It was only a matter of turning his head to let his lips just barely touch her wrist. He waited for her to reach for a blade, but she remained still, watching him, fascinated. Her pulse sped up beneath his mouth. He did not dare even to breathe as her hand moved beneath his, turning over and moving closer. Haps it was yet another dream. It must be, the way her fingers curled against his jaw in a faint caress while he tasted the sweet skin inside her wrist.

She stared at the place where he kissed her as though entranced. Her fingers spread out against him, holding his face as his mouth opened over her pulse. He thought he might die from the pleasure of seeing her lips part, of feeling the gentle rush of air escape her when he moved his tongue over her skin.

Five years. Five years since he had tasted a woman. And never one like her.

Her eyes met his, startling blue, and still she did not pull away or reach for a blade. She wanted this. The certainty of it caused his body to throb painfully, aching for more. He thought his breath must scorch her, that he would be burned to naught but ashes on the ground from this one touch.

In the same moment he began to reach for her, her aunt’s voice called her name softly through the door. Nan jerked her hand away as though he had burned her in truth, her eyes turning to the door as she rose swiftly.

At the threshold she paused in the square of sunlight that fell into the house. She turned her head over her shoulder, in profile to him but not looking directly at him. A high color was fading from her cheeks.

“I would leave within the hour, if it please you, so we may enter Lincoln before night falls tomorrow.”

The words were courteous, impersonal, as though there had been no touch between them. She stepped outside, leaving him alone with the aching memory of it, his mouth full of her heartbeat.

To his amazement, Nan insisted on leaving the mule with her aunt. When Mary protested it as too generous, Nan only said the animal would be a hindrance to her in the journey ahead and that Mary did her a great service by keeping it. At least for a time, she said, for she was sure to come back.

“And until I do, your Edmer can go to the well and bring back more than enough for a day of cooking and washing and anything else besides,” she said. He could also do as they had done yesterday, bringing rushes to the old woman who made woven mats and rush lights that could be sold at market – as she had used to do before her husband died. With one simple gesture, Nan gave them the means to better care for themselves.