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And afterward she’d fallen asleep in his arms, the steady heartbeat under her palm acting as her lullaby.

But this morning…

He was still caressing her and she arched instinctively. “Demon, I—‘tis early, and…”

“Hmm. And ye dinnae want to live up to yer end of the bargain?”

Her eyes flew back open. Bargain? He was speaking of the contract she’d signed?

As if he could read her thoughts, his hand rose in front of her face and Demon very deliberately snapped.

He wanted her now? In such a crude way?

She gasped and tried to roll over, but got caught in the blankets. What resulted was an undignified flopping about which made her more irritated. Finally, legs tangled in the sheets, she huffed her hair out of her face and frowned at him.

“I just meant that first thing in the morning, a woman has certain needs, and my breath likely smells horrible!”

He was…smiling? “Like a bucket of chum left out in the sun,” he agreed. “Mine too, surely.”

She gasped again, this time in outrage, but then quickly slammed her lips shut in case he hadn’t been exaggerating.

He moved suddenly, too fast for her to process. One moment he was lying there, head propped up on his elbow, looking not at all like the scowly grump she was used to…and the next, she was flat on her back, the blankets most certainly untangled from her legs, the lord of the manor looming above her.

Her full bladder suddenly became the least of her concerns. “Demon?”

“Aye, lass. Ye see, morning hygiene aside, yer master has needs.” The teasing way he growled those words sent a shiver through her.

Breathless now, Georgia slid her hands up his arms and across his chest, marveling at the texture of his scars beneath her palms. “Needs?” she repeated.

“I’ve become used to draining my ballocks each morning, ye ken.” God, she loved it when he was so crude. “But there’s nae need to visit yer chamber when ye’re right here. So convenient…”

With a little whimper she arched her hips against him, spreading her thighs, welcoming him. She was already slick with need…

“Then by all means, my lord, let us see to your ballocks.”

He was chuckling when he lowered his lips to her nipples.

And now it was hours later.

Georgia was sitting in the library once more, this time with Sophia and the twins. They were all crafting; she was working on Demon’s present, although the design was difficult to see this far from the light source, and Sophia was helping the children make decorations for the tree.

Bull was stretched out on the sofa, a pillow stacked behind his head as his knitting needles clacked in his lithe hands—hands that always seemed to be moving. Demon was sitting in his usual chair, ignoring them all as he read.

Every once in a while, he glanced up and caught her eye. When he winked—a subtle gesture which likely looked like an eye-twitch to anyone besides her—she felt her insides heat at the reminder of what they’d shared that morning.

Georgia was certain her blush was obvious to her new friend, but Sophia didn’t comment.

“You know what I think this needs? Chocolate.” Hunter was chewing thoughtfully as he looked up at the ceiling. “And honey.”

His aunt hummed as she helped Gabrielle thread her needle. “Yes, I suppose the cranberries could always have a little extra topping, but—”

“You’re not supposed to eat the cranberries!” the lass interrupted. “Get your fingers out of my bowl! I’m trying to string that for the tree!”

“Your bowl?” Her brother stuck his tongue out at her. Which, considering it was covered in half-chewed cranberries, made Sophia sigh in frustration.

“Hunter, please at least pretend to be a gentleman. We’d like to encourage Uncle Demon to invite us back, you know.”

From his chair, Uncle Demon muttered something involving weasel orifices.