“Fine—I’lltake it off.”Idoffed the hat and veil and left them carelessly on the kitchen counter.ThenIran my hands through my long black hair, trying to be sure it wasn’t crazy-looking after removing the hat.
Through it all,Korwatched me with half-lidded eyes.Itmade me feel a little nervous, but there was no censure in his gaze—only a lazy kind of interest that made me feel special somehow.Itook my time and ran my hands through my hair several more times than were necessary as he watched.FinallyIsaid,
“There—IthinkI’mdecent now.”
“You’re more than decent—you’re gorgeous,”Kormurmured.
I felt myself blushing again, but with pleasure.Imade a little shooing gesture at him.
“Kor, you don’t have to say things like that.”
“I’m only telling the truth,Vivienne,” he murmured.Thenhe stood up and shifted a little from foot to foot in that way men do sometimes when they’re adjusting their equipment.Icouldn’t help noticing that there was a definite bulge in the crotch of his trousers.
I felt my eyes widen asIlooked quickly away.Goodness, hadIdone that to him?Itwas shocking and shameful…butIfoundIkind of liked the idea thatKorfound me beautiful and his body reacted to me like that.
However,Ipushed the thought quickly away.Ofcourse he wasn’t reacting to me—he was young and strong, he probably just had spontaneous erections sometimes.Whatwas going on in his pants had nothing to do with me,Itold myself sternly.Whichwas as it should be.
“Come on,”Isaid.“Let’sgo to town.”AndItossed him the car keys.
He caught them in one hand and grinned at me.
“Let’s go.”
THIRTEEN
KOR
The ride to town was surprisingly enjoyable.Iturned on the radio to an oldies rock station—the kind of music my dad had loved—andVivienneapparently loved too.Wesang along to a couple ofEagles’ tunes, andIcouldn’t help noticing what a beautiful voice she had.
Goddess of theMoon—was there anythingIdidn’t find attractive about this woman?
I had to stop it,Itold myself.Icouldn’t be attracted to aMoonWidow.ButIkept catching myself looking at her from the corner of my eye.Shewas so pretty when she smiled…and when she didn’t smile…and all the time, really.Iliterally couldn’t take my eyes off her, thoughIswearItried.
At last we came off the twisty backwoods roads and got into the town limits.Blackridgewas a tiny hamlet of only two thousand people, if the city limits sign was to be believed, andIbelieved it, especially whenIsaw the town.
It was small and picturesque—the kind of spot you’d stop on your honeymoon to get memorable pictures.Andbeing surrounded by theAppalachianMountainsmeant it was full of natural beauty.
Yet, the peopleIsaw on the street asIdrove theRollsRoyceSilverGhostslowly through the common area didn’t look happy.Theyshot me mistrustful glances and several of them pointed and whispered when they looked atVivienne.
She kept her head held high andInoticed that a rigid expression had taken over her previously animated features.Shelooked calm and serene on the outside, butIthoughtIsaw a trapped expression, hiding far back in her gold-ringed eyes.
I found a place to park in a small lot between the grocery store—Bowman’sGrocery—and the post office.Viviennehad told me she needed to pick up a package she’d ordered and a few things for dinner.
I hurried around the front of the car to open her door and watched with admiration as she emerged, looking like a queen.Therewas an innate elegance in her—a grace you don’t often see in people these days.
“MyLady,”Isaid, only half joking and offered her my arm.
After a moment of hesitation—she took it and gave me that shy smileIwas beginning to love.Theone that said she wasn’t quite sure if she ought to be smiling at all, but she wanted to anyway.
We walked through the lot andViviennesaid she wanted to visit the post office first.
“As myLadywishes,”Isaid gravely, still continuing my display of chivalry and she giggled and put a hand over her mouth.
I escorted her into thePostOffice—a tiny building with a wall ofPOboxes on one side—and we stood in line behind an old man mailing a package to his grandson inPeru.
This was a lengthy transaction, andIhad time to notice that the people at the counter were looking at us—well, mostly looking atVivienne.Itwas two women, one with gray hair in curls and the other with her blonde hair in a businesslike ponytail.
The two of them were staring atViviennein a very unfriendly way.Itmade me wonder if she had offended them somehow.Theykept looking at her and then whispering to each other while the single male employee kept helping the old man figure out the correct postage forPeru.
