The neck of her silken shift, a wonderful creation that slid and slithered over her shapely body like a second skin, was still untied and her bare shoulder glowed in the dawn’s light.Young she looked, and soft and lovely in her sleep, her mouth forming what could almost be a pout, kissable and irresistible. To think that only days ago he faced ruin and despair, utter failure and loneliness. God must have heard his fervent prayers, as he had told Father Rhodri, and sent him salvation from far more than poverty and disgrace.Fiona stirred, sighed, and snuggled against him, making him feel strong and protective, blissfully contented as he had never been before. He wanted to laugh with the joy of it. Only the fear of waking her and breaking this spell stopped him, for he would have this bliss last as long as possible.A lock of her hair brushed her cheek, and he caressed it away so that he could see her face. Pretty? No, she wasn’t pretty. She was lovely—lovable. Soft and welcoming, almost a wanton in her desire, arousing him as no woman ever had.Perhaps they could make love again this morning—except that Dafydd and the others would be waiting for him.Surely the men could gather the flock again without him, and start the shearing, too, even if more than a few would be the worse for braggot.
