His hand in her hair was distracting her, as were his words. She trembled. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I love your frizzy hair. I love your slow, drawling voice and how you want to go do your faith healing on everyone you meet. I love that you listen to me ramble about my digs and never tell me that I'm boring you. I love that you never ask me about my money, or if you can spend time with the royal family, and I know that it's because those things don't matter to you nearly as much as I do. That I'm a person to you, not just a title or a wallet. And that's something that I've never been to anyone in Bellissime." Behind his glasses, Griffin's eyes were serious. "And that's why I'm falling in love with you."
And he extended his hand back out to her. This hand is the property of Maylee.
She stared at it, thinking. Then she looked up at him.
Griffin stood in front of her, utterly stiff. His collar was askew from tugging on it, and he looked incredibly uncomfortable.
She didn't take his hand. She didn't know if she was ready for that.
He seemed to realize this, too. Slowly, it curled up and he dropped it to his side. "It's funny," he said in a soft voice. "When you're a member of the royal family, you don't expect to have to work for anyone's affection. It's a given that it will automatically be granted. I've never had to work at convincing anyone to like me before. I . . . I'm not very good at it." He sounded disgusted with himself. "And I wish I knew the right thing to say-or do-to convince you of my sincerity."
For some reason, that rueful confession convinced her more than his declaration of love. Maylee looked up at him and gave him a faint smile. "Would you kiss the dog?"
"I beg your pardon?" He tilted his head, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.
"My hound, Bubba. Would you kiss him to prove to me that you love me?"
He inclined his head at her, oh so gracefully. "If I must."
She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. "Bubba!"
The dog galloped out of the trailer and toward her, all flying ears, cheeks, and ropes of slobber. He stopped in front of her and she knelt to rub him with affection. "Hello, Bubba," she cooed. "This man is going to give you a nice kiss, okay, boy?"
"He's quite a . . . leaky fellow."
She giggled at that. "He's a hound. They tend to drool."
"So I see."
And to her surprise, he bent down and kissed the top of the dog's head. Then, he straightened with a grimace. "I'd rather be kissing you."
"I see that." Lordamercy, she should be given a medal for managing to contain her laughter.
"Am I forgiven?"
"I haven't decided. I might need you to kiss a chicken next."
He looked resigned. "How does one even kiss a chicken?"
"Very carefully," she said, and got to her feet, dusting her hands off on her jeans. "You'd do that for me?"
"If that's what it takes to convince you of my earnestness, I shall kiss every bit of fowl you place in front of me." His tone was so austere and sincere.
Her giggles escaped. "Why can't I stay mad at you?"
"Because a man who kisses a slobbery dog simply to make his woman smile is a pathetic figure indeed?" He attempted to put a smile in his voice, but his face remained somber. "Maylee, I'm so sorry I hurt your feelings. I truly am awful at showing affection properly, especially when I'm at home and everyone expects me to act like one of the royal family, even though I'm no longer in line for the throne. It's like I'm brainwashed into seeing nothing but how the royal family thinks things should be. But Alex broke the mold, and I can, too." He reached out and touched her hand. "I can assure you that I never, ever encouraged Saxe-Gallia or anyone else. That was simply tabloids making up rubbish to sell papers."
Griffin's words were so fervent that she knew they were the truth. No matter her wounded feelings, she had to stop and think rationally. The man had grown up with a cold mother and father. How could she expect him to be wildly affectionate in a family who didn't seem to know the meaning? Even Alex was reserved around Luke, and he was her fiancé.
Actually, she supposed that Luke and Alex were married now. Poor Luke-he'd married into a family of stiff-necked royals. Maylee smiled at that.
At her smile, Griffin seemed to relax a little. His eyes brightened. "Please tell me you don't hate me anymore."
"I don't hate you anymore," she agreed, and took his hand in hers and gave it a little squeeze.
Griffin looked a little disgruntled at that. "I rather hoped I'd be showered with kisses upon my declaration of love."
She laughed at his disgusted tone. "I thought you royals didn't like shows of affection?"