If anything, she was lighter, brighter. Her eyes sparkled even in the lilac gloaming, her smiles wide and her voice cheerful.
He didn’t think that night was a dream. Would she be linking arms with him if it was? Not likely. Did she not wish to discuss it? She didn’t seem embarrassed or regretful.
No, if anything, she seemed to be…flirting with him?
Surely not.
His denial was immediate and vehement.
Except, when they reached the Brádaigh property, her touch lingered on his arm. When she looked up at him, her gaze had gone almost sultry, lids low as she smiled sweetly at him. Her gentle fingers petted his forearm, and those sparkling eyes kept him riveted.
Did she want something from him? Should he lean down and…kissher?
He could almost hear himself swallowing in trepidation.
Ibás, he didn’t know how to kiss. There wasn’t time to ask Balar.
Her smiling lips curled, as though she were pleased or even smug about what she saw. To his astonishment, she pressed on his forearm, using it to push herself to her tiptoes and pull him down to meet her.
“Goodnight then, Mister Soren,” she whispered to him before kissing his cheek again. Except, this kiss was so near his mouth, she caught just the corner.
And on her way back down to her heels, she stopped to kiss the underside of his chin, and the center of his chest, too, right where his fur disappeared under the collar of his shirt. When she did lean back, it was with a lingering sigh.
“Goodnight, Miss Maeve,” he managed to croak.
Another soft smile that wiped away all thought and reason, and then she stepped back, the velvet darkness of dusk welcoming her.
But she stopped before becoming totally obscured. Turning, she waved at him, the amber glow of her lantern catching on her smile.
Enket at inan,he was doomed.
15
Maeve twirled for herself in the mirror, pleased with what she saw. With the growing sunshine and heat of spring, it was time for shorter sleeves and hems; she particularly adored her spring clothes, full of flower-embroidered bright kirtles, lighter stays tied with pink or lilac silk ribbons, and her breathable pink silk stockings.
All the walking and exercise she was getting from her position had certainly slimmed down her figure, although she was more than a little satisfied that the added curvature of her bosom had remained so far.
Is Mister Soren an admirer of a pretty pair of breasts?she wondered. He likely wouldn’t even know what to do with them, but somehow, the thought only titillated her more.
Ever since the night she’d taken him in hand, Maeve had practically floated through her days. Fates, she’d forgotten howfunthis could be. Some might think her flirting was wasted on poor Mister Soren, especially as he either didn’t realize she was doing it or got so flustered by it he nearly came to a standstill,but that only made it more fun for Maeve.
She could just imagine his furious blush beneath his precious tufted cheeks. She wanted to pet those cheeks whenever he looked at her with that wide-eyed expression of his, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said or that she’d said it to him.
It, of course, improved her mood greatly—her pride was practically swollen, and she was more than a little smug knowing how well she’d…handled him. He wanted to say something, of course. Tongue tied on their evening walks, she almost wished to put him out of his misery—but then, this was all just too delicious.
Maeve loved flirting. The coax and chase, the innuendo, the surprise kisses and touches. She looked forward to the next even before she’d executed her last campaign.
It was a fine line to toe, she knew. She didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable or as though she was laughing at him. Never that. But his sincere, guileless responses were addicting, as was the way his eyes always seemed to be on her.
To have such a big, strong man teetering on the tip of her finger…yes, she could see why Sorcha and the other women who’d taken up with otherly men had been tempted. It was a heady feeling, knowing such power rested in the palm of her hand.
This at least—her not-courtship with her manticore not-mate—felt within her control and understanding again. She didn’t want to think about what it all meant or could mean in the future—for now, it was enough to feel good.
And even more, she wanted Soren to feel good. That genuine, shy,goodman deserved a bit of fun. Perhaps there really was something to the sayingspring is in the air, for something about the heavy buzz of bees and sweetness of the air, as flowers burst in riotous blankets across the rolling hills and meadows, had Maeve nearly squirming with excitement.There’s so much wecan do together.
Who was she to deny herself the chance to feel good, especially if doing so could make someone else feel good, too? It didn’t need a condition or classification right now—why should everything be tampered by possible consequences that may or may not come to pass?
It was all right to live in the moment. Maeve hadn’t been for a long time, and it felt good to do so again, like stretching out a tight muscle or laying in the sun. A simple pleasure.
