“Oh honestly, Sareen!” Mahrree murmured in exasperation. “Where’s your cloak?”
Despite the chill in the air, Sareen seemed determined to show Shem exactly what she had to offer. Not surprisingly, several soldiers had converged around Shem to share in the view.
“Oh Sareen, this is just becoming sad,” Mahrree muttered, wishing someone would point out to the girl—maybe Sareen’s mother, who didn’t seem to be around—that her displaying behavior was most inappropriate. Mahrree was about to march over there herself when . . .
Shem was remarkable, Mahrree realized. While he appeared so young, he possessed a maturity and strength far beyond his age. His gaze had never wavered from Sareen’s face, Mahrree noted, even though only inches below it was a sight to make any infant thirsty and any man forget how to blink. It seemed, from Mahrree’s angle, that he wasn’t even looking at her eyes, but likely her forehead. And while Sareen displayed nearly all her full and heaving wares before him, he wasn’t shopping.
Instead he was suddenly taken with a fit of coughing that sounded to Mahrree a bit contrived, but most convenient. He even fell off his little chair as he doubled over to control his convulsing.
A moment later someone rushed a flask of water to him, which he readily accepted.
Another moment later the coughing fit ceased, Shem stood up, and immediately began a conversation with his rescuer, Mrs. Reed, who had also brought him a box of her cookies.
Sareen, forgotten and still kneeling in front of the wobbly chair, grumpily stood up and stormed away.
Two dozen soldiers followed closely after her. They were shopping, and were not interested in her forehead.
“Well done, Shem Zenos,” Mahrree smiled in approval.
To her surprise, Shem looked deliberately in her direction, as if he heard her. But she knew the distance was too great. He nodded once at her before beginning a conversation with another older, safer villager.
Sareen, now with her own little audience, spoke loudly about something silly, Mahrree was sure, likely hoping Shem would notice and become jealous. For the moment, Sareen was happy for the attention that, someday, she’d realize she didn’t really want.
Mahrree understood Sareen, she hated to admit to herself. She’d come to a difficult realization some time ago: if there had never been a Perrin Shin, and had the age gap been a bit smaller, she too would have hoped for the attention of Shem Zenos. Maybe it was his presence, and his sweetness, and his boyish handsomeness, and his impressive build—
But for Mahrree, there was a Perrin Shin, and he’d absolutely spoiled her for any other man, thank the Creator. While she saw the appeal of Shem—gentle and even adorable—she found more alluring the raw power of Perrin, the massive guard dog. She realized that occasionally she may find other men attractive, but she’d always remember that her own husband was far superior.
Mahrree chuckled softly as that husband teasingly commanded Corporal Zenos to sit back down. His head was now higher than Perrin’s, and that wasn’t appropriate, he announced loudly.
Shem crouched obligingly, to the laughter of the villagers, but Perrin shook his head slowly, pointed to the little chair, then raised a menacing eyebrow.
More laughter.
Shem slunk dejectedly to the demeaning seat, sat down with a loud sigh of resignation, and blinked sadly at the cluster of little boys—Poe Hili among them—that now stood in front of him as his new adoring fan club.
The crowd cheered loudly, and Perrin threw another red cloth at Shem, covering his head completely.
Mahrree laughed out loud, caught her husband’s eye, and winked.
He winked back and raised his eyebrows briefly in suggestion. He had an idea for an argument that night.
She shook her head and chuckled.
Oh, those women might ogle him with eyes too full of their own desire—and it was a good thing he hadn’t run in only his shorts, Mahrree decided, because seeing his calves and thighs would have sent some of those women into such fits of swooning that their husbands would have had no choice but to preserve their honor by challenging the major, which would have sent him into fits of laughter—but that afternoon Major Perrin Shin would be going home with her.
And tonight, she’d help him undress, probably help him bathe, get that magnificent man into bed . . . and then listen to him whimper and complain about his aching muscles all night long.
Chapter 19 ~ “A little over-excited about towers and flags, are we?”
“Lieutenant!” Corporal Zenos said, grinning widely. He sat down across the table from Walickiah, grimacing in pain, just as the lieutenant was finishing his dinner in the mess hall. “I didn’t get to thank you yet for your assistance today, nor apologize about jabbing you in the ribs.”