Duke Charming | Craig

Eighteen

It was past midnight when we arrived back at the castle after spending another hour or two dancing at the festival. And to be honest, we wouldn't have left if Craig didn't remember his driver was waiting on the bus, probably dozing off as we speak.

Poor thing.

The drive back nearly lulled me to sleep myself as I cuddled up to Craig, wrapped in blankets and gazing at the stars above. It was truly a perfect day, the best one of my life so far.

"Thanks, Harry," Craig said to his driver when he dropped us off at the castle. He handed him a brown envelope before bidding him a good night, "And 'ere is somethin' extra for your help today. A wee bit o' advice, spend it on yer wife."

They shared a good laugh before Harry drove off with the bus, no doubt straight off to bed.

My stomach fluttered when Craig snaked his hand around my waist and walked me through the doors. However, I worried that the night would end there. I was far from being tired, and to be honest, I didn't want this to end – ever.

Little did I expect Craig to turn left towards the kitchen instead of right towards the east wing where the guest bedrooms were located.

"Don't know 'bout you, but I'm starvin'," he said cheerfully, minding his tone as the entire castle was sleeping by now.

That right, we forgot to finish our chips back at Culross. I blamed Karen and her nosiness.

"Well, it's a good thing you're dating a caterer," I joked lightly as we reached the kitchen. "Who coincidentally knows a quick and easy stove top pizza recipe that's perfect for a midnight snack."

"And 'ere I was hopin' you'd forget 'bout our deal." Craig snorted.

"Then you clearly don't know me well enough, Sir Duke." I felt him tense when I whispered close to his ear, especially at the little 'Sir Duke' touch I added at the end.

Leaving him at one of the worktops to fetch the ingredients from the pantry, I reveled in knowing he was probably flustered and speechless again. At this point, I didn't know what impressed me more; me preventing myself from jumping his bones at every chance I get, or his gentlemanly politeness and consideration of my womanly innocence.

I returned a minute later with all the ingredients in my arms, lining them up on the worktop.

My senses came alive when I sensed Craig peering over my shoulder, eager to get involved. "You seem t'know what yer doin'. Is there anything I can help with?"

"You can make the dough, there's no tricks to it." Grabbing a measuring cup, I scooped two cups of flour into a bowl and added half a cup of water and a pinch of salt to it. "First, you're going to mix that with a fork until it gets solid and sticky, and then you knead it with your hands until it becomes dense and doughy."

"Doesn't seem too difficult," he muttered, memorizing my instructions in his head. "Right, let's do this."

Whether he was nervous about the task or if he didn't have a clue how to knead dough, he hid it exceptionally well. Craig started mixing the wet and dry ingredients with a fork as I instructed while I busied myself with cutting up some pepperoni slices, and grating the cheese that came on top. It was going to be a simple, straightforward pizza. No razzle dazzle this time.

Halfway through grating the cheese, however, I heard him speak. "Uh, lass? I don't think the dough and I are gettin' along." I turned around to see what he meant and was graced with the sight of him with his hands midair, strings of gooey dough clinging to his fingers. "It's bein' stubborn."

"Here, let me help." Slipping between him and the worktop, I lowered his hands to the bowl, caging myself between him and the counter in the process. "It just needs more flour." Scooping some onto his hands, I rubbed the sticky dough off his fingers until his hands were relatively clean one more. "And now, you do this."