David turned me into the shadow of the wall. He brushed my lips so lightly I couldn’t tell if he had touched me with his breath or his mouth. The wind gusted, and he was gone.
I clung to my shawl, holding in his warmth, the strength of his shoulders, the excitement of his chest. I had never allowed a man to hold me before. But David was different. He awoke strange and uncontrollable sensations. A tiny star shivered, wavered, and plummeted straight into my heart, mingling with my unspoken wish. And I knew at once why songs are sung and ballads told.
* * *
The sun broke through after a few days of rain. I donned a saffron gown trimmed with golden threads and pulled golden bracelets on my wrists. Mother braided my hair and insisted I wear a scarf. I pulled on a diaphanous one and headed for the wall to enjoy the sun. Unlike Merab, my olive complexioned skin did not burn easily. The small scroll of Ruth under my arm, I climbed the steps two at a time.
David looked up from the bench in the guard shack. His eyes widened, and a smile crept on his face. “Nice day, Princess.”
I stopped at the top of the stairs. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“This is such a peaceful place. You don’t mind sharing?” He moved his harp to make room.
“Not at all.” I scooted next to him, slightly breathless, my body humming with an unsettling frisson. “What are you doing with your harp?”
“Changing strings. Wouldn’t want them to break while I play for your father.”
My father’s temper had raged and thundered with the recent storm. I took David’s hand and touched the blisters on the tips of his fingers. “Is my father feeling better?”
“Thankfully, he’s settled down. I’m free for the rest of the day.” His breath was a little too hot. I giggled and dropped his hand.
“What do you have there?” He pointed to my scroll.
“My favorite story. Ruth and Boaz.”
He regarded me with a clandestine smile, shook his head, and pulled a new string onto his harp.
“What?” I shoved the scroll aside. “You know, David. You’re on my bench.” I removed my scarf and unbraided my hair. “I came here for some sun and quiet.”
“Oh, excuse me for intruding.” He gathered the loose strings and prepared to leave.
I pressed him down, one finger on his shoulder. “Since you’re on my bench, you might as well show me a few things.”
“Only a few?” He twirled a string between his thumb and forefinger.
I pointed to his harp, perched on his lap. “May I touch?”
“Um… sure, it’s a shepherd’s harp. My grandfather made it for me.” He handed it to me.
I trailed my fingers over the smooth curves. The wood where his hands rested was well-worn and polished. “It’s splendid. Lighter than I thought.”
The scent was reminiscent of crushed bay leaves, clean and fresh. Swirls of tan, red, yellow and brown grain rippled along the contour of its body.
“It’s made of myrtle wood,” he said.
“And the strings?”
“Sheep gut.” He laughed. “Go ahead, pluck them.”
I picked the fibrous strings. The tones jarred. “Ooph. It sounds much better in your hands.”
David took the harp back. “Forgive me, the strings are not tuned. I’ll finish and show you how to play.”
His nimble fingers made quick work of the restringing. With closed eyes, he plucked two strings at a time and adjusted the pegs until they rang true. His face took on an angelic aura, and his hair shimmered in the sunlight.
The harp tuned, he placed it on my lap, arranging my hands to hold it, and plucked a few strings to demonstrate. “The pitch of the longer string is deeper. Those from the shorter strings are higher. Some intervals sound nice when plucked together. If we skip a string or two… this string, this one, and this…”
My head swam with possibilities, and I could not catch his words. His hands touched my hands, his thigh pressed against mine, and his breath tickled my hair. My bracelets jangled as I strummed a cacophony of disharmony as wild and frothy as my feelings.
He was so close, I could hardly breathe. My shoulders wobbled, and my fingers fluttered over the strings. Tempted to melt into his arms, I pushed the harp back and warned myself to behave as a princess should.
“Giving up already?” His lips curved with barely concealed amusement.
“No… I’m just hot. You know, the weather. Can you sing for me?”
I caught my breath as he sang and picked the strings to the cadence of a rippling brook. The earthy timbre of his voice wrapped around the clean tones of his instrument. Wooing, seducing, trapping—he held me with the promise of his song.
When he finished, he handed the harp to me, the frame still vibrating. His fingers toyed with my hair, and his warm breath caressed my face. His mouth drew near, eyes intent, seeking permission.
Hesitant, my lips parted. Curious, my eyes closed. And his lips brushed the corners of my mouth, an invitation to taste, to touch, to hold. I accepted and held my breath as his tongue slipped over mine. A flurry of tingles danced around my waist and trailed down to my toes.
I clutched the harp, unable to move. Everything was possible, and the world was mine, and life was glorious.
And at the center of it all was David.
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If you enjoyed Knowing Vera, check out Crime & Passion
by Chantel Rhondeau
A decorated police officer, more intent on justice than following the letter of the law, lands in trouble when a schoolteacher finds a dead body on the beach.
Officer Donovan Andrews knows how to have a good time—ask any woman in town. But when it comes to men abusing their wives or children, Donovan takes it upon himself to make them regret it.
Madeline Scott is unlucky in love. All she wants is a quiet place to heal, away from cheating, womanizing men. However, her life is far from peaceful once she stumbles across the body and witnesses someone fleeing the scene.
Terror spreads in Pleasant View when the small community hears a killer is on the loose. All evidence points to Donovan, and he realizes someone is trying to frame him. When troubling suspicions from his past surface, even fellow officers believe he’s guilty. Madeline might be the only person who can clear his name, but first he has to win her trust.
The body count rises and no one is safe. The murderer makes it clear Madeline is next. Soon, Donovan’s whole world is focused on protecting her and keeping himself out of prison. The more time he spends with her, the harder it is to fight his growing attraction. Since she’s been burned by love, convincing Madeline he’s interested in something more than hot sex may prove harder than keeping her alive.
Coming soon from Chantel Rhondeau
Love & Deception (Book 1-Agents in Love)
What if everything you believed in was a lie?
In hiding for six years, Carlie Hollis is tired of running. All she wants is to stay in Sayle, Washington and make a success of her struggling delicatessen. Because of her past, she’s suspicious of anyone who takes an interest in her.
Nick Kendall works as a spy in a top-secret government operation, protecting innocent people from danger. Sent to Sayle on a mission to infiltrate a suspected terrorist organization, Nick finds himself attracted to Carlie, an alleged key player of the group.
Despite her misgivings, Carlie develops feelings for the handsome stranger, believing he is there to help her. But when Nick finds evidence of her guilt, he’s given orders to do the unthinkable—eliminate the target, one he's fallen hopelessly in love with. Will he follow orders...or become hunted himself?
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Note to Readers
Prologue
Chapter 1
> Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Vera’s Recipes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Knowing Vera (Romantic Suspense, Family Drama) (Chance for Love) Page 30
