Ducky, and set in the afternoon? Any objections, let me know <3 c:
Word Count -> 341
She was good at running. That was a fact, and she knew it. This time, she got further faster in the company of her new mount. It was a beautiful Clydesdale, a palomino mare with a white mane as pale as the stars. Isabella petted the mare's thick neck with love, even though she had barely known the creature more than two scant months. The Clydesdale, named Seductive Deception, called Ducky, was a quiet one, easily to love and loved easily. She was the exact opposite of the dark woman, who gave no one her love and was only easy to lust after. Why would she have it any other way? She was not a mount to travel upon at a whim, though the dark hybrid loved the mare with all her heart. That was a rarity, and it only made her deceptions easier.
Yet, the woman wondered why she dared to go further north, when winter was starting to creep up on her. It would have been wiser to travel south to the warm seas she heard stories about. But, since when did Isabella take the easy way out? It was harder this way, only because of the changing seasons. Stubborn, the woman headed further northeast, ignoring the changing seasons and the nippy air. She heard of the slew of packs here, and there was noting like Toronto here. That was good; there would be no Visionaries or Ghosts here.
But wherever there were people, there were men, and that meant clientele. All the woman needed was a client base or a devoted man to bring her the things she desired. Yet, she was still worried. Granted, Isabella had uprooted and resettled once already, but could she do it again?
Isabelle adjusted her dark hair, fingers adjusting the locks out of her eyes. The breath before her nose misted up as she steered the mare through a sea of brown weeds. At least she had passed that river already, and there did not seem to be one soon coming.
It had been a mild morning, as far as the weather went. Still, the wind from the North brought snatches of the gnawing frost that would soon envelope the northerner's land. His acidic eyes, a venomous olive in hue, gazed to the peaks of Halycon in the distance - Sirius did not fear the coming winter, but the thought of it was enough to form his black lips into a grim line. There was much to be done before the heavy snows came, and the harsh wilderness of Salsolan soil would be the first to embrace the oncoming chill. The gnarled and dark land had been born of winter's bite, and it would succumb to it willingly once more.
Thus, unlike those who dwelled in the tepid temperatures further South, where it was said that snow only came rarely and did not linger long, those who made their living near the mountains had to be a tough, rangy people. Sirius had made sure, when selecting his pack, that they were such a force - Not easily deterred by the whimsy of a cruel weather. They would survive, as their kin and their ancestors had survived since the dawn of this era, and even before then. Some said that Sirius' very blood ran cold, and that he was born of the temptress of winter. It was not a rumor that the King of Thorns dissuaded.
On this afternoon, he could be found riding, as he had been very often of late. Although at first being mounted without a saddle had riddled his lean body with aches, the monarch had grown swiftly used to it. Using only the weathered black leather reigns, he had mastered control over his horse. She was a splendid creature, fashioned from the light of the moon, and this was why he had chosen her - For much as his sinful temper and wickedness preceded him, it was well known that the King had a weakness for beauty. Tempted by the lovely hues of her pelt, and her graceful step, he had claimed the mare and names her Chairo de Luna; Light of the moon.
They were beyond the borders that marked his Kingdom, and continued to head southwest. He urged the mare to a canter, which she leaped at obediently, silver hooves chiming gracefully on the occasional hard surface. About the monarch's form was his heavy bearhide cloak - A great weight of thick brown fur, that rustled and whispered about him like a pair of dark wings. The only other things to adorn his person was the usual strap of leather, to which was strapped a sheathed hunting dagger and a narrow-necked bottle of some well-aged wine, and lastly, the scars across his heart - Four wicked-looking grooves that ran from his collarbone across his pectoral, where the bear had almost taken him as it's own.
He rode for a short while longer, before tiring of the canter. The world sloped away in an ocean of dead grasses, which the wind parted like graceful waves. He pulled the mare to a snorting halt and dismounted smoothly, those keen predatorial eyes finding a suitably large stone on which to sit. Scaling the boulder, which was not quite as tall as his own rangy height, the monarch hefted his weight onto it, and sat surveying the surrounding lands. Although not tethered, with her black reigns dangling, Luna remained obediently close. Her silver muzzle dropped hopefully to the earth, where she began to crop at the final remnants of green growth.
