and the blood rushing through his veins as if he'd run a half mile straight up the mountain.
It wasn't as if kissing Esme Crabb was an unthinkable idea. In fact, that very thought had already occurred to him on numerous occasions in the last week. He remembered all too clearly the sweet, clean smell of her hair as she sat so close. And the vivid memory of her shapely, stocking-covered calf held before him almost dared his inspection. If that wasn't disturbing enough, more than one night his sleep had been bedeviled by the hot remembrance of that one shocking moment when the crux of his body had fitted itself so intimately against hers.
Cleav finished feeding the brooders and catwalked between the male and female ponds to the larger, deeper pool on the far side. Here the year-old trout were being fattened. He didn't stop to feed these fish by hand but simply scattered the meat across the top of the water like a farmer sowing seed.
Glancing back, he saw that Esme was still following him like a shadow, and he gave a sigh of disgust.
He wanted her; there was no use in denying that. But a man couldn't always just take what he wanted.
As he watched her navigate the catwalk, the slight breeze pressed her skirt, unencumbered by the usual requisite of a half-dozen petticoats, closely against her long slim legs and thighs.
Momentarily a little devil on Cleav's shoulder whispered, "Why
not
have her?" Even the most civilized of gentlemen sowed a share of wild oats before settling down. She made no secret of wanting him, and he was bound by no vows or even promises. It could be mutually beneficial to both of them. A bit of illicit pleasure for him; she might even enjoy it herself, and maybe a small gift when they parted? Then his thoughts took off. Some cash money could sure come in handy for her. Maybe she could buy herself some new clothes or he could help her set herself up in a little business of some kind. He'd already seen she had a good head for it.
That bit of nonsensical thinking riled his conscience. What type of business could a ruined woman set up for herself in this town? he was forced to ask himself angrily. He swore at his own lack of scruples.
Esme Crabb was a decent woman. She had spent her whole life struggling to take care of her family. What she needed was a good, steady, hardworking husband to take care of her. And she would never find one by being the storekeeper's fancy piece.
And it was not as if such an arrangement could be kept secret. If he so much as pinched her fanny, every man, woman, and child in Vader would know it. The two of them were already the talk of the town when nothing had happened at all!
She came up behind him, and he turned to look at her. She wasn't a beauty like Sophrona, but she was pretty in her own way. Her face was suntanned and ordinary, but her features were agreeable. The curves of her bosom and hip were not stunning, but they were distinctly feminine. And her legs… a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. It was a good thing propriety said limbs should be covered, else Miss Esme's legs could cause a riot.
She smiled back at him, so naively, so foolishly full of ,hope.
Oh, how he wanted to feel those legs wrapped around his waist. Clinging, grasping, begging for pleasure from his body. A man would sacrifice a lot for that. But not everything. Cleav desired her. That was certain. He even liked her, or he would if she weren't always in his hair. But he didn't desire to marry her.
And a gentleman would protect a lady's virtue, even when the lady wasn't so keen on protecting it herself.
"You want to feed the fish?" he asked finally. His smile was the warmest and most welcoming Esme had seen from him in days. Her eyes widened with delight, and a blush reddened her cheeks. Clearly she recalled her last opportunity at the task with pleasure. "Yes, I'd like that very much." Her words were an uncharacteristically gentle whisper.
The sweet sincerity of her words nearly made
It wasn't as if kissing Esme Crabb was an unthinkable idea. In fact, that very thought had already occurred to him on numerous occasions in the last week. He remembered all too clearly the sweet, clean smell of her hair as she sat so close. And the vivid memory of her shapely, stocking-covered calf held before him almost dared his inspection. If that wasn't disturbing enough, more than one night his sleep had been bedeviled by the hot remembrance of that one shocking moment when the crux of his body had fitted itself so intimately against hers.
Cleav finished feeding the brooders and catwalked between the male and female ponds to the larger, deeper pool on the far side. Here the year-old trout were being fattened. He didn't stop to feed these fish by hand but simply scattered the meat across the top of the water like a farmer sowing seed.
Glancing back, he saw that Esme was still following him like a shadow, and he gave a sigh of disgust.
He wanted her; there was no use in denying that. But a man couldn't always just take what he wanted.
As he watched her navigate the catwalk, the slight breeze pressed her skirt, unencumbered by the usual requisite of a half-dozen petticoats, closely against her long slim legs and thighs.
Momentarily a little devil on Cleav's shoulder whispered, "Why
not
have her?" Even the most civilized of gentlemen sowed a share of wild oats before settling down. She made no secret of wanting him, and he was bound by no vows or even promises. It could be mutually beneficial to both of them. A bit of illicit pleasure for him; she might even enjoy it herself, and maybe a small gift when they parted? Then his thoughts took off. Some cash money could sure come in handy for her. Maybe she could buy herself some new clothes or he could help her set herself up in a little business of some kind. He'd already seen she had a good head for it.
That bit of nonsensical thinking riled his conscience. What type of business could a ruined woman set up for herself in this town? he was forced to ask himself angrily. He swore at his own lack of scruples.
Esme Crabb was a decent woman. She had spent her whole life struggling to take care of her family. What she needed was a good, steady, hardworking husband to take care of her. And she would never find one by being the storekeeper's fancy piece.
And it was not as if such an arrangement could be kept secret. If he so much as pinched her fanny, every man, woman, and child in Vader would know it. The two of them were already the talk of the town when nothing had happened at all!
She came up behind him, and he turned to look at her. She wasn't a beauty like Sophrona, but she was pretty in her own way. Her face was suntanned and ordinary, but her features were agreeable. The curves of her bosom and hip were not stunning, but they were distinctly feminine. And her legs… a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. It was a good thing propriety said limbs should be covered, else Miss Esme's legs could cause a riot.
She smiled back at him, so naively, so foolishly full of ,hope.
Oh, how he wanted to feel those legs wrapped around his waist. Clinging, grasping, begging for pleasure from his body. A man would sacrifice a lot for that. But not everything. Cleav desired her. That was certain. He even liked her, or he would if she weren't always in his hair. But he didn't desire to marry her.
And a gentleman would protect a lady's virtue, even when the lady wasn't so keen on protecting it herself.
"You want to feed the fish?" he asked finally. His smile was the warmest and most welcoming Esme had seen from him in days. Her eyes widened with delight, and a blush reddened her cheeks. Clearly she recalled her last opportunity at the task with pleasure. "Yes, I'd like that very much." Her words were an uncharacteristically gentle whisper.
The sweet sincerity of her words nearly made
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