ArShi FF: Witch's Spell (Part 3 on PG 26) - Page 7

Part 2

Then for the first time he looked to see who had been skillful enough to help him.

Not realising she was doing so, Khushi looked as she bend down to insert the stone under the shoe, had pushed back her sun-bonnet so that still tied by it's ribbons under her chin, it hung down her back.

Her hair could now be seen curling unfashionably over her head in a natural and very attractive manner, and was in the sunshine turned to burning gold.

It was vivid gold of the daffodils in spring, the jasmine when it first appears after the cold of the winter and the corn when it is just beginning to ripen in the fields.

Anybody who saw Khushi looked at her hair as if they did not believe it could possibly be natural, but must owe it's vivid colour to the dye-pot.

It complemented the pink and white clarity of her skin and blue eyes, which strangely enough were the vivid blue of an alpine flower rather than the soft blue of an English summer sky.

Despite the cynical expression on his face, there was a look of astonishment in the eyes of the Gentleman.

At the same time if he was surprised by her, Khushi was certainly surprised by him.

Never had she seen a man who looked so sardonic.

His hair was dark, his features clear-cut and while his eye brows seemed almost to meet across the bridge of his nose, almost contemptuous expression in his eyes as if he despised everything & everyone.

They stood looking at each other until the Gentleman said dryly:

"You certainly make me believe that the stories of pretty milk-maids are after all, not exaggerated!"

There was a faint twist to his lips which one could hardly call a smile as he added:

"Here is something to add to your bottom drawer when you find a hefty young farmer to make you happy."

Then as Khushi would have looked down at what he had given her, he moved a step forward and putting his hand under her chin turned her face up to his.

Before she realised what was happening, before she had time to think, he bent his head and his lips were on hers.

She felt as if he held her prisoner and it was impossible to move or breathe.

Then, as at the back of her mind she knew she must struggle and at the same time tell him that he insulted her, he released her and with the lithe grace of an athletic man, sprang into the saddle.

While she was still staring at him in bewilderment he said:

"What is more, he will be a very lucky man. Tell him I said so."

He rode off and as Khushi watched the dust from his horse's hoofs rising behind him she thought she must be dreaming.

Only when the stranger was out of sight did she ask herself how she could have been so stupid as to have stood there gaping at him like any half-witted yokel while he kissed her.

It was the first time she had ever been kissed.

Then she stared down at what she held in her hand, she it was a golden guinea (British coin){The guinea is a coin that was minted in the Kingdom of England and later in the Kingdom of Great Britain and the United Kingdom between 1663 and 1814.It was the first English machine-struck gold coin, originally worth one pound sterling, equal to twenty shillings; but rises in the price of gold caused the value of the guinea to increase, at times to as high as thirty shillings; from 1717 until 1816, its value was officially fixed at twenty-one shillings. Following that, Great Britain adopted the gold standard and guinea became a colloquial or specialised term.} and could hardly believe it was real.

Khushi was used to walking about the countryside by herself and everybody in the village knew her.

It had never stuck her for one moment that a stranger might think it odd or as she realise now, mistake her, because of the way she was dressed, for a milk-maid.

Her worn cotton gown was a little too tight from so many washes, her sun-bonnet was faded because she had worn it since she was a child.

Even so she did not look in the least like Molly, the farmer's daughter who helped him to milk his cows.

Nor did she resemble in any way, the middle-aged women who had worked on Honeysuckle Farm, some of them for twenty years.

" A milk-maid! " she whispered to herself, and thought how angry her father would be at what had happened.

Then she could not help thinking it was her own fault.

She had gone to assistance of the stranger without explaining who she was.

Although he might have guessed from the few words she spoke to him that she was educated, she could hardly blame him for believing her to come from a very different background.

At the same time she thought it was an insult even for a milk-maid to be kissed by a stranger man for no reason except that she had helped him.

Because she was not only angry, but in fact humiliated, Khushi instinct was to throw away the guinea the stranger had given her and hope nobody would ever know what had happened.

Then she told herself that would be a wicked waste of money, for a guinea would buy many things which her father paid for himself for the poor and sick in the village.

Times were hard since the war, and it was difficult for the younger men to find employment.

Those who were not fortunate enough to work at the Hall or on the Earl's (Noble rank){An earl is a member of the nobility} estate had to feed themselves by growing vegetables and keeping a few chickens.

Khushi looked down again at the guinea and thought that, if she slipped it into the Poor-Box

in the church which usually contained nothing, her father would be delighted.

He would bless the unknown benefactor, which was very far from her own feelings towards him!

As the full realisation that she had been kissed by a man she had never met before and would never meet again swept over her, Khushi said beneath her breath:

" How dare he! How dare he behave to me in such a manner? It is monstrous that no girl should be safe in a country lane from men like him! "

In the violence of her indignation, her fingers tightened on the guinea and she asked herself how she could have been so stupid as not to have returned it to him the moment he gave it to her.

Similarly she should have known when he put his finger under her chin what he was about to do.

It had however never entered her mind that a man she didn't know and who had seen her for the first time would wish to kiss her.

Yet it was just the way, she told herself, that she would expect the Bucks and Beaux whom NK was always talking about, to behave in London.

She should therefore have been on her guard from the moment she heard the man swearing in the lane, and should have guessed what he would be like, when she saw his horse.

" I hate him " she said aloud.

Then she found herself thinking that her first kiss was not in the least what she had expected.

She had always thought a kiss between two people would be something very soft and gentle.

Given with love and received with love, it would be something which reminded one of flowers, music and the first of the evening stars coming out in the sky.

Instead the stranger's lips had been hard and possessive and Khushi thought again that he had held her prisoner so that she would not escape.

" If that is a kiss," she exclaimed." I want no more of them!"