Maea
The worst of all blessings
For a breathless moment their eyes locked, and the warm comfort of being wrapped into his arms turned electric. Her breath caught as she noticed how his attention strayed to her lips, his eyes betraying a desire she shared. Pulse racing she grew very still, anticipating –
But with that final squeeze Liam let go, and left her standing breathless, quietly reeling, to pick up the scattered remnants of whatever thought she'd held a moment earlier. The warmth of his hand lingered on the back of her head... thrumming faintly like some part of his spirit still held on. "Uh, I'll eat 'em all the ways," she replied, somewhat on autopilot, "but favorite... Fried on both sides, with the yolk gummy but not runny?"
Collecting her thoughts from whatever gutter they'd been trying to slide into, the kettle was collected and placed on the fire to warm. Collecting tea and honey from the cupboard, she began setting the table for breakfast. Passing by Liam without reaching for him was a challenge. His presence acted on her like a magnet, relentlessly pulling her in. In a weirdly inverse way, their promises seemed to only heighten her awareness of him in every way, making her take notice of things she'd intentionally distanced herself from before. His scent, his stance, the easy strength of sun-tanned hands that moved a skillet she struggled to lift like it weighed nothing. A damp curl of hair fell just so along the side of his neck and called her to twine it around her finger, and as he looked up a ray of sunlight fell into the iris, turning hazel into a kaleidoscope of green and brown as deep and enchanting as this forest. Had part of it moved in beneath his skin over the years, turning him into a part of it? Doubtlessly the soldier belonged in this land, this village, this kitchen, and picturing him anywhere else came only with difficulty. Perhaps because her own heart rejected the notion.
Ah, it was hopeless. Even without vows and promises of forever, there was no way she'd be able to resist him. What fortune that he was a knight and a gentleman, because if he wanted to Liam could ruin her completely.
But with that final squeeze Liam let go, and left her standing breathless, quietly reeling, to pick up the scattered remnants of whatever thought she'd held a moment earlier. The warmth of his hand lingered on the back of her head... thrumming faintly like some part of his spirit still held on. "Uh, I'll eat 'em all the ways," she replied, somewhat on autopilot, "but favorite... Fried on both sides, with the yolk gummy but not runny?"
Collecting her thoughts from whatever gutter they'd been trying to slide into, the kettle was collected and placed on the fire to warm. Collecting tea and honey from the cupboard, she began setting the table for breakfast. Passing by Liam without reaching for him was a challenge. His presence acted on her like a magnet, relentlessly pulling her in. In a weirdly inverse way, their promises seemed to only heighten her awareness of him in every way, making her take notice of things she'd intentionally distanced herself from before. His scent, his stance, the easy strength of sun-tanned hands that moved a skillet she struggled to lift like it weighed nothing. A damp curl of hair fell just so along the side of his neck and called her to twine it around her finger, and as he looked up a ray of sunlight fell into the iris, turning hazel into a kaleidoscope of green and brown as deep and enchanting as this forest. Had part of it moved in beneath his skin over the years, turning him into a part of it? Doubtlessly the soldier belonged in this land, this village, this kitchen, and picturing him anywhere else came only with difficulty. Perhaps because her own heart rejected the notion.
Ah, it was hopeless. Even without vows and promises of forever, there was no way she'd be able to resist him. What fortune that he was a knight and a gentleman, because if he wanted to Liam could ruin her completely.
The most beautiful of curses
Base by Skylark
