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“Nope, I can’t feel my fingers or toes any longer, but you can carry me back to the house,” she said with a wicked grin.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he chuckled.
Marcus helped her to her feet, then effortlessly picked her up and trudged through the snow back to the estate’s lights.
“You do this amazing well, Mr. Stirling,” she whispered, holding her frozen cheek against his while he walked.
“I did a tour during the winter season in Afghanistan. This snow is baby-level powder, nothing like those rugged mountains with multiple layers of ice underneath five feet of snow to trip a guy up. I had to carry about a hundred pounds of gear and weapons, soyoufeel as light as a feather.”
“That’s very romantic,” she quipped. “But hopefully, I’m a little lighter than gear and guns.”
“Absolutely, Caitey girl,” he said with a chuckle.
It was fun to make him laugh, and moments later, they entered the house through the back doors leading to the kitchen. The clock on the wall read just before midnight.
The place was empty, quiet, and clean. Not a speck of after-dinner dishes or pots and pans. Gus wasthorough and spotless.
Nobody was in sight, even as Caitey held on to the back of Marcus’s coat while he peeked into the dark dining room and then the dusky drawing room. The wedding flowers still scented the air, but they were the only people still up at this hour.
Only a few dim night lights remained burning in the foyer, which would help them find their way to the staircase when they finally turned in for the night.
Back in the kitchen, Caitey found mugs and spoons. Chocolate chunks to crush while she filled a copper kettle with milk and lit the stove.
While waiting for the milk to boil, she raided the pantry for marshmallows and checked the fridge for cream.
“Aha!” she crowed softly. “Whipped cream in a bowl. I think Gus had a hunch. He told me that he keeps the pantry stocked with great hot cocoa fixings.”
When she laid everything on the table, she caught Marcus gazing at her, arms folded onto the table while his eyes followed her around the room.
“You’re making me nervous!” she accused as she held a hot pad over the kettle’s lid to keep it from spilling while pouring the heated milk into their mugs. Almost instantly, the chocolate chunks melted into the hot milk. “Stir,” she commanded.
Sinking into her seat next to him, they stared at each other while mixing the milk and dark chocolate.
“Now the marshmallows,” Caity said, dropping a mix of miniature and large fluffy white pieces onto the hot creamymilk. “And last but not least, the whipped cream!” she said dramatically, picking up a spoon to take a big scoop from the bowl and drop it on top of the steaming cocoa.
Immediately, the extra ingredients began to overflow.
“That’s our cue todrink fast!” she said, slurping at the edge of the mug and proceeding to burn the top of her lip. “Oh—ouch!” Hurriedly, she set down her mug while Marcus silently laughed at her antics.
“Let me blow on yours to cool it. I think my whipped cream already cooled mine,” he told her.
Caitey gazed into his face while he cooled her drink—careful not to cause any whipped cream to go flying—then took a simultaneous sip while gazing at one another.
They set down the super-sized mugs without speaking and leaned in for a kiss.
The chocolate taste on Marcus’s lips, combined with sweet cream, was sexy and intoxicating.
“Right now, I think I have everything I’ve always wanted,” Marcus said in a deep voice. He placed his hand against the back of Caitey’s head and tugged her closer while she slowly slid out of her seat to cuddle in his lap.
“I’m living inside a dream,” she murmured against his mouth. “This is so unreal and yet so magical. I never want to go back to real life.”
“The truth about magic is creating it one step at a time.”
“So, which step are we in?”
“Hmm,” he mused, giving her a sly smile. “Was it the first moment we saw each other, or was it thefantastic kisses in the snow, or is it drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream mustaches?”
“Are you saying I have a mustache?!” Caitey blurted out with a little cry of horror.
