Eamon wasn’t here.
Thomas’s head lowered, as if he were the blushing maid, and not I. “Forgive my forwardness,” he said. “I meant to ask if you needed an escort. Someone to accompany you to... the baker’s, I warrant?” He gestured at the basket of dough.
I nodded. “Oh, but it’s only up the road a ways. I’ve no danger of being lost.”
Eamon’s stormy face came to mind, his cautionary words, his fear over my salvation.
But I had no salvation to lose. And the shepherd waited, brows lifted in expectation.
“Yes,” I finally said. “Your company would be welcome indeed.” And I rubbed the side of my throat.
Where my birthmark bloomed.
Suddenly I was shrinking, retreating even inside my Bess skin. I was mortal enough to be embarrassed, for I would swear no fair folk, ever, has felt shame.
Thomas frowned in puzzlement and moved closer. He raised his hand to where my neck met my shoulders, gently moving my fingers away. “It embarrasses you,” he observed.
No, I thought. And then,Yes. “You must think me awfully vain.” For Eamon lectured me when I fretted overlong over my appearance. My attention would be better spent fretting over the state of my soul.
“Not at all.” Thomas shoved his sleeve up to his elbow, revealing a thick white scar upon his arm.
I stared at it, compelled to brush my fingers across it, so lightly I gave the shepherd a start. I shrank back, alarmed as warmth thrilled beneath my skin.
Thomas pulled his sleeve down again. “There’s another where it is not meet to show you. My first attempt at milking did not go well.” He beamed brightly enough to shame the sun.
I could not join in his amusement.What am I doing? There’s errands to run. Eamon would say I played the huir.
Thomas placed his hand beneath my chin, and his grey eyes trapped me.
“No mortal man is perfect,” he said. “We leave that to the angels and to God.”
How close he stood to me. My pulse beat loudly and strong. The world might have paused around us, the stars ceased in their courses, for all had dwindled down to him and me.
Does he feel it, too?
His lids were lowered dreamily, and he spoke barely louder than a whisper. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. For lady, I would gladly pluck that rose.”
I imagined he did. That he leaned in towards me, and I smelled the human scent of him, mixed with green grass and old wool. That his rough whiskers brushed against my cheeks, and his lips delicately moved across the red rose at my throat.
Who needs the Devil when such temptation is offered by mortal men?
“I would,” he said, “if I thought myself welcome.”
He was welcome. I could hardly think of anyone who would be more welcome. I opened my mouth to tell him, but it had gone totally dry.
I had not noticed we had nearly reached the common oven, where the townsfolk clustered around.
Thomas stepped away from me. “I would not sully your reputation, lass. You do not want to spend time with a by-blow like me. Not where all can see.”
I wanted to argue. If I were in the faery realm I would. From the tales Morven told me, of love talkers and elfin knights, ribald couplings of mortal and fae under the light of the moon, there would be no limits to what we could do. No one would gainsay us if we laid ourselves down right now on the grass so green, and if I were to bear his child, it would be a source of joy for all the land.
But we were in the realm of man, in broad daylight and the middle of the road. I must push all thought of faery trysts from my mind. Reluctantly, I stepped away from Thomas, gulping hard.
Was it disappointment on his face? “That’s what I thought.” He dipped his head. “Forgive me. I have been far too forward with an unwed maid. I must bid ye farewell.”
I stood and watched as he left, wishing it could be otherwise.
“Ye’ve never been walking out with Thomas Shepherd, the baron’s bastard, have ye?” Glenna the Baker’s Daughter stared at me with wide brown eyes, her rosy lips round with surprise.
