linen of the shirt. It would feel good against his skin. Or against a woman’s soft cheek, he mused.
Still naked, his sleek body glowing from his vigorous scrubbing, Zack strode to the shaving stand in the corner and took up his straight-edge razor. He held the instrument poised for several moments while he stared at the wild tangle of beard and hair in the oval mirror. It was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. Perhaps he should shave it all away. But he’d worn the beard too long. His cheeks would be as tender and vulnerable as a baby’s bottom if exposed. He decided merely to tame the thatch.
With careful strokes, he brought forth more face than he had seen in many months, leaving a mustache and full side whiskers for protection against the snow glare and winter wind. After more than an hour spent at the task, he nodded his approval to the image before him.
The next time he got Persia—or Europa—alone, there would be more of him to kiss. He grinned.
Persia waited in her room, watching out the window for any sign of Zack. Her sister’s most persistent suitor, Seton Holloway, had strolled up the front walk nearly half an hour before, looking his usual self—preoccupied, rumpled, and a bit too eager. Europa was no doubt furious that he had come so early. That meant she had to entertain him until their other guest arrived. Any other day, she might have accomplished this by playing the piano and singing. But, of course, singing was strictly out of the question on a Sunday. Persia almost felt sorry for Europa… but not quite.
She glanced out again and then looked toward the door. The wait would be much easier if she were downstairs with the others. But she dared not put in an appearance below before Zack arrived for fear she would be sent immediately back up to change. She cast an uncertain look at the mirror and watched as color flooded her cheeks. The change in her was shocking, she had to admit. Would Zack even recognize her? She hardly knew herself!
The gauzy silk grenadine of Europa’s cast-off gown fit Persia as if it had never known the curves of any other woman’s body. Narrow stripes of palest blue traversed the cream-yellow background in perfect vertical lines. The demure poufed sleeves only served to accentuate the daring dip of the bodice. Had it not been for the straw embroidery on the sleeves and tight-fitting top—featherlike in design—Persia was sure the darker flesh of her nipples would have peeked through the thin material. The same decorative pattern—made by splitting ordinary wheat and applying it with an embroidery stitch—was repeated at the hemline.
The long narrow skirt fell from just beneath Persia’s high, full breasts. When she “walked, the barest hint of the rest of her lovely figure—slim waist and rounded hips—was given away to the eye of the beholder by the soft contours of the material.
Persia had changed her hairstyle, too. Her long hair was swept up and fixed in place at the back of her head with ivory combs. Only a few flame-colored wisps trailed down in back, while a curl on either side framed her perfect oval face. A blue ribbon, pinned with her cameo, circled her slender neck—simple, but exquisite.
She paced the room, pretending that she was practicing walking in the narrow skirt and shaped-heel slippers. But eventually, her measured steps took her back to the window to search the distance for Zack. Still no sign of him. There was a man coming down Gay Street from the direction of Main, but she didn’t recognize him. He was certainly a fashion plate, though, in his gray beaver hat and caped scarlet greatcoat.
He turned in their walk, and her curiosity grew. Suddenly, he paused just below, glanced up at her window, and swept the hat from his golden-brown hair. He smiled up, then offered her a bow.
Persia’s heart seemed to stop for an instant before it raced to catch up with the blood coursing through her veins.
She gave a nervous
Still naked, his sleek body glowing from his vigorous scrubbing, Zack strode to the shaving stand in the corner and took up his straight-edge razor. He held the instrument poised for several moments while he stared at the wild tangle of beard and hair in the oval mirror. It was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began. Perhaps he should shave it all away. But he’d worn the beard too long. His cheeks would be as tender and vulnerable as a baby’s bottom if exposed. He decided merely to tame the thatch.
With careful strokes, he brought forth more face than he had seen in many months, leaving a mustache and full side whiskers for protection against the snow glare and winter wind. After more than an hour spent at the task, he nodded his approval to the image before him.
The next time he got Persia—or Europa—alone, there would be more of him to kiss. He grinned.
Persia waited in her room, watching out the window for any sign of Zack. Her sister’s most persistent suitor, Seton Holloway, had strolled up the front walk nearly half an hour before, looking his usual self—preoccupied, rumpled, and a bit too eager. Europa was no doubt furious that he had come so early. That meant she had to entertain him until their other guest arrived. Any other day, she might have accomplished this by playing the piano and singing. But, of course, singing was strictly out of the question on a Sunday. Persia almost felt sorry for Europa… but not quite.
She glanced out again and then looked toward the door. The wait would be much easier if she were downstairs with the others. But she dared not put in an appearance below before Zack arrived for fear she would be sent immediately back up to change. She cast an uncertain look at the mirror and watched as color flooded her cheeks. The change in her was shocking, she had to admit. Would Zack even recognize her? She hardly knew herself!
The gauzy silk grenadine of Europa’s cast-off gown fit Persia as if it had never known the curves of any other woman’s body. Narrow stripes of palest blue traversed the cream-yellow background in perfect vertical lines. The demure poufed sleeves only served to accentuate the daring dip of the bodice. Had it not been for the straw embroidery on the sleeves and tight-fitting top—featherlike in design—Persia was sure the darker flesh of her nipples would have peeked through the thin material. The same decorative pattern—made by splitting ordinary wheat and applying it with an embroidery stitch—was repeated at the hemline.
The long narrow skirt fell from just beneath Persia’s high, full breasts. When she “walked, the barest hint of the rest of her lovely figure—slim waist and rounded hips—was given away to the eye of the beholder by the soft contours of the material.
Persia had changed her hairstyle, too. Her long hair was swept up and fixed in place at the back of her head with ivory combs. Only a few flame-colored wisps trailed down in back, while a curl on either side framed her perfect oval face. A blue ribbon, pinned with her cameo, circled her slender neck—simple, but exquisite.
She paced the room, pretending that she was practicing walking in the narrow skirt and shaped-heel slippers. But eventually, her measured steps took her back to the window to search the distance for Zack. Still no sign of him. There was a man coming down Gay Street from the direction of Main, but she didn’t recognize him. He was certainly a fashion plate, though, in his gray beaver hat and caped scarlet greatcoat.
He turned in their walk, and her curiosity grew. Suddenly, he paused just below, glanced up at her window, and swept the hat from his golden-brown hair. He smiled up, then offered her a bow.
Persia’s heart seemed to stop for an instant before it raced to catch up with the blood coursing through her veins.
She gave a nervous
Similar Books
