A kiss, and maybe more?

Christine could only hope that in the dim light of the tack-room that the Verderer could not see the way her cheeks flushed nor sense the excitement she felt as he stared with obvious desire at her bare skin. She could feel the same passion herself. It was similar to the itch that teased her while riding this man's horse after her rescue, but unlike that slow build-up, this time the need washed over her like a wildfire.

"I never thanked you properly, Master Werner," she began softly hoping that by speaking she could alleviate some of the sexual tension that threatened to explode. "For saving me from those brigands," recalling how the outlaw had groped under her skirts was not helping at all. She lowered her eyes to the straw-covered floor and continued breathlessly, "and you let us ride your gelding, and brought us here and -" She stopped suddenly as Werner reached forward and gently lifted her chin with his forefinger.

"Hush." The ball of his thumb rested on her trembling lips, stilling her efforts to speak as effectively as a gag might. This lightest touch on her lips sent sparks through her body from her toes all the way to the stiff tips of her breasts, and the warmth in her belly pulsed in time with her rapidly beating heart.

He kissed her. Christine had been kissed before, but not like this. Even as Werner's lips replaced his thumb her head tilted up to meet his mouth and she let out a soft 'mew' of wonder. This was not like William's clumsy attempts to convince her to accept his suit, and certainly not at all how she imagined Prince Henry might plunder her mouth like a conqueror claiming the spoils of victory. The Verderer's kiss had the strength and conviction of a man who knew what he wanted, blended perfectly with someone aware of her inexperience who wanted her to share the joy and wonder of the kiss.

"Da!" Her short-lived bliss was shattered by the voice of one of Werner's sons calling for his father from just on the other side of the tack-room door. "Da, we need soap!" The magical moment was gone as the Verderer pulled away from her so suddenly that she almost stumbled to the floor.

"Coming." He yelled back, much louder than he needed to, and Christine realized that yet again she had only made this decent man's life worse. The Verderer was a married man and a goodly one at that. He did not need to be tempted by a silly virgin like her, Werner had a wife and family and she and her brother were nothing but trouble for him. "I'm sorry Miss Evelyn," his voice was low and husky so only she would hear. "Here is the soap, and rags I spoke of. I will leave something for you to wear outside the door for when you are done." Taking another small container of soap from the shelf, he slipped from the room leaving Christine shaking uncontrollably alone in the small dark room.

Holding back the tears that had been pushed back since she first left her father to deal with the Black Prince's treachery, she stripped out of the rest of her clothing and stepped into the water of the tub. It was impossible to forget that the Verderer was just on the other side of the simple door and that he could come back at any time. Naked and alone in the small room, there would be little she could do if he returned. She could hear the squeals of laughter coming from the main room, and felt even more alone than ever as she dipped her hands into the bucket of water and began to wash off the filth.

Thankfully the water was the same temperature as the surrounding air and although not warm, neither was it cold. She could only imagine what bathing like this might be like during the winter months, and for the first time in her life, gave thought to how much effort it took her family's servants to heat the water and lug it up to her room from the kitchens each time she felt like soaking in her tub. The sobering thought and the cool water splashing over her sensitive skin helped wash away the burning of the kiss along with the mud and grime that had plastered to her skin. She took her time, using the rosemary-scented soap to scrub both her hair and skin, until she felt like a proper lady once again.

Almost.

Christine had hoped that pouring cold water over her breasts and into the valley between her thighs would cool the heat that had been plaguing her, but the coarse washcloth scraping across her sensitive nipples only made them ache more and when her fingers cupped her sex, she let out an involuntary moan as yet another jolt of desire surged from her loins. Only by the most careful control was she able to wash around the tender folds without repeating the soft cry of pleasure. Unlike her quiet solitary bath, she could hear the laughter and good-natured banter of the boys splashing on the other side of the door and then, well before she had finished, her brother and his newfound friends drifted away to the front of the stables.

She waited with bated breath to see if the Verderer might slip back into the small room and finish what he started, but she waited in vain. When she could put it off no longer, she cracked open the door to the tack-room and found, as promised, clothing to cover her dripping body. A shirt lay folded neatly on the ground just outside the door. It was obviously one of the Verderer's old shirts, a tan-colored long-sleeved shirt of roughspun linen that had been worn thin in the elbows and collar. It even smelled like the man and pulling it over her head was a painful reminder of their elicit embrace.

On her petite frame the large man's shirt hung below her knees and although the sleeves were much too long, she tied the cuffs tightly above her elbows and when the sleeves fell back down, they covered her arms perfectly. The V-neck of the garment was more problematic as it hung low enough to completely expose first one fat breast and then the other as it slid about, but by lacing the ties tightly she was able to mostly close the gap. Thankfully, she did not have to wear this garb out of the house, because even when she strapped her braided leather belt around her thin waist, the results were frankly as provocative as the clothes worn by the fallen women, she had seen walking the nighttime streets.

It did not help that she had on no underclothes at all, but if she wanted to wash her leggings and shift, this was the only way. Checking her appearance one more time in what little light there was she stepped from the tack room and made her way past the rain barrel and stalls to where Erik and the other two boys were playing a game involving hitting a ball made of tightly wound rags along the floor using forked sticks. The rules of the game were a little unclear, because at any moment any of the three could be set upon by the others and grabbed and tickled before any attempt to hit the ball towards the goal line was resumed.

"Come join us, Chrissy." Her brother begged happily, "it's fun." The other two nodded happily and Jorad offered her his forked playing stick. Even as little as a week ago Christine might have been tempted. She was a bit of a Tom-boy and the wild antics looked like a great deal more fun than the board games she was used to, but this was no time for childish games. Besides, she was hardly dressed decently enough to seen by these young men, she couldn't imagine being tickled or groped by one of them.

Shaking her head 'no' with a smile to soften the blow she turned to find the Verderer sitting on a low bench studying her with a hint of a smile on his lips.