She wore an old flowing robe of a deep rose hue. Of the simplest cut, it hung from her shoulders and obscured her body. It barely revealed the shape that it skimmed, but he had no trouble seeing what was beneath. The image of her naked, tapering back and nipped waist, of the lovely curve of her hips flaring above the feet on which they rested, kept flicking in his head all day, like a banner snapping in the breeze.

He stepped toward her, but she did not notice him behind her. Instead her head ducked again as she bent toward her knees, reminding him of the suggestive pose she had assumed in the cottage when she leaned forward and rested her weight on her hands. In his mind’s eye she completed the movement, rising on her knees so her pretty, round bottom lifted.…

Blinking the fantasy away, he looked to the ground and saw what occupied her more than the music.

She had smoothed the dirt at her feet, and now drew on it with a stick. The scene in front of her, of men and women surrounding a fire, filled the middle of the dirt. Animals of the hunt and birds of the forest watched from the edges. All of the figures, human and beast, directed their attention to a man atop the fire holding a harp. He was drawn larger than all the others, and in more detail.

It was another tapestry design, such as she had sold to David. He noted with some annoyance that she had not included him.

“It is clever,” he said. “A pity you cannot save it.”

“It is in my head. When I have time to use ink and parchment, I will remember most of it.” She spoke as if she had known he was behind her after all.

“You were taught this in the convent?”

“I sought to learn it. There was not much else to do there except pray and learn Latin. And it proved useful. I sell the images to earn some coin for cloth and such, since I was left with little when I was widowed.”

“You will not need to clothe yourself in the future.”

She straightened, and tilted her head to examine her work. “Well, one never knows. Even so, I might continue. I have grown fond of doing it.”

“Then we will make sure that you have inks and parchments.”

He stood by her shoulder. Only the barest space separated them. He was very conscious of how close he was to her. He could feel her warmth on his thigh. He could imagine the skin beneath the rose cloth. He tasted her again, as if his mouth pressed and bit her neck as it had hours ago.