Page 144 of Swordheart
To think that the first time she’d seen him without gauntlets, she’d thought his hands looked hard and unkind. He’d touched her in ways she’d heard about, but certainly never experienced. For someone who was constantly complaining about the decadent south, it was pretty clear that the north had its own share of decadence.
Unless men and women have been doing this sort of thing around here for years and no one bothered to tell me. Which I suppose is also possible. Even likely.
Gods knew her late husband wouldn’t have taught her that sort of thing. Poor man. He’d almost certainly have considered that an unpleasantness to be avoided. “He put his mouth where?”
She blushed even remembering. It had definitely been… err… indecent. Yes. That was the correct word. Most of what Sarkis had done had probably qualified as indecent.
Certainly her response had been nothing close to respectable. Respectable women did not claw at the sheets and make noises like that.
Sarkis himself was undoubtedly not a decent or respectable person.
But quite splendid nonetheless.
“Good morning,” he said against her hair.
She jumped and squeaked.
“I have been wanting to do this since… mmm. The second day I knew you, I think,” he said, caressing her breast.
“You hid it well.”
“You were a respectable widow. And trusting and very kind. Throwing you down and ravishing you on the spot did not seem courteous.”
She rolled over on her back, pulling the sheets up to her chin. Sarkis’s hands were still touching her under the sheet, but she felt less exposed.
“I thought you wanted to strangle me.”
“Well, there was some of that, too. So many questions! How big is a dragon? Could I fight my way past a half dozen old women armed with embroidery hooks?”
“It was mutual!”
“What, the embroidery hooks?”
“The desire to strangle you!”
He chuckled. His chest was against her arm and she felt the vibration all the way through her bones. “I’m sure it was.”
“The way you were always manhandling me into ditches…”
“I fear I manhandled you worse last night,” he murmured, kissing the point of her shoulder.
Halla opened her mouth to say something and blushed again.
Oh, this is ridiculous. I’ve been wed, bedded, and widowed for the past decade gone. Why am I blushingnow?
Sarkis stroked a fingertip over her cheek. “It’s all right,” he said. “There’s no shame.”
“I’m not ashamed,” she said, even as her blush deepened. “I’m—I’m embarrassed.”
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, either.”
“And now I’m embarrassed that I’m embarrassed. You’re being kind.”
“We could go back to arguing if you’d feel better.”
“I might!” she snapped.
He grinned. “Well, to be honest, I’m impressed I managed to make love to you at all without you stopping me to demand to know if I’d done it before, if I knew what I was doing, and how exactly it worked.”
