Adrien tried not to look at Aoife, but his gaze was drawn to her like sparkle to a star. He lowered his eyes as though he was reading his book and hoped she wouldn’t notice him watching her through the shadow of his long, black lashes.
He drank
in the line of her jaw. His lips ached to kiss the point where it met the curve
of her neck. The simple gold chain she wore glinted in the afternoon light, beckoning.
Her crystal pendant hung just above the cleft of her breasts, barely visible
beneath her modest blouse.
Aoife
raised her slender hand to push a lock of hair from that had fallen on her
cheek and he was undone, again, by that graceful neck, no longer shrouded by
her tresses. Truly, he was stung by love, and a pleasant sting it was.
Adrien felt
the color rise to his cheeks as he thought of what it would be like to hold her
and murmur into that darling, delicate ear. Would she welcome his secrets, his
confessions?
Resolved,
he closed his book, stood, and walked to her.
*****
Aoife looked up as Adrien approached. Had he seen her
watching him? Did he know that she longed to rest her cheek against his
shoulder? That she yearned to feel the whisper of those long, black lashes as
he kissed the tender place where jaw met neck?
Her whole village knew of him, but only she understood him.
Of this she was certain, and she was unafraid.
She knew he was beautiful to behold. She knew that he was
strong and faster than thought. She knew he would be gentle. And she was not
surprised that he arrived without a sound. She was also not surprised that he
arrived without a shadow. After all, it was she who had stolen it when they
were small children, their families passing on a rutted road. This was what
bound them together. Did he remember?
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