Iron & Fire by Kerrin Willis

Author:Kerrin Willis [Willis, Kerrin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kerrin Willis
Published: 2022-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Kit

1 July 1675

In the abject monotony of Kit’s life, Verity Parker was an enigma. She was a puzzle in miniature that he could take out of the pocket of his mind and work over while he went about his day. In appearance, she was no more than the size of a jackrabbit, with those nutmeg-colored curls constantly escaping the confines of her cap, and the grey eyes that devoured everything they looked at.

Kit very much enjoyed it when those eyes devoured him.

“Yer smilin’ again, man,” Caleb Munroe said with a knowing grin, interrupting his latest reverie. Kit was working at the forge, feeding massive logs into the fire while Munroe and Harvey worked the enormous bellows.

“He’s thinkin’ of where he wants to put his own pole.” Harvey nudged Munroe with his elbow, his lips stretching into a lascivious smile that displayed his few remaining teeth.

Kit wiped his brow with his forearm, pushing the grimy sweat back up into his hair before it could run and sting his eyes. Harvey thought only of two things, what he could put into his belly and where he could put his prick.

“You’ve figured me out, James.” Kit gave a final heave with his shoulder. “You’re just so bloody handsome I can’t help it.”

The shocked look on Harvey’s face sent Kit and Munroe into gales of laughter. Harvey was a master of the bawdy joke, but his lack of intellect meant that he was rarely, if ever, quick with a comeback.

“Our lad here knows where he can take care of his needs,” Munroe said with a waggle of his eyebrows. “That’s something that’s worth the coin.”

Kit nodded in response, playing along with their game. Harvey and Munroe were still laughing and elbowing one another suggestively under the ribs, trading stories of various conquests and talents, when the foreman came pushing through, calling Kit’s name.

“Harwell!” He looked around him at the sea of sweaty men and soot-stained faces. “Harwell!”

“Here, sir.” Kit jumped down from atop the giant hammer.

“Harwell!” the foreman continued to yell as if Kit were not mere feet away. “Ye’ve a visitor outside. Be quick about it - I’m not paying you to be a layabout.”

“Yes, sir,” Kit responded, grabbing his shirt from a nearby bench and quickly pulling it over his head. He pulled at the thong which held his hair in a messy tail and hastily plaited the curls, hoping for at least some semblance of tidiness.

A visitor?

For him?

Hardly anyone visited the forge, save for the occasional wife or child of a worker who was bringing a hot lunch. Kit, having no such family, had never been visited at the forge, or anywhere else for that matter.

The blinding white of the midday sun struck Kit as he emerged from the smokey darkness of the forge. His eyes squinted involuntarily, and it took a moment for them to adjust enough for him to see that there, in front of the water pump, arms crossed, stood Verity Parker.

Kit pushed an escaped lock of

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