‘Sweetling’ he grinned, ‘‘Tis time you learnt experience eclipses fumbling adolescence every time. His dangled promise of delight is but soft come-quickly when compared to the stiffness of my intent to prick more than your conscience into cleaving solely unto me.’
I allowed my hair to eclipse my gleeful anticipation: such a welcome promise to dangle before me, sufficiently dispelling stiffness from the tumble I had taken (and sorrow for the one I’d not, since my jealous spouse appeared several minutes sooner than desired.)
But damn his eyes, he well read mine, and laughed and bade me wait ‘til dark.
This is part 37 of 'The blacksmith's wife'. The whole is a prompt-led serial which began on the Friday Prediction, in March and continued, one hundred words at a time, for forty-one episodes. One of my aims in this 100 days project is to complete the illustrations for each episode and publish the tale in book form. The story can be read in its entirety here.