1,001 Erotic Nights, Part 3: Siren of Gaul by Lisa Cach

Author:Lisa Cach [Cach, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2014-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

We strolled between the rows of trees on grass turned dry and yellow by summer. I recognized walnut, pear, apricot, apple, cherry; some were past fruiting, others were coming into their prime. Overripe pears had fallen to the ground, the scent of fermentation heady in the air and drawing bees that grew drunk and happy on the melting fruit. The worst heat of the day had eased, and with it the rattling of the cicadas: their ear-numbing noise was being overtaken by the sweet rhythmic chirping of crickets. The sky had taken on a golden hue as the sun lowered to the west, its warmth now something to be savored rather than endured.

My hand was tucked in the crook of Alaric’s arm; I’d taken it without his invitation. I was probably being rudely familiar, given that he was a king and thus above the rest of humanity, but instinct told me he welcomed the intrusion. I knew what it was like to be lonely, and starved for human touch: how much worse to have not only your position, but your sense of morality dictating that you be forever set apart from others. It was inhumane.

I had no intention of letting such an attractive man suffer.

“I—” I started to say.

“I—” he said.

We looked at each other and smiled. We’d been walking in what I had hoped was companionable silence; I wanted him to get used to me.

“You go ahead,” I said.

“I was going to ask about the music you played last night. I have never heard anything like it. Was it a song from the Franks?”

“It was of my own creation, and unplanned. Sometimes I play what I feel inside, and last night was one of those times.”

“What were you feeling?”

I idly stroked the inside of his elbow with my thumb. “A certain . . . pleasure in having met you. I fear I was quite lost in myself and did not take a care for my audience; there were many who did not look pleased with my music. Was it so dreadful? What did you feel while you listened?”

“I felt . . . awakened.”

I glance up at him, and caught a tinge of color on his cheeks. “ ‘Awakened’ is not a bad thing, I hope.” I was curious, now: what exactly had Alaric felt while I played? I wanted to know how much of what was in my own imaginings had bled into his.

“It didn’t seem so at the time.”

“Does it now?”

“I haven’t decided.”

A careful thinker, Alaric. Too careful, perhaps. What a burden that must be, to be forever held back from pleasure by one’s own thoughts. “Tell me more. You were awakened: to what?”

He shook his head. “It’s not a fit topic for a lady’s ears.”

“It’s a fit topic for this lady’s ears. You cannot embarrass me, I promise.”

“I would embarrass myself.”

“That is of your own choice.”

He frowned at me.

I explained. “One can choose not to be embarrassed. I should think it would be especially easy for a king: you simply choose not to care what others think.

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