Kit Black by Monica Danetiu-Pana Page B

he cut pieces of the bright yellow pear and carried them to his mouth on the end of the knife. His nails were clean. Oh, and his mouth. Pink and smooth and bow shaped, the full lower lip glistening with the juice of ripe fruit. I felt a weird stabbing ping from my suddenly aching breasts all the way to my groin. Having lived my entire life in a brothel, the unruly sensation jolted me. I knew exactly what it was. Lust, something I’d believed myself immune to.
    He, like his friend, was dressed in the uniform of the French Navy. The white buckskin breeches fit his muscular thighs like a second skin, tucked into knee high boots with gold tassels. The blue jacket was fitted perfectly to his broad shoulders and trim waist. His tri-corn hat lay on the crate beside him, allowing me to see his hair. He didn’t powder his hair or wear a wig, but wore it swept back from his handsome face and tied with a narrow black ribbon. The chestnut brown, slightly curling locks picked up glints of the sun in red and gold. I had never seen a man so beautiful. His face was tanned, his eyes a light jade green with blue and gold flecks, his nose Roman, his jaw lean, and his chin cleft. He was perfection.
    Suddenly, I couldn’t remember what I needed to buy. Roger was off getting the rum kegs loaded onto the wagon, and I was going to catch hell when I didn’t show up with the goods. What was it? Molasses. Vinegar. Coffee. I’d think about it later. This was too important.
    So this man wanted an angel, did he? That’s all I could think about. He was an answer to my prayers. Maybe we could do each other a service. I needed the sword and the boots, and it really wouldn’t be the same as my mother did. If I only did it once, it would be fine.
    I could feel my knees knocking as I approached them.
    I kept my head down and my eyes on the ground. “Sir,” I said, keeping my voice deep. “Did I hear you mention that you might be interested in a night with a young woman?”
    The one called Damien laughed. “That’s what he said. You know of someone who fits that description?”
    â€œMy sister. She’d be willing.” I looked up at the handsome officer. “But just with him, and only for one night. For two pieces of gold.”
    â€œWhat?” the man called Damien cried. “That’s ridiculous. Get out of here before I kick your ass.”
    â€œI wasn’t talking to you, you bleeedin’ blowhard.”
    Armand placed his hand on my shoulder, his firm touch burning me like fire. Maybe this was not such a good idea.
    He lowered his head and stared at my face. Then he smiled. Such a smile…the sweetest I’d ever seen.
    â€œShe’s a virgin,” I stated with a gulp. “And she’d more than make it worth your while, sir.”
    â€œYeah, stab you through the heart in bed. Come on, Armand. We’re late,” Damien tugged at Armand’s sleeve.
    â€œPlease, sir. We need the money,” I tugged at his other sleeve. My fingers left a dirty smudge on the fine white linen at his wrist.
    â€œSo you’ve come out to procure for your sister. Does she know of this?” Armand asked looking at me strangely, as if he could see through my disguise.
    Maybe he was one of those perverts who liked boys. Oh, God, please don’t let that be so.
    â€œYou don’t like boys, do you?” I blurted.
    â€œNo!” he rasped. “And I’m not in the habit of sleeping with innocent young girls, either.”
    â€œShe’s not young, sir. She’ll be twenty next birthday, sir. She’s…uhm…been saving herself. So to speak.”
    â€œReally? She’s that aged.” He gave me that smile again, showing rows of perfect, white teeth.
    Was there nothing that wasn’t godlike about this male? I just swallowed hard and tried not to swoon. My chest bindings were feeling about to burst.
    â€œSo she’d been saving herself. Yet,