It wasn't until he had opened the bottle, releasing a poignant aroma of well-aged liquor, that the mare sharply lifted her head. Small, cupped ears flitted south, her dished profile doing likewise. Reading the signs of her flared nostrils and obvious attention, Sirius followed her gaze with his own, pupils narrowed suspiciously. A figure was approaching - Blurred, until the form of a rider on a large horse became more clarified. Could the rider see him, sitting on the rock, or did they assume from such a distance that he and the mare were stone themselves? Dark brows, brooding like an oncoming storm, pulled low over those wickedly simmering eyes. The hand that was not holding the bottle slid to his thigh, and toyed with the dagger there, as he waited for the rider to notice his existence. Would they turn away? Many cowards fled North, expecting kindness and receiving only brutal reality. His black lips twitched in a mirthless smile, and to ensure that he was seen, one hand was lifted into the air and waved, just once. Will you come to me, or will you run?
forgive any discrepancies, I'm still getting used to this pretty little harlot.
Word Count -> 560
The wind pulled at her coarse hair, still shiny from her brushing earlier that day. It flickered around his shoulders, her face into the wind to keep the strands from touching her strange colored eyes. It was a terribly nice day, even though the hybrid could feel the cooling kiss of the northern wind in the thinnest parts of her pelt. Inhaling deeply, Isabella could smell the frost in the air, as though the chill itself could be sensed. It was a cold scent, sharp like the cold would become. She grinned crookedly at the thought, winter being her best season in the past. Men always came crawling for warmth when the snows fell and the sun did not heat the air. Her parlor had always been warm, with a hot fire in the hearth, and her arms open and welcoming.
But there was no parlor here. There was not hearth to stack with logs and set aflame. Isabella had nowhere to go now; her home was behind her and she did not know what awaited her. The mare beneath her snorted as she continued her trot, still not certain about her mistress. Even so, Seductive Deception could read the woman's worries, but the mood was still pleasant. Sure, they had traveled far together already, and the mare was always fed well and before the woman herself ate, but the palomino did not know Isabella well. Her master was missing, though she knew that the man would never reappear, not as far as they had gone. The mare shook her head, jostling the soft, brown leather reins.
Lost in her thoughts, Isabella did not glance toward the figure in the distance. Ducky hesitated beneath her, and she felt the pause in the gait. The woman instantly put a gentle hand on the thick neck, lovingly stroking the mare. But the woman gazed up, bi-colored eyes seeing what the mare's large brown ones had seen already. Calm smile fading, Isabella straightened in her makeshift saddle. It was only a figure in the distance. No, there were two. One was a horse and the other one like herself.
Isabella had no seen anyone, though the scents of strangers had been thick near the river. A pack, she had assumed. So, she had given it a wide berth, not willing to encounter strangers yet. She was not ready. She was not prepared.
Curiosity overwhelmed her. Isabella gave a sigh of annoyance, at herself, and nudged the mare closer to the pair. The scent grew stronger, and it was not one she knew. How could she? She was not from here. But as she got closer, she stiffened, back straight. This figure felt.. male. Still, the hybrid was the loner here, and sweetness would go a long way. Even if it was nothing but a lie.
The mounted woman approached them, and now she could see it was a man and his horse. Her lips twisted into her familiar smile, that easy one that made promises. But the two of them stayed a fair distance away; they could see one another, but the man could not lay his hands on her without rising and moving. "Handsome stranger, where have I come to?" Her tones were honey and her eyes were soft, though her heart was like the oncoming winter; ruthlessly cold.
Finally, she was close enough to see - Finally, the acidic wickedness of his gaze could caress the outline of woman and beast. Woman she was, verily; Curvaceous, a daughter of whatever perfect specimen had been the first, and greatest, female figure. Dark lashes fluttered at him, framing such beautiful bicolored eyes... Her palomino drew to a halt, a safe distance from where the dark hunter perched on his boulder throne. Luminous, predatorial eyes watched her with the hunger of a famished man, neatly concealed behind the facade of a perfect gentleman. That was how Sirius was, perhaps how he had always been - The beast hidden behind the Cheshire grin.
Yellowed teeth glinted at her in such a welcoming smile, now, as fake as the one she offered him in return.
