will than Rica did.
His gaze washed over her, lighting upon her shoulders and waist. The heavy curtain of her wet hair hid her breasts, but Rica felt them grow weighty with a sudden, restless ache.
She stared back at him, seeing a silver rivulet of water trail over the smooth flesh of his neck and through the curls of hair upon his chest.
He stepped toward her and Rica could see he was as moved as she. His chest moved with quick, shallow breaths. “It seems,” he said in a low voice, “we share a favor for this part of the river.”
Rica swallowed. “So it would seem,” she whispered.
He stopped bare inches away from her. “I have cursed you,” he said in a husky tone. He glanced away, then back again to her, and shook his head. His breath soughed over her face, smelling of mint. “You haunt my dreams.”
He touched her cheek and Rica nearly swooned. She closed her eyes and caught his hand, pressing it between her cheek and her palm. It was hot and strong. “I will never be able to confess this,” she whispered almost desperately.
“Tis madness,” he agreed, his voice a low rasp.
The sudden, fierce barking of the dog shattered the moment. Solomon snatched his hand from her as if he were burned. “Dear God,” he muttered, and stared at her as if she were a witch.
A sound of hooves in the forest reached them, and Solomon bent to retrieve Rica’s clothes and basket. He hastily shoved them at her as she whistled for Leo, who bounded toward her, shaking water from his fur forcefully.
Terrified, Rica glanced at Solomon. He didn’t hesitate, but dragged her, clutching her clothes, into a thicket of bushes. Leo struggled in behind them, and though he whined almost inaudibly, he shushed even that small noise at Rica’s touch.
They were crowded hard in the small space, but neither moved. The hoofbeats came nearer, thudding in some hurry, then passed no more than a few feet away. Rica smothered a gasp as she spied the white boots of Rudolf’s stallion. He had come after her.
As the sound faded into the distance, Rica became aware of Solomon once more. His knee was pressed against her thigh and a loop of her hair rested on his arm, soaking his sleeve. His side was pressed into hers and his body seemed extraordinarily warm. She stared at his hands with their scrubbed knuckles and clean nails, at the long gentle fingers and the hot strong palm that had lain against her cheek.
Abruptly, Solomon pulled away. “He is gone.”
She followed him from the thicket of bushes into the lowering sunlight of the grove. Suddenly aware of her near-nudity in the thin wet shift, she donned her tunic. Nervously, she steepled her fingers and listened for the sound of hooves in the forest. “It was a vassal of my father’s on that horse.”
Solomon’s face was grim. He pointed to a bluff. “He watched you—there. When I saw your dog, I thought it might be you he watched.”
Rica lifted her chin. “Were you coming for a look yourself?”
His nostrils flared. “Perhaps you should not bathe in the forest again, lady.”
“It has always been deserted here,” she protested. Then, remembering the pagan thoughts of him that had filled her mind at the caress of the water, she bowed her head. “Perhaps I should not,” she said softly.
With a low, growling sound, Solomon moved close. He stood before her and tipped up her chin. “Have no shame, Rica, for you are as God created you.” A blazing light glimmered in his eyes. “I would give many years to be able to lie with you honestly.”
She swallowed, pricked at his admission. “Men will often give much to have knowledge of a woman that makes their cock rise,” she said, and turned her head from the grip of his fingers. “It was for the lust of men that so many laws were given women.”
Shifting her skirts away from his feet, she bent to pick up her basket.
His hand curled around her arm. “Lust?” he said softly. “Is it lust that sends me dreams of you? Lust
His gaze washed over her, lighting upon her shoulders and waist. The heavy curtain of her wet hair hid her breasts, but Rica felt them grow weighty with a sudden, restless ache.
She stared back at him, seeing a silver rivulet of water trail over the smooth flesh of his neck and through the curls of hair upon his chest.
He stepped toward her and Rica could see he was as moved as she. His chest moved with quick, shallow breaths. “It seems,” he said in a low voice, “we share a favor for this part of the river.”
Rica swallowed. “So it would seem,” she whispered.
He stopped bare inches away from her. “I have cursed you,” he said in a husky tone. He glanced away, then back again to her, and shook his head. His breath soughed over her face, smelling of mint. “You haunt my dreams.”
He touched her cheek and Rica nearly swooned. She closed her eyes and caught his hand, pressing it between her cheek and her palm. It was hot and strong. “I will never be able to confess this,” she whispered almost desperately.
“Tis madness,” he agreed, his voice a low rasp.
The sudden, fierce barking of the dog shattered the moment. Solomon snatched his hand from her as if he were burned. “Dear God,” he muttered, and stared at her as if she were a witch.
A sound of hooves in the forest reached them, and Solomon bent to retrieve Rica’s clothes and basket. He hastily shoved them at her as she whistled for Leo, who bounded toward her, shaking water from his fur forcefully.
Terrified, Rica glanced at Solomon. He didn’t hesitate, but dragged her, clutching her clothes, into a thicket of bushes. Leo struggled in behind them, and though he whined almost inaudibly, he shushed even that small noise at Rica’s touch.
They were crowded hard in the small space, but neither moved. The hoofbeats came nearer, thudding in some hurry, then passed no more than a few feet away. Rica smothered a gasp as she spied the white boots of Rudolf’s stallion. He had come after her.
As the sound faded into the distance, Rica became aware of Solomon once more. His knee was pressed against her thigh and a loop of her hair rested on his arm, soaking his sleeve. His side was pressed into hers and his body seemed extraordinarily warm. She stared at his hands with their scrubbed knuckles and clean nails, at the long gentle fingers and the hot strong palm that had lain against her cheek.
Abruptly, Solomon pulled away. “He is gone.”
She followed him from the thicket of bushes into the lowering sunlight of the grove. Suddenly aware of her near-nudity in the thin wet shift, she donned her tunic. Nervously, she steepled her fingers and listened for the sound of hooves in the forest. “It was a vassal of my father’s on that horse.”
Solomon’s face was grim. He pointed to a bluff. “He watched you—there. When I saw your dog, I thought it might be you he watched.”
Rica lifted her chin. “Were you coming for a look yourself?”
His nostrils flared. “Perhaps you should not bathe in the forest again, lady.”
“It has always been deserted here,” she protested. Then, remembering the pagan thoughts of him that had filled her mind at the caress of the water, she bowed her head. “Perhaps I should not,” she said softly.
With a low, growling sound, Solomon moved close. He stood before her and tipped up her chin. “Have no shame, Rica, for you are as God created you.” A blazing light glimmered in his eyes. “I would give many years to be able to lie with you honestly.”
She swallowed, pricked at his admission. “Men will often give much to have knowledge of a woman that makes their cock rise,” she said, and turned her head from the grip of his fingers. “It was for the lust of men that so many laws were given women.”
Shifting her skirts away from his feet, she bent to pick up her basket.
His hand curled around her arm. “Lust?” he said softly. “Is it lust that sends me dreams of you? Lust
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