Read Online The Sharp Hook of Love by Sherry Jones - Free Book Online

can.”
    â€œMy father loves the sea. I learned to swim before I could walk. But—behold your stricken face! Heloise, are you crying?” I was not. He saw only water from the river glistening on my cheeks, for I had used all my tears sobbing for my mother, many years ago.
    We sat still for a moment, swaying together in the breeze. “Did you think I loved Agnes?” Abelard finally said. “There is no one but you, Heloise. As God is my witness, I have never been with another, not even in my thoughts.”
    And then, O my beating heart! Under the spreading linden tree beside the Seine, in the air suffused with its sweetness, Abelard kissed me, his lips trembling with cold and his arms entwined around my waist. His mouth’s tender press made me feel like moonlight itself, aglow and shimmering. A shiver ran through me. I tightened my hold, sliding my arms around his neck, and resisted my hands’ urge to wander. Our lips parted and our tongues met, and I tasted his sweetness like that of a juicy apple. Warmth spread through me as though I were melting, and yet my skin tingled everywhere we touched. I wanted both to sigh and to sing.
    â€œHeloise,” he murmured, kissing my nose, my cheeks, my forehead. “Your softness; your delicious flavor; I would devour you, if I could.” From under those curling eyelashes, his gaze dipped into mine and drew me in.
    A shiver ran through him. I folded myself around him completely, holding him so close to me that I could feel his heart knocking at my chest, and willed myself to believe his words. None other, even in my thoughts.
    â€œYou are cold, and I am to blame. Forgive me, please, for my foolish behavior.”
    He kissed my cheek. The brush of his lips made me shudder. The linden’s aroma enwrapped us like a sweet vine.
    â€œI would hurl myself into the waters every night in order to feel your arms around me,” Abelard said.
    He would not need to do so, I nearly replied—but then I remembered what a dear price he had paid.
    â€œYour beautiful astralabe. It is lost, because of me.” I covered my face with my hands. “Seneca warned against jealousy. Why didn’t I heed him?”
    â€œJealousy?” He kissed my hands, pulling them away from my face. “As if you had anything to envy in anyone—you, the swan among clucking hens, the glittering gem in the common stones.”
    â€œ Non , not glittering, but dull with stupidity. And, now, deeply in your debt.”
    â€œA debt easily repaid.” He kissed me again, more fervently than before, his breath in slow, deep pants warming my cheek while his hand caressed my waist. I longed to push him backward onto the bank, to spread myself over him like a blanket, to meld his body into mine.
    But, alas, the moon shone full, exposing us to anyone who might pass, and the hour had grown late. We arose and made our way back to the place on the riverbank where we had begun, to retrieve Abelard’s clothing. I sat upon a stone to wring out my hem as, whistling, he dried himself with his cloak. Let God be my witness: I averted my eyes. Yet the grace of his form—his smooth body; the glisten of him, taut curve and sinew, like a Roman sculpture—appears in my mind even now, as though he were a blinding star at which I had stared unblinking.
    â€œHave you seen enough?” he said with a grin. “Or shall I tarry a few moments more?” I looked down at the water, where a glint of light caught my eye. I reached forth my hand and extracted, from the mud, the astralabe.
    â€œBehold!” I cried, lifting it up. “My debt is paid.” I offered it to Abelard, but he shook his head.
    â€œThere was never any debt, Heloise. That astralabe belongs to you.”
    â€œ Non. You must not reward my foolishness with such a gift.” Frowning, I held the instrument out to him.
    He refused it with a laugh. “I bought it for your sake. I had it made