold her hand or press kisses to her skin in idle moments. Who smiled at her like she’d lit the sun that day.
She could fall in love with a guy like that.
When they got back to the hotel room, he insisted on dragging her into his room. Not for sex, he told her, but just so they could sleep together. She’d half-fallen asleep before she’d even taken her pants off, and had drowsily flicked in and out of consciousness as Griffin removed her sneakers and jeans, and then crawled into bed next to her.
She could have sworn he’d said, “You are an exceedingly wonderful woman, Maylee,” just as she’d drifted off to sleep, but it might have been her imagination.
***
The next morning was a flurry of activity. They’d woken up earlier than usual, as Griffin had to be at the palace early for a wedding breakfast. Then, he’d have to change into his full regalia, attend the ceremony at the tiny church in the heart of Bellissime, and then endure hours of photographs before he could finally escape. There was a wedding reception that evening because Luke’s family was American and insisted on it, but Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise had been appalled at the thought of spending more time in the company of Americans, so she would not be attending. Neither would the queen, who was ancient and had an early bedtime.#p#分页标题#e#
Griffin figured that since they would not be attending, it would be safe for him to skip out on things. He’d buy his cousin Alex a nice wedding present to make up for it, maybe a chateau in the Noire Valley. He knew she rather liked the place.
But first, he had to get through the day, and it was going to be long and tedious, and he told Maylee so repeatedly while she tried to fix his tie.
She slapped him lightly on the chest. “Hold still, Your Royal Fussiness.”
“Actually, my correct title would be Viscount Fussiness, or Lord Fussiness,” he corrected, and couldn’t resist running the backs of his fingers over the curve of her breast as she leaned over him. “I’m not a royal highness in title any longer.”
Maylee wiggled away and gave his tie one last pat. “You’re all fancy now, Lord Fussiness,” she told him, but there was a smile in her voice. “And it could be worse. You could have to wear one of these ridiculous little hats.” She pointed at the powder blue feathered-and-netted confection in her pale curls.
“It’s called a fascinator,” he told her. “Everyone will be wearing one. It’s polite.”
“It looks like a quail got netted and slapped on a plate,” she grumbled. “And then smacked onto my head.”
He chuckled, because it did look a bit like that. “If I have to wear ridiculous clothes for this wedding, you do, too.”
“Yes, but I’m not in the wedding,” she teased, adjusting the tiny decorative net on her fascinator. “I’m merely a lowly servant who has no duties except to wait on you hand and foot.”
“A delectable, enchanting servant,” he corrected, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her neck. “With a rather lovely pair of breasts that I can’t seem to stop touching.” He reached into her modest neckline and placed a hand over her breast, delighted that her nipple hardened at his touch.