A hard shove made Peter’s shoulder scream in protest. The men laughed good-naturedly as they herded him toward Zipporah; they had no idea what they were asking of him. For them this was just a bit of diversion from the mundane activities of daily life.
Zipporah looked flushed. Embarrassment, or desire? He couldn’t tell yet. Peter felt like an idiot. He never should have done this to her.
He took her by one draping sleeve, the men cheering him on. “You don’t have to.”
Her eyes were very blue in the open sunlight. “You have your pride, and I have mine.” She sounded out of breath. So, it was desire then wasn’t it? “You did well. Your skill has improved.”
“Don’t talk her to death,” Sir Mark yelled.
Peter ducked his head. “I really thought it would be John here right now, not me.” He shifted closer, her scent of juniper and warmth and woman surrounding him. The heat radiating off her skin clouded his judgment. He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth as her lips parted. The other knights, the people in the stands, everything faded from awareness…
Darcy Branwyn 
Leave a comment