Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters Read Online Free PDF Page A

fingertips would. He couldn’t believe that such a woman was running around the woods, all alone and now, free. He watched the droplets pool and run down her face, catching on the top shapely ridge of her full upper lip.
     

She blew it off as if irritated by it. The sight of her wet skin caused a catch in his throat – luxurious, full of luster and sheen – the richest walnut.
    For some reason, he realized he preferred darker skin on a woman. Maybe that was because he had been raised by women of darker skin. Or it could be that he watched his fair, white, Irish grandfather, love on his grandmother – the way a man does when he feels it to the core. She had been darker than the woman before him now. His grandfather had always been touching her skin, her face, like he couldn’t get enough.
    As he stood with his eyes taking in the woman before him, it all began to make sense to him.
    Her hair, went down her back in thick dark waves and twirls, dripping wet and heavy.
    His mind stood in absolute objection to the plans they had for her – in complete opposition to it all, he realized it would be nothing more than a waste of a perfectly good woman. To do to her what he was being paid to do, did not fit right. The closer he eased, the further away she moved. Her movement to keep a distance between them gave him that ugly feeling in the pit of his guts again.
    Grabbing all of her weapons and pouches she backed up and then stood her full height. The sight of her unfolded body, made his head fill with bees, buzzing to match the conflict of his soul.
    His horse drank – he needed to turn away and do the same, but he didn’t wish to take his eyes off of her. She was wild and amazing – desirable beyond what any man could hope for. They’d tried to turn her into a fancy - to be sold to someone to rape, torture and abuse. If things went too far, to kill. Knowledge of that moved something in him - it was a sin to do that to any woman, but to do it to the one that stood before him was beyond his grasp to approve.
    Catching and killing her – would be equal to him giving them his stamp of approval. Equal to saying that all they’d done to his ancestors, had been right to do. He would then, be as guilty and sinful as the Englishmen his grandfather detested – hated. He had to look away - he had to drink water – or she would know.
    He sensed that about her.
     

She had instincts that she would listen to – and right then, he hated that he was after her for no good. After her for a bunch of men he would never be found enjoying the company of. No sooner had he leaned down to fill his water pouch - than she was gone. He heard her move like the wind rushing across the valley.
    He didn’t jump to his feet - he only glanced up in the direction he thought she’d gone while still holding the pouch under water to fill. He knelt in place and prayed that her curiosity would have her hiding close by – close enough to keep him in clear sight. If he learned anything out of following her, she would hide perhaps up high and watch him. He prayed as he risked himself this way, she would not kill him where he knelt. If she was what they claimed her to be, evil – wicked - she would kill him.
    Suddenly, he wondered had he gone mad, had he lost his mind? He was risking his life – she had a clear shot of him. He had no doubt that she could, but also – he knew that she wouldn’t. This woman was not what they built her up to be. He hadn’t believed it when they said it. She was no witch, no demon, nor evil – not in the least. However, she was most certainly – an enchantress. Already, he felt a strange type of spirit moving over him – and it came from following her, finding her. He decided that he too would bathe and unlike her, he would remove his clothing. He wanted her to believe that he was what he said he was – thus treating their encounter, nonchalantly.
    Nik-Nik snorted a few times tossing her head in the air as he stripped