“Come sit,” he said, patting a moss-covered boulder.Then he reached behind the boulder and pulled out his satchel.
He uncorked a clay vessel and wet a linen rag with its pungent contents.Then he began dabbing the liquid carefully along the edge of her beard.The odor was sour, sharp, and strong, but the verjuice effectively dissolved the sticky pine pitch.
As he worked, leaning so close to her face, she couldn’t help but study him.
How no one could recognize him in his various disguises, she didn’t know.True, it could be said he had no particularly distinguishing features.His hair and eyes, like hers, were a neutral brown.Unremarkable.Nondescript.He wasn’t especially tall or short.Heavy or thin.Neither strong as an ox nor weak as a kitten.
She supposed he could be called ordinary.
But to her, he was singular.Exceptional.Unforgettable.
His skin was lightly tinted by the sun to a warm hue.His brows were refined and expressive.His thick lashes shadowed alert eyes that missed nothing.His nose was straight and noble.His jaw could be resolute or yielding.His mouth was generous and quick to smile.His lips were kind.And tender.And delicious.
He was gently tugging the mule hair free from beneath her nose when he lifted his gaze and caught her staring.He stopped his ministrations and gave her a knowing grin.
Unfortunately, the acrid odor of the verjuice-soaked linen tickled her nose at that moment.She squinched up her eyes.Gave a little gasp.And sneezed.
He recoiled with a laugh.
After that, she tried very hard not to meet his gaze.But it wasn’t easy.When she tired of staring through the pines over his shoulder, she tried closing her eyes.
That only heightened her other senses.She felt his light breath upon her face.The soft touch of his fingers.The heat emanating off of him as he crouched close.
She inhaled the scent of him.Worn leather.Clean sweat.And a faint, spicy incense that lingered in the fabric of his cassock.
“There,” he murmured as he loosened the last bit of beard from her chin.
She made the mistake of opening her eyes.
Then she made the mistake of gazing into his.
His fingers still rested lightly upon her jaw, and he lifted her chin slightly.
Her eyes lowered.One corner of his lip rose in a welcoming, bemused smile.
She couldn’t help herself.She wanted another kiss.This one without the beard.She leaned forward, pressing her thirsty lips against his in invitation.
At first, she simply enjoyed the pliant warmth of his flesh as she tasted his succulent mouth.Then her breath came in hungry gulps as she began to feast upon him, angling her head to consume more and more.
He responded with equal fervor, moving his hand to cradle her cheek.The other hand came round to press at the nape of her neck, drawing her closer.
The world spun around her as powerful sensations tumbled her thoughts and dazed her emotions.She let herself be tossed about like a feather on the wind, even as the currents increased in strength, threatening to take away all of her control.
A whirlwind swept through her.Filled her lungs with life.Flooded her veins with lust.She lifted her arms around his neck.
Then there was a loud rustle in the brush.
The noise startled them apart.
Panic scattered her senses.
What was that?
Whowas it?
Curse her inattention.How could she have left herself so vulnerable?
But he quickly chuckled, muttering, “Damned squirrel.”