She spoke then, soft melting words and tune so syrupy that it surely caught many fools in its web. Sirius' pupils narrowed. Although he was not in any way unaffected, the monarch knew instantly that he was dealing with a serpent-tongue - It took one to know one. How curious, his smile broadened briefly, a crocodile grin if ever there was one, how very curious... A deep rumbling echoed through his chest, and spilled out of toothy maw in dark caramel laughter. Like a purr, the monarch let his mirth ooze forth, dark lids lowering to half-mast over eyes of poison and venom. "A place much crueler than the one you were made in, dear lady," Came the words from his serpentine tongue. Moving slowly, so as not to alarm her, the King of Thorns dipped his head in polite greeting, before straightening so that hungry eyes could observe her once more. The bottle of wine in his hand sloshed, opposingly merry to the man who took a quick swig from it.
Aware of his own riddled answer, the Revlis man paused a moment before answering again. "You've come north to the mountains of Halycon, to the slumbering den of winter, and to her people within. What, pray tell me, brings a maiden like yourself to such a place?" The wind toyed with her hair, in such an alluring way that made him want to touch it with his own fingers. Her beauty was what saved her from immediate danger - Although not a hasty man, there was a cruel streak that grew within Sirius with very passing day. Her horse made her valuable; Would that he wished it, he may have tried to take her as a slave. However, her appearance dictated something greater, and so he made no move to reach for her yet.
The dark man grinned at her, and the woman only cocked her head at him. She gazed at the stranger through a single eye, taking in his muscled form. The scars were plan on his chest; he was a fighter. That boded ill on many accounts, but he was still an attractive man. Isabella could look past a dangerous man. They were usually the most powerful lovers, with the strength she enjoyed feeling. Such power was enough to make her forget her distrust of men in the moment, and enjoy the services she provided. But that was neither here nor there. It was hard not to think of it though, built as this man was. Isabella had a terribly tough time passing up a handsome face. And her clients had to be attractive enough for her.
It was almost as if the two of them were taking one another in to analyze. Both were clearly players of a dangerous game. However, the situation was terribly difficult for her. Rarely did she encounter someone who was not completely susceptible to her. But she had not tried her best, nor did she feel the need to. His gaze on her was hungry, that much she could tell. Plenty of men had looked at her that way. She was an object in their eyes and that was the way it ought to stay. There was cruel intelligence behind his gaze, though, so the dark woman eyed him warily.
She gave him an admiring smile, noting his own sweetened tones. It was strange on a man such as him, she thought. But she had to give him some credit; it was well done. Her admiration of him ended there though. she eyed him warily enough as he straightened, alcohol in his hand. A man with drink was a risk to everyone, unless he knew how to handle it well.
Isabella adjusted her hair, slowly pulling it out of her face, letting the motion define her breasts to his eager gaze. "You know well you do not see a maiden," she said plainly enough, throwing the man a coy look. The dark hybrid sighed heavily, patting the mare's neck. "Nothing particularly special brings me to this place," she said, attempting a disarming smile. It was a lackluster effort. She could tell the man was more astute than most. "I look for a city."
He could tell by the way she watched him, so sweetly with tilted head and charming smile, that she saw the falseness in him as much as he did in her. They were equal, then - Neither deceived for a moment by the other. A ripple of excitement shivered through his lean muscles; was she a competitor? A challenger? It had been so long since he had been challenged at this game. Sirius was well used to the whiles and trickery of women; He had been well-learned to such things in London, as a younger man. The whores there had been willing to spread their legs for liquor or food, and they had been generous in teaching what they knew. The Revlis man considered himself an excellent lover because of this - But since becoming King, he had been rigid in the control of his own hungers and desires. It had been a form of self-mastery, taunting himself with beautiful women but denying himself the succulent taste of their fruit. It was a sick delight that he had become well accustomed to.
He saw her eyes slide to the bottle in his palm, before lifting quickly back up to his portrait. Black lips twitched mirthfully at the corners. Sirius held his liquor rather well - He had developed a matured taste for red wine, in particular. But that was not to say that the drink wouldn't effect him, for as with any mind, the alcohol would provide a pleasant buzz. He wondered if she knew much of the drink, or of the ways men could become sinners because of it.
Her next words answered such a thing for him. Hungry gaze watched the gentle sweep of her fingers, following obediently to the supple curve of her breast. A whore. He had lain with enough to know the games of one now. Prostitution, the oldest and noblest of jobs... Now his gaze roved ravenously, freely, and saw the details that it had not seen before - The silken clothing, the soft and healthy shine to her fur. It seemed that whatever the lady had been doing before she came to this place, she had been doing it well enough.
