Chapter 15: A Passionate Heart

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She'd avoided her favorite spot for a week now. And grown lonelier and sadder by the day. The coldness she had shown the prince seemed to be freezing her own heart now. But the numbness to which she had grown accustomed would not return to her. No matter what she did. Or what she thought about.

She could not cut off her feelings for him. They had begun to grow from her first encounter with him. And during her last one, they had burst into brilliant flame. Now he haunted her dreams each night. When she could sleep. Which wasn't often.

She would lie – restless – in her bed while visions of him danced in her head. Those warm, cinnamon eyes seemed to follow her at every turn. She couldn't shut them out. Waking, sleeping. Eyes wide open. Or closed to the world. Always his image was before her. His eyes wooing her. His voice wrapping around her with comforting, sweet words, humor trembling his tone. His scent enveloping her. Causing her to crave a freedom she had yet to enjoy.

Unable to stand it any longer, she fled to her garden. Right before sunset. She had no hope that he would be there. He must have given up long ago. Judging her to be a fickle creature. And not worth his time.

A man of stature, handsome appearance, and kind disposition could have any woman for the taking. Why would he wait for a persnickety child?

She must seem so to him. He was a man full-grown. Nearly a decade older than her, surely. And he deserved a real woman. One brimming with the compassion that seemed to flood his soul. One whose laughter would lighten his load and whose love would suffuse his days with delight. One whose wit would fill his own mouth with laughter. And whose affection would embrace him tightly.

She had been a fool. To be so diligently pursued by a good man. Yet to systematically reject him. Time and again.

A tear was sliding down her cheek as she approached her bench from behind. But her feet stopped moving when she heard a beautiful baritone raised in song. She closed her eyes as his mournful words cloaked her in melancholy.

"The cold wind keeps evoking

A picture most provoking.

Of a girl I once did love

With a fondness from above.

"But she turned her back on me

One dark and hot summer's eve.

She fled from our lush garden.

Allowed her fearful heart to harden.

"I would have chased after her

If I could have followed her.

But she threw up her cold walls

And ran down the palace halls.

"Past the point of no return.

What's my lesson to be learned?

Should I never give my heart

To a lass who would depart?"

He really was a splendid poet! But, oh, how his words crushed her! And the agony in his voice too!

Was he singing of her? And of his despair at her absence? At her perceived indifference?

Oh, how far he was from the truth!

She stood, frozen, unaware of the tears now streaking her cheeks. As she listened to the saddest song she had ever heard. And felt every block of ice in her heart melting into a mammoth puddle at her feet. Still unaware that said puddle was actually filling her eyes and slipping down her cheeks, she put the majority of her weight on her left foot. And snapped a twig beneath it.

His head swung around, and his eyes pierced hers. Those haunting, cinnamon eyes full of such warmth. Only, tonight, they were echoing with agony. He flew to his feet and spun towards her. And stood gazing at her. No words flowing from his lips anymore. Only an aching sort of desire pouring from his eyes.

He glanced behind her. And found no guards. His eyes traversed the garden in a full circle. And confirmed his suspicions.

They were alone.

Completely and utterly alone.

He made a move towards her.

And she backed up one step.

"Please," he breathed, "don't flee!"

That breath stilled her. And he strode across the distance separating them.

Only, he didn't stop coming. For his eyes had taken in the tear tracks staining her blushing cheeks, and he knew in that moment that she had missed him as he had missed her. So he didn't stop moving until his arms had found their way around her and drawn her close to him.

Then he stood gazing down at her. His heart convulsing as his eyes traced the tracks of her tears.

"These tears are not for me, surely?" he questioned softly as his fingers crept up her cheek to touch those beads of moisture. And wipe them away. One at a time.

He wished he could as easily wipe away the damage that others had done to her young soul. Years before he'd met her. He yearned to kiss away all her pain. And to embrace her until all her agony had bled away.

Stunned, she blinked. "What tears?"

But she could feel his fingers sliding through the wet stains on her face. "I have no idea where they came from," she whispered.

"From the same place as your wonderful laughter, I suspect," he murmured, his affection for her burning in his eyes. "That beautiful heart of yours."

In the next moment, his fingers were sliding into her hair as his thumb cradled her jaw. And he gazed down at her with love now shining softly from his eyes.

"I have missed you," he declared heartbrokenly before his mouth descended to cover hers.

She started. But a moment later, she melted into his embrace. Lifting her face to him with an eagerness that belied her earlier icy demeanor. All the passion which he'd long suspected lay hidden beneath her breast suddenly surfaced in her lips. And she melted like wax under a burning sun. Offering him her lips with a contented sigh.

He indulged in a lengthy and blissful kiss as his lips danced happily upon hers. And his arm wrapped tightly around her, drawing her close to his heart. As his other hand clung to her face. Several of his fingers trapped in the silk of her gleaming hair.

He took his time with her, allowing all the tenderness he felt in his soul for her to bleed into that kiss. If there was one thing that he knew that she needed, it was a gentle touch. And soft words whispered into her ear. He had stored many up over the last several days. He couldn't wait to pour them into her.

Well, maybe just a little while longer...

Her lips were too enchanting bending under the weight of his adoration of her.

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