hopped off yonder into
the woods. He looked back at Dileah in time to see her long flowing
hair slip to one side, revealing the sensuous curve of her
neck.
His breathing grew rapid at the sight and
his throat became dry. He wanted to touch her neck, taste her skin,
feel her frantic pulse beating under his lips. But he'd wait to
make his move; watch her until he was sure she wanted to take a
lover.
Rumors of the fair maiden who picked wild
flowers and drank from the bubbling brook had circulated through
his hunting lodge. Only a few chosen ones had been lucky enough to
experience her seduction. He had to see her for himself, taking the
chance that he might become one of her chosen.
Everything he'd heard about her, so far, was
true.
She lived and breathed. Were the rest of the
rumors true?
Her chest heaved as she inhaled the scent of
a flower. Ample bosom threatened to spill over the top of her
bodice, leaving his mind to roam the numerous possibilities. Were
her nipples pale-pink against her dark skin or rosy-red in the
center of white globes the sun had never kissed? Were they small
pebbles or large buds? His blood warmed and traveled south, but
still he waited for her to drink of the brook.
Yards and yards of blue cotton fabric
composed her skirt, flowed down to the ground around her feet. Tiny
toes poked out from under the veil of clothing and tested the
water.
Not wanting to miss her sign, he inched to
another tree limb to be closer and see better, yet staying hidden
from her view.
Her delicate hand cupped and dipped into the
brook. Pouting her lips, she sipped the fresh spring water. Sweat
trickled down his temple as her succulent tongue licked drops of
moisture from her sensuous lips. The sign had been given, the
maiden lover desired to mate.
Slowly, he descended from his refuge so not
to startle her. He clambered down, limb by limb, until his boots
hit the ground, never taking his eyes off her. The air assaulted
his senses with the smell of fresh perfume from the flowers mixed
with the ripening grain.
His heart pounded at the base of his throat
with each step towards her. The water rushed over pebbles and birds
chirped out a soft melody. Above it all, his heartbeat roared in
his ears. She slipped both hands in the spring then stood, ran them
down her neck, over her bosom. Raised droplets of water on her skin
made his mouth dry from his desire to lick them off.
Gathering her skirts once more, she giggled
and twirled in circles. The innocent act of a child, but he knew
her to be five years his senior and more experienced in the ways of
love. Her high girlish voice sent shivers to his heart and desire
arrowing to his cock.
He stood a mere five feet away, almost close
enough to reach out and touch her, but he stopped. He knew the
rules, had been told about them for years, ever since he'd been old
enough to join the lodge at the tender age of eighteen. Now, seven
years later, he waited. Dileah had to welcome him, invite him into
her world, and accept him as a lover.
Her gaze traveled over his body from the top
of his velveteen flat cap to the soles of his knee high suede boots
and back again. Even fully clad in the layers of clothing; tunic,
breeches, jerkin, and stockings, he felt naked under her scrutiny.
The beat of his heart pounded in his ears as he awaited her
approval.
With a slight tip of her narrow face and the
curve of her lips, she turned her back to him and slowly walked
away. Her hips swayed in a way only a woman could master. His
breath caught in his throat, refused to expel the poison from his
body until he knew her answer.
She stopped.
Good
sign .
Gazed over her shoulder.
Better sign.
Eyelashes fluttered.
Lord have mercy.
Raised her arm.
Oh God, here it comes.
Crooked her finger and motioned for him to
follow.
Dutifully falling under her wicked spell, he
swallowed hard and followed her behind a grove of oak trees. A
woolen blanket lay spread over the ground, beneath a canopy
the woods. He looked back at Dileah in time to see her long flowing
hair slip to one side, revealing the sensuous curve of her
neck.
His breathing grew rapid at the sight and
his throat became dry. He wanted to touch her neck, taste her skin,
feel her frantic pulse beating under his lips. But he'd wait to
make his move; watch her until he was sure she wanted to take a
lover.
Rumors of the fair maiden who picked wild
flowers and drank from the bubbling brook had circulated through
his hunting lodge. Only a few chosen ones had been lucky enough to
experience her seduction. He had to see her for himself, taking the
chance that he might become one of her chosen.
Everything he'd heard about her, so far, was
true.
She lived and breathed. Were the rest of the
rumors true?
Her chest heaved as she inhaled the scent of
a flower. Ample bosom threatened to spill over the top of her
bodice, leaving his mind to roam the numerous possibilities. Were
her nipples pale-pink against her dark skin or rosy-red in the
center of white globes the sun had never kissed? Were they small
pebbles or large buds? His blood warmed and traveled south, but
still he waited for her to drink of the brook.
Yards and yards of blue cotton fabric
composed her skirt, flowed down to the ground around her feet. Tiny
toes poked out from under the veil of clothing and tested the
water.
Not wanting to miss her sign, he inched to
another tree limb to be closer and see better, yet staying hidden
from her view.
Her delicate hand cupped and dipped into the
brook. Pouting her lips, she sipped the fresh spring water. Sweat
trickled down his temple as her succulent tongue licked drops of
moisture from her sensuous lips. The sign had been given, the
maiden lover desired to mate.
Slowly, he descended from his refuge so not
to startle her. He clambered down, limb by limb, until his boots
hit the ground, never taking his eyes off her. The air assaulted
his senses with the smell of fresh perfume from the flowers mixed
with the ripening grain.
His heart pounded at the base of his throat
with each step towards her. The water rushed over pebbles and birds
chirped out a soft melody. Above it all, his heartbeat roared in
his ears. She slipped both hands in the spring then stood, ran them
down her neck, over her bosom. Raised droplets of water on her skin
made his mouth dry from his desire to lick them off.
Gathering her skirts once more, she giggled
and twirled in circles. The innocent act of a child, but he knew
her to be five years his senior and more experienced in the ways of
love. Her high girlish voice sent shivers to his heart and desire
arrowing to his cock.
He stood a mere five feet away, almost close
enough to reach out and touch her, but he stopped. He knew the
rules, had been told about them for years, ever since he'd been old
enough to join the lodge at the tender age of eighteen. Now, seven
years later, he waited. Dileah had to welcome him, invite him into
her world, and accept him as a lover.
Her gaze traveled over his body from the top
of his velveteen flat cap to the soles of his knee high suede boots
and back again. Even fully clad in the layers of clothing; tunic,
breeches, jerkin, and stockings, he felt naked under her scrutiny.
The beat of his heart pounded in his ears as he awaited her
approval.
With a slight tip of her narrow face and the
curve of her lips, she turned her back to him and slowly walked
away. Her hips swayed in a way only a woman could master. His
breath caught in his throat, refused to expel the poison from his
body until he knew her answer.
She stopped.
Good
sign .
Gazed over her shoulder.
Better sign.
Eyelashes fluttered.
Lord have mercy.
Raised her arm.
Oh God, here it comes.
Crooked her finger and motioned for him to
follow.
Dutifully falling under her wicked spell, he
swallowed hard and followed her behind a grove of oak trees. A
woolen blanket lay spread over the ground, beneath a canopy
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