Page 59 of Fey Divinity

“Yes, happy. That’s rather the point, isn’t it?”

He’s looking at me like I’ve just performed some sort of miracle. Like I’ve offered him the moon and stars instead of just suggesting we get better catering arrangements. The wonder in his expression, the quiet amazement, makes something warm and protective unfurl in my chest.

I like him looking at me like that. Like I’m something special, something worth marvelling at.

I like it a lot.

“You continue to surprise me, Jack Caxton,” he says softly.

“In a good way, I hope.”

“In the best possible way.”

And then he smiles at me, really smiles. Not one of his careful diplomatic expressions but something genuine and warm and just for me, and I think I could happily spend the rest of my life trying to put that look on his face.

Even if it means negotiating with the Fey Court for singing cheese.

Chapter twenty

Dyfri

Iwalk into the bedroom after bathing, and find Jack sitting in bed reading. The only light is the soft yellow glow from the lamp on the bedside table. It’s making his reading glasses look even more adorable than usual.

First, he saves me from his agents, then he takes me shopping and cooks for me, and now he is posing and looking all sweet.

My eyes narrow. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who entered this marriage with a seduce-and-make-fall-in-love plan.

He looks up and gives me a warm, extremely genuine-looking smile. One that I find myself believing. Jack isn’t duplicitous. Jack is just… Jack.

“More reports?” I say, tilting my head towards his reading material.

A faint blush races along his cheeks. “Ah, sadly not. I’m indulging in a little reading that is purely for pleasure. Something I haven’t had time for in ages.”

A dark emotion tightens around my chest. I take up a lot of his time. He didn’t choose to be married to me. He didn’t choose to be thrust into plotting and planning.He simply wanted to play rugby and, apparently, read for pleasure.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

What kind of stories does Jack enjoy? What fires his imagination and speaks to his soul? It is suddenly extremely important for me to know these things.

He smiles again, this time a little ruefully. “The Odyssey.”

I stare blankly at him.

“It’s a classic,” he explains. “An ancient Greek epic poem about a man fighting monsters and gods so he can get home.”

“Fighting monsters?” I raise an eyebrow. “How fitting.”

Jack chuckles warmly. “I suppose it is.”

He carefully closes his book and places it on the bedside table. He removes his glasses, and it is on the tip of my tongue to tell him to keep them on. Instead, I move to my side of the bed and slip under the covers. I turn my back to Jack, and he turns the lamp off.

“Goodnight, Dyfri,” he says softly.

“Goodnight.”

Goddess, Jack is sothere.Exuding body heat and kindness and sheer presence. I can smell his enticing scent. I can hear his breathing. My mind is picturing all his exquisite muscles hidden only by a thin layer of cloth. It would be so very easy to bare them to my eyes and feast on the sight.

Oh sweet darkness! My cock is hard! That makes no sense at all. Jack stroked me to release this morning. I should not be needing anything just yet. In the morning perhaps, but not now.