Chapter 8
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Chapter Eight
Angad allowed himself to be led, enjoying the warmth of her hand in his and intrigued as to where she was taking him.
He didn't understand why the flowers hadn't pleased her. The huge arrangements certainly would have pleased any of the women he'd dated in the past.
As Kripa led him around the side of the country manor, Angad noted how the sunlight danced in her dark hair, causing reddish highlights to flirt and dance. His fingers itched to wrap themselves in the silky strands.
She took him to the greenhouse and as they entered, she released his hand and gestured to the plants and flowers surrounding them. "This is the kind of flower I like, growing, living flowers." She tilted her head and gazed at him curiously. "Have you ever planted a flower?"
She looked so charming that he wished he could tell her yes, but he wasn't going to lie. "Never. We have gardeners for that."
"There is nothing better than getting your hands dirty." She grabbed a spade and knelt down at a bed where pots of various flowers sat waiting to be planted. For a moment he stared at her in surprise, then he knelt beside her and within minutes they were covered with mud to their elbows.
Angad had to admit there was something sensuous and evocative about planting, but he wasn't sure if it was the warmth and texture of the mud on his fingers, or the utter pleasure that lit Kripa's features.
"I've always believed marriage is sort of like planting flowers. It isn't enough just to plant them. To flourish, you have to nurture them."
He considered her words with interest. "I might have believed that once, but now I know marriage is simply a duty that must be fulfilled."
She gazed at him sadly. "And if that's why you marry, then you will never know real happiness."
Angad found the conversation strangely unsettling.
She seemed to sense his discomfort and laughed suddenly. It had been that wonderfully musical laugh and the sparkle in her eyes that had made him choose her, and he found himself grinning at her in response. "What is so funny?"
"If only your subjects could see you now. His Royal Highness with his face streaked with mud."
"Where?" Without thinking he touched his face with his muddy fingers. Again she laughed, and the music of her laughter soared through him.
"Your face is dirty, too." He reached out and smeared mud across her cheek. She looked at him in astonishment, then dissolved into laughter.
Angad didn't know anything about love, but at that moment all he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to gather Kripa into his arms and kiss her with the passion that was growing inside him.
He decided not to fight the impulse, but rather to give in to it.
.+ Comeents? Next part in 10 minutes +.
.+shabina+.
Angad allowed himself to be led, enjoying the warmth of her hand in his and intrigued as to where she was taking him.
He didn't understand why the flowers hadn't pleased her. The huge arrangements certainly would have pleased any of the women he'd dated in the past.
As Kripa led him around the side of the country manor, Angad noted how the sunlight danced in her dark hair, causing reddish highlights to flirt and dance. His fingers itched to wrap themselves in the silky strands.
She took him to the greenhouse and as they entered, she released his hand and gestured to the plants and flowers surrounding them. "This is the kind of flower I like, growing, living flowers." She tilted her head and gazed at him curiously. "Have you ever planted a flower?"
She looked so charming that he wished he could tell her yes, but he wasn't going to lie. "Never. We have gardeners for that."
"There is nothing better than getting your hands dirty." She grabbed a spade and knelt down at a bed where pots of various flowers sat waiting to be planted. For a moment he stared at her in surprise, then he knelt beside her and within minutes they were covered with mud to their elbows.
Angad had to admit there was something sensuous and evocative about planting, but he wasn't sure if it was the warmth and texture of the mud on his fingers, or the utter pleasure that lit Kripa's features.
"I've always believed marriage is sort of like planting flowers. It isn't enough just to plant them. To flourish, you have to nurture them."
He considered her words with interest. "I might have believed that once, but now I know marriage is simply a duty that must be fulfilled."
She gazed at him sadly. "And if that's why you marry, then you will never know real happiness."
Angad found the conversation strangely unsettling.
She seemed to sense his discomfort and laughed suddenly. It had been that wonderfully musical laugh and the sparkle in her eyes that had made him choose her, and he found himself grinning at her in response. "What is so funny?"
"If only your subjects could see you now. His Royal Highness with his face streaked with mud."
"Where?" Without thinking he touched his face with his muddy fingers. Again she laughed, and the music of her laughter soared through him.
"Your face is dirty, too." He reached out and smeared mud across her cheek. She looked at him in astonishment, then dissolved into laughter.
Angad didn't know anything about love, but at that moment all he knew was that he wanted nothing more than to gather Kripa into his arms and kiss her with the passion that was growing inside him.
He decided not to fight the impulse, but rather to give in to it.
.+ Comeents? Next part in 10 minutes +.
.+shabina+.
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