‘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.
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