As she spoke further, he moved from the boulder, sliding down the rock to stand a short distance from the woman's palomino. Large coyote ears listened intently to the seductive coo of her voice, whilst calculative mind worked hard to keep his reptilian blood cool. Her sensuality sought to heat it, and he felt tendrils of desire already. Hiding such a thing with ease, the man moved with the fluid grace of a panther, his steps slowed so that they would cause the mounted woman no alarm. One hand reached out to pat the silver withers of his own mare, and the bottle was brought to his dark lips for another tug before he spoke. "The nearest town to here is a dead one. It is known as Halifax, and to reach it, you would have to travel south," His gaze lingered on her, fingers reaching up to stroke pensively at the dark tuft of hair on his chin. "That is quite a far way from this place. You must have traveled a long distance already. Are you thirsty?" With black lips quirked up in a grin, he held the wine bottle out to her - If she wished to take it, she would also have to dismount.
He knew what she was, oh yes. That only made her grin in an almost twisted way. He knew what she was and what she offered, but he also knew what her tricks were. Clearly, he had many a good and bad whore in his bed. Well, she was one of the great ones, and if he was able to pay the price, she would show him just why she earned that title. Even if it was almost entirely in her head. She was a lover by trade, and a lover skilled from a long time of practice and repetition - her teacher had been the best by far. Few men could topple him in her eyes in regard to skill. But few would bring down her opinion of men at all, her hatred for them blending with her love of their lower regions. This man looked at her no differently then them, especially when she openly declared that half of her profession.
Sirius's eyes were hungry as they looked upon her form, which she maintained with a constant vigil. She traded many of her trinkets for valuable oils to use on her coarse mane and to keep her pelt shining. Often, they were expensive and she would trade away handfuls of valuables just for a single small bottle. But it was worth it. There would always be more willing to pay for her services, be they sexual or spiritual.
The man rose from his rock, and the woman looked at him, head cocked and hands tightening slightly on her reins. But he answered her question fairly, and she sighed at it. Dead city? That would do her absolutely no good. She needed a place where people were common and would know of her. "What a pity. Thriving ones provide the best accommodations and services." Isabella would have to seek a pack, in that case. Or perhaps an area that saw the most travel of members of these packs. She gave the man an easy laugh, letting her tinkling voice echo slightly in the clearing. "I have traveled far, certainly. But you can't possibly think I'd dismount for something as that, especially without knowing what you want for it." She twitched a foot against the mare's body, making her shift on her feet. The motion was meant to let her body bounce ever so slightly with it, hair bobbing around her face. There was genuine amusement in her eyes. "But perhaps you can tell me what packs are here, then. I seek to settle somewhere."
She seemed to know his tricks, even before they slipped from his tongue - This strange, exotic and gilded beauty, with dark-rimmed eyes and silky fur. A temptress, if Sirius had ever seen one - And he had. He had seen many.
For a moment, he pondered with an air of true arrogance whether she had ever had a King as a patron before. Had she ever known the wealth that only such royalty could bestow? Had she ever known the benefits of being a Concubine? Luscious and in health as the woman was, his own serpentine and cynical nature doubted it. A woman as canny as he believed her to be would never leave such a goldmine in pursuit of humbler wealth, in a cruel land such as this one.
Her easy laughter at his suggestion did not insult the man; Rather, he was pleased with the sharpness of her wit, and allowed this to show in a toothy grin that echoed the sweet seductive melody of her mirth. "You are a smart girl, then - Wise, not to trust even the most handsome stranger, even if he wants for nothing but your lovely company," The succulent caramel tone of his voice curled with humor, with a glossy arrogance that sat on his wicked features rather well. It was difficult to humble Sirius Revlis - Not many had succeeded in such a feat. But his head nodded once to show that her stance was taken note of; He would not attempt to fool her into dismounting again.
Her inquiry was gifted a soft sound of curiosity, as narrowed pupils drank her in thoughtfully. The woman sought a pack to sell her wares? Perhaps she sought knowledge over such a thing. Suspicious by nature, it was a long moment before the King of Thorns answered - As he mulled, his clawed hand moved the bottle in a lazy circle so that the deep ruby liquid within swirled and sloshed like watery blood. "There are many packs in this area," He began, voice rumbling contemplatively as those venomous but thrilling eyes watched the beauty, still, "The best of which would surely depend on your personal tastes, my dear. We come in every flavor here; Some souls kind, foolish, morally good to such a degree that they float upon the land they walk, unsullied by the likes of the common sinner," Here his eyes glinted with the echo of a fervor - Not a hatred, but a disgust, certainly, in those of purity. But his ravenous smile was quick to grow again, sharp yellowed teeth carnivorous and yet not malicious, for they sought this beautiful woman no harm. Again, he spoke, and this time his voice was like the deep surge of the ocean - Riveting, dangerous, "But there are others, yet - A type forged from the cold nights and the mountains and the stone. A crueler bunch, some might infer, but we prefer to think of ourselves as... Practical." Here, his voice oozed into a laugh, and having given her this morsel of information, Sirius took another small swig from the bottle.
