Bliss

The worst of it was that he was going to have to keep from trying to escape the assault of her breath. No more turning his head away. No more holding his breath. He was a man. A warrior. He could do it, he encouraged himself grimly

She enjoyed his ready wit and amusing company. His very presence sent little shocks of sensation through her. She felt electric when he was around. Felt energy zip through her like a small inner storm whenever he was near. He made her feel alive. Whether they were having a war of wills, a battle of wits, or making love, she felt unique around him. She felt competent, beautiful, special. He made her feel that. He looked on her with admiration and approval, and she felt herself bloom beneath his gaze like a flower under the sun.

She loved him.

He considered that briefly, then said, “But you only have two gowns.”

“Hmmm. That is a problem,” she agreed solemnly. “I suppose I shall just have to wear them as little as possible.” Meeting his gaze, she gave him a shy smile, then winked.

Hethe’s eyes widened incredulously. “Was that . . . Did you just—” He took in her blushing cheeks and paused.

He would insult her with compliments. Oh, this would be fun.

“No. Your hair is . . . yellow,” he began sweetly, his smile widening at her confused expression before he added, “Like those little plants my horse tramples in my meadow.”

She made a choking sound that might have been disbelief, but might just as easily have been amusement. She was definitely distracted. The suspicion was fading from her eyes. With this success, he decided to press his attack. “And your eyes are big . . . like a cow’s.