An Old Fashioned Romance

From The Highwayman of Tanglewood by Marcia Lynn McClure

“Yes,” Faris managed to breathe. Her chest rose and fell rapidly with her quickened breathing. His touch held some sort of bewitchment—an enchanting spell, and she desired nothing ever in the world but to revel in it forever.

“Tomorrow night, then, lass,” he said as his hands slid from her face coming to rest on her shoulders. “At twilight—when the purple shades of night meet the purple heather. There I’ll meet ye—and perhaps steal yar heart away.”

Faris gasped, trembled as he leaned forward, kissing her neck. His breath was warm and tickled her ear.  She felt his strong hands move to her head, his fingers slipping into the softness of her hair.  In the next moment, Faris was swept away to bliss by the sense of his mustache on her neck.  He was toying with her—allowing his lips to hover a mere breath from her flesh.

“A rogue I may be,” he began, “but me promise is sure, and I will have me kiss this night.”

His lips gently pressed to hers.  The kiss was soft, measured, yet it filled Faris’ bosom with such breathless rapture she sensed her limbs going numb.

“Still, a rogue I am, fair Faris,” he whispered as his lips lingered a breath from her own.  “And no gentleman’s kiss ever satisfied any rogue.”

Faris gasped as the Highwayman of Tanglewood gathered her into his arms and against the strength of his powerful body.  Instantly his mouth captured hers, his arms binding her securely to him as he administered a kiss of such driven demand as to nearly render her unconscious.  Faris heard herself sigh, felt her body surrender and weaken against his as he kissed her.  Never had she known such euphoria!  To be held by such a man, kissed by the same—it was magnificent!  Yet, in the next moment, he ended their kiss all too abruptly, and she gasped for breath.

The highwayman released her, drawing away quickly and pulling his hood over his head.  Faris watched, entirely bemused, as he mounted his steed.  Her body still trembled from his touch—her lips still sensed his kiss.

“I must away,” he said.  His black steed was anxious.  No doubt the animal was unfamiliar with any sort of lingering.  “’Til twilight tomorrow, fair Faris,” he called.  “Where the heather runs forever.  I will meet ye there that our adventure together may continue!”

He was gone then—galloping into the forest astride his mount, cape rippling in the breeze as he rode.

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