He wiped one dark hand over his muzzle, removing the liquid from it, before continuing. "The winter is long this far South, Lady. Long, and cold. Best you find yourself someone to keep you warm, should you intend to stay here," Again he watched her, suspicious but hungry, wondering of her value and of how good she might feel against his hard angles. "I come from a pack not far from here," he paused, for Salsola's secrecy was greater even than his own desire to claim this woman, "If at all such a pack might interest you."
This man had an ego bigger than the city she had fled. Isabella took a note of it, knowing men with big egos often enjoyed compliments and praise, paying out more for her services if she did them well. This one seemed little different, though the air of arrogance around him was stronger than any she had encountered before. Was it an aura of power she felt, too? Regardless, he had his weaknesses, and his strengths. It still made him a dangerous man to tango with, and dancing with him she was. Certainly their limbs did not touch but verbally they were fighting it out for supremacy. And Isabella was determined not to be undermined by some man and his ego. He was a flatterer too. Most women were terribly susceptible to turns of praise, though she had learned long ago to ignore their sugary words and take everything at face value. While making the common cooed responses to keep them amused, of course.
Isabella gave a light smirk at his words, keeping back the scowl of anger at being called a girl. But he was senior to her in age, so she kept her features fixed into that twisted grin and let him believe what he wanted. It wasn't like she was going to give him anything; there was nothing he had she wanted.
The packs in the land were varied, that was good. She could find the one that would house her and let her do her own thing and turn a blind eye. But her heart gave a weak pang at the mention of moral and good. Once, she would have been glad to join them. Yet, that was long over and her heart returned to it's calm rhythmic beating. At times, Isabella admired those fools who could be so innocent and kind. But often, it was tainted with her distaste at their naivety and weakness. They could easily be played by a skilled liar. No, sinners were where the pickings were best.
Practical, he says? She raised a brow, the white disk over her eye rising higher as she looked at him. She assumed he meant his own pack, since he was speaking so highly of it, his tone shifting from distaste to pride. Isabella could tell instantly what he was selling her. Unfortunately, it still sounded appealing, despite knowing what kind of man was speaking of it. And of course he invited her, terribly subtly, to choose him as a client and take off with him to his kingdom. He said nothing about it other than what he had before, but Isabella was slightly interested at the notion. However, she could not choose a single apple without seeing the rest in the bucket.
Isabella gave him one of her easier smiles, though she was sure he knew she had not yet warmed up to him much, despite his attempts and his attractive features. Those were bonus points, especially as he knew she was as onto his tricks as he was to hers. "Perhaps I ought to see more before I return. It's only right to see what else I can find." She wanted to see if the pickings were good elsewhere, and he had to know that. "But where is this pack of yours? What is its name so I may know where I'm heading?"
Sorta wrapped it up, here - You can reply, or just leave it as-is. I am totally keen for another thread, though, if you are! *drools all over Isabella* >> 3+
He was watching her with the facade of laziness, carelessness. It was a mask the King wore well, one of a man so corrupt with his own pride that he had become unwary - But arrogant as he was, this was not a lie to be tested. Although the wine warmed his belly and pleasantly soothed the mechanical chaos of his mind, Sirius was, and would surely be till the day of his death, a Hunter - A creature crafted from the shadows of wickedness, canny and sly and deadly in this way. Such casual posture was allowed only because he could sense a similar wariness within the woman as within few others - She, unlike the majority of those who met him, seemed to be unafraid. But his quick eyes knew the Fae to be an intelligent creature, and he knew that even as he watched her, she was watching him; Playing a similar game of lies and falseness.
