“A wise way to approach the matter,” she agreed.
About to say more, she realized Aradin’s gaze had drifted downward again. Down to the hemline of her night tunic. There were several responses to that gaze she could make. Had it been Daranen, she’d have muttered something about needing to get dressed and would have retreated. Had it been Deacon Shanno . . . No, never. No way is that little twit ever getting a look at my legs, she knew. But Aradin . . . and Teral? She had to include the older Witch, even if she couldn’t see him. But mostly it was Aradin she could see studying her with those hazel eyes framed by those dark blond lashes. Aradin, whose masculine interest and appreciation warmed her self-confidence as a woman.
So she settled for a simple, pointed, and flirtation-laced, “See anything you like?”
Aradin flicked his gaze up to her face. “From this angle, yes,” he admitted, giving her a slow smile. “But I’ll need to see your legs from several other positions, too, to be absolutely sure.”
Tipping her head back, she laughed. She hadn’t even been awake a fraction of an hour yet, and already she had ridden a wild ride of emotions. From being annoyed at how she was awakened, to unhappy with Nannan’s attitude, from feeling stern about seeing the insults stopped, to flattered amusement . . . the lattermost feeling was a definite improvement on her morning. She felt him lean close and lowered her chin in time to receive a kiss on her cheek . . . and an arm slipped around her waist.
Warm and male, fully dressed for the day, Aradin cuddled her close. It felt remarkably good to be cuddled in his arms, up against his side. Natural, in fact. Saleria gave in to the urge to snuggle close, enjoying the intimacy of his embrace.
“You are far too appealing like this,” he murmured after several seconds. He kissed her brow and sighed. “Unfortunately, we have far too much work to do to dally in the mornings. You with your morning clearing rounds, I with my scanning wands, needing to take readings from all the plants and the wickerwork of the Bower. But one of these evenings, milady, I’m going to want to see your legs again, from several different angles . . . and quite possibly the rest of you, if you’ll agree.”
She sighed, reluctant to admit he was right, but knowing she needed to admit it. “Mornings are definitely out . . . but you’re right. Evenings are a possibility.”
He gave her a last squeeze and started to pull away, which meant the kiss she aimed for his lips ended up on his chin instead. He stilled for a moment, lips curving in a slow, surprised, but warm smile. Giving her shoulders a little squeeze, he let her go. “I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”
Nodding, Saleria stepped back fully into her bedchamber and closed the door. Normally, she breakfasted in a lounging robe, but today she would get dressed first. Not because she felt the need to be fully clothed, but as a concession to Nannan’s sense of propriety. In Katan, men and women could couple without stigma if they were responsible about contraceptive amulets and such, but not in the streets, and not at the table.
Contraceptive amulets. Bollocks, she thought, wincing. I’ll need to get an amulet, won’t I? Because if I’m completely honest with myself . . . that comment about him wanting to see me and my legs in many other positions was rather appealing. As well as amusing.
With a grin at that thought, she moved toward the dressing closet to find a fresh Keeper’s uniform to don. It was rather nice being thought of as an attractive woman, and not just a priestess.
* * *
“Holy Saleria, at the Healer’s?” Deacon Shanno called out. Wincing, Saleria turned to find the thin, blond priest clutching a hand over his chest. “I hope it’s nothing serious!”
She finished shutting the door to the Groveham Healer-mage’s shop and composed a quick, quelling reply. “It isn’t serious, and even if it were, it wouldn’t be your business. God and Goddess bless you for your kindnesses and courtesies, Deacon Shanno.”
Saleria meant it as a parting comment, but he didn’t let it end there. Instead, the young priest turned to join her as she strode down the street. “On the contrary: The health and well-being of the Grove Keeper is the business of every man and woman in Groveham. Why, without you, who would we turn to in the advent of another perambulating peony attack, hmm?”
I’ll lay odds he’s just trying to suggest himself as a backup for that, she told herself. Out loud, she merely said, “Groveham will be fine. Shouldn’t you be preparing for midday prayers?”
“Oh, I have time,” the young man dismissed, flicking a hand. His mouth curved in a smug little smile. “Actually, I’ve just heard the juiciest news from the High Temple itself this morning.”