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” I said. “The queen is good to the poor.”
“Indeed” he said. “How quickly your needle goes in and outI should make such a knot of it. How
tiny and deft your fingers are.”
His head was bent toward my handsI found I was looking at the base of his neck and thinking that
I should like to touch the thick curling hair.
“Your hands must be half the size of mine” he said idly. “Stretch them out and show me.”
I stabbed the needle into the shirts for the poor people and stretched out my hand to show himpalm
uptoward him. His gaze never left my face as he put his hand out toopalm to palm toward mine
yet not touching. I could feel the warmth of his hand against my handbut I could not take my eyes
from his face. His mustache curled a little around his lipsI wondered if the hair would be softlike
my husband’s dark sparse curlsor wiry like spun gold. It looked as if it might be strong and
scratchyhis kiss might buff my face to rednesseveryone would know we had been kissing.
Beneath the little curls of hair his lips were sensualI could not take my eyes from themI could not
help but think about the touch of themthe taste of them.
Slowlyhe brought his hand closer to minelike dancers closin [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]