What was she like, beneath the layers of her own defense? This sultry seductress with the dark-rimmed eyes and the sweetly, fragrantly curved body - A sumptuous feast for any hot-blooded man - could have hidden any creature beneath her surface. Was she merely a girl, young and small and afraid? Perhaps she was more dark than that, stained by the colors of her trade. She stirred the hunger of his curiosity, and the King of Thorns had indeed found himself craving such amusement of late. He could not satisfy the cravings of his body with the Lykoi maiden, Clover - Her purity could, at times, drive his hidden lust to madness. The beast within was far too chained, far too clothed with slick gentility, to allow himself to stoop to the desperation of rape. Although guilty of many crimes, this one served only to be distasteful to the Northern monarch. Women were a sport, a game, an endless banquette for the skilled Hunter. To take them by force was to forfeit, to prove a man incapable of winning by the skills he had alone.
For this reason - and for the fact that a lifetime spent acting like the most sincere of Lords, the most civil of gents, had indeed sculpted Sirius to genuinely become one - He did not hassle her further. It seemed the lady of the night was wanting to be on her way, and he would not hinder her unkindly, or rudely. Her dismissal was light, and although it stung slightly on the shield of his pride, Sirius merely offered her a gracious tip of his stately head in understanding. Dark tangles of hair spilled over brooding eyes, which never deviated from her beautiful portrait. "If you feel you must, then so be it - May the skeleton of Halifax welcome you with whatever warmth it hoards," Moving to Luna's withers, he patted the silvery mare once before deftly mounting. He settled lightly to her back, pausing a moment to still the mare before speaking again. Acidic gaze drifted from the wine bottle, still held loosely in one wickedly clawed hand, to the strange woman once more. "If you tire of your travels, and of the cold nights, then head North to where the river spills down from the mountains. That is the border of Salsola, the Thistle Kingdom," The mare tossed her head, and he turned her in a sharp circle, till she faced the palomino and her rider. Dropping the black reigns, he took an exaggerated bow, flourishing with one empty palm and sloshing the bottle of wine merrily in the other. A devilishly charming grin curved about his black lips, quirking them up at the corners. "And, if you should come to the river and to the land of thorns, ask for Sirius Revlis. I think, then, that you shall find whomever you meet to be... Rather accommodating." His caramel voice was thick with riddles, with teases and the husky tone of lust.
Even as his words rang like a curse from a crueler pair of lips, the woman kept her pleasant smile, taunting and teasing him so. Her eyes were half lidded as she looked at him sidelong. He promised her skeletons and he promised her nothing to but death to be found. The Mother did not say anything to her, no enlightenment came. She would need to find this out on her own, to discover if the mottle man was speaking the truth to her or if his lucid tones were naught but attempts to get her to accept his bed. She was hardly so easily won, especially with little to be had if she accepted. She did not know who this man was and what he could offer her, and her appetites as well. Isabella could accept an exceptional night as fair payment. But those were rare days and there were too many between to make it expected.
Salsola. It had a ring to it, something unfamiliar yet something she felt she had heard at one point or another. Doubtful. She eyed him carefully, her expression shield as his tone was full of praise for the kingdom. Clearly, he cared for it greatly, and it made her wonder what his stake in its success was. Was he a higher ranked member? Entirely possible, if his arrogant attitude was anything to take into consideration. However, she had to admit that she did ever so slightly panegyrize his knowledge of her tricks. It was memorable, and it made him stand out in her mind. Despite that, he was still man to watch carefully. She felt that there were serpent's teeth buried beneath that charmer's smile he gave. Isabella would not fall for his gazes, but because she did not dance to his tune, she would beware his venomous sting.
Her mild tinkling laugh cut through the air, as she found herself terribly amused by his name and his claim. Accommodating? She would have to remember that when she decided where to go next. At least now she could know what name to call this charming man with his secrets hiding under that skin. Was it buried just above those well defined muscles or were they buried so deep that the only hint to them was the glint in his fierce gaze? It was a challenge, and it pleased her to play a game with an opponent worthy of her and her talents. There was nary a modest bone in her curvy, sultry body. "Well then, monsieur, I hope that to see you in your land of thorns and thistles soon." Her reply had come moments after her laugh, and she gazed at the handsomely built man mounted on his horse. A cutting figure he did cut. "Perhaps Isabella will come calling for an accommodating man." She let the mare prance, bouncing her slightly as the woman nudged the Clydesdale eastward. Isabella blew the man an easy kiss, letting her hand gracefully rise and fall back to the reins. Perhaps she would be back to pay the stranger a visit.
