Their eyes met over the dying glow of the campfire. She looked away, suddenly bashful under the force of that gaze.
Shahari was unaccustomed to such boldness; the young man she had become betrothed to, back home on her eighteenth birthday, was all propriety. He had never even so much as stolen a quick kiss, and she had never felt the urge to take their relationship beyond the strict boundaries imposed upon them by society's mores. But since the sorcerer Brevash had cast his spell that had swept them all out of the timeline and into this forsaken dimension, something strange had been happening to her.
She could, perhaps, have blamed Serila. The older girl's free and easy approach to relations with men – and even with women, so she claimed – had at first shocked and repulsed her. But just as strongly felt was her curiosity, and certain details of these lurid stories refused to leave her mind. As Ilias had dropped his facade of reserve and derision towards her, if not quite towards the others, she had found herself wondering what it would feel like to experience some of what Serila had described for herself. No, it was not entirely Serila's doing; the truth was that she found Ilias attractive, and had no idea what to do about those feelings.
Tenesh, Ilias' father, stretched and yawned loudly. "I concede," he announced. "Sleep is what's needed. Goodnight!"
He retreated into the cave, and Serila immediately announced that she too was feeling tired, and followed behind him. Shahari had awoken a couple of nights in a row now to muffled sounds coming from outside, and had noticed in the little light afforded by the fire's embers that Tenesh and Serila were not in the cave. She wondered if they were...but surely not; Tenesh was forty-eight and Serila only twenty-seven!
She found that she was looking at Ilias again, but by this time he was lying on his back and staring moodily up into the night sky. His bare arms were folded behind his head and the delineation of his muscles was plain to see. His sleeveless tunic had come open slightly and she could just about make out the slight hairiness of his chest beneath. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, what his skin felt like. Was it as smooth as hers, or were men rougher to the touch?
Her cheeks grew hot with shame at her interest in his body. She had been told any number of times, by her mother especially, that sexual desire was unbecoming in a lady; a well-bred girl was expected to comply with her husband's wishes in this regard, but not to 'hanker after the act like a common whore'. And besides, she was promised to someone else. The contradiction between her body's will and her upbringing confused her beyond measure. The sooner they could find a way back to the timeline, the better.
"What do you contemplate so deeply, my lady?"
His voice still held that slight mocking edge which both angered and intrigued her. Although he had let his guard down more and more these past few – well, months, for want of a better word in this timeless world – he was still careful to maintain some of the image he had built up of himself.
"We are both the children of nobles," she said a little stiffly. "There is no need to address me so."
He chuckled, stretching his arms upwards as though trying to reach the sky and then folding his hands across his chest. His vivid green eyes seemed to challenge her in some way. She bit her lip, but refused to break eye contact this time. He thought her a silly little innocent, she knew – sheltered and cosseted by her doting parents with little to no experience of the world outside her home. He, on the other hand, was five years older than her at twenty-four and had seen at least some of life's richness during his time as a soldier cadet. She envied him this, and yet longed to prove that she was not quite as naive as he thought her – even though his estimation of her was quite accurate.
Little did she know that Ilias, rather than confronting her with his look, was merely staring at her in admiration. He had never met a girl like Shahari before. Her gentleness of manner was genuine, rather than an act put on as it was with so many girls of their class. She had, against all his attempts to keep her at a distance, befriended him when the others in the group, his own father included, had decided to leave him to his haughtiness. He resented his father's disappointment in him for not being a great and gifted mage, like himself and so many of the previous generations of the Breck family, and had long ago vowed that would not give anyone else a chance to look down on him so. And yet Shahari didn't; she seemed to accept him for himself in a way that not even his fellow cadets could.
All this, he reflected, was quite aside from the plain fact that she was stunningly beautiful. Her frame was slender, and yet the gentle swell of firm breasts and rounded hips were still evident even under her modest clothing. Her face was delicate, with large brown eyes and a sensuous mouth that he longed beyond words to kiss. For so many nights now, he had lain in that cave merely feet away from this vision of perfection breathing serenely in her sleep, and lusted for her. Once, a few nights ago, he had plucked up the courage to creep over to where she lay and ever so gently stroke her long auburn hair. She had stirred slightly and given a little sigh that stirred his loins more than any sound ever had, and he had gone back to his sleeping spot and rubbed himself sore thinking about it.
"Why do you laugh?" she asked, her pretty face creased into a frown of puzzlement.
"Why, only because you amuse me when you put me in my place."
"You tease me, sir."
Oh, how I wish, he thought. "I thought such niceties were unnecessary between equals such as us," he rejoined.
She opened her mouth as if to rebuke him, but suddenly her countenance relaxed as she laughed. "You are right. Ilias, forgive me. This place frays my nerves and my patience, and it makes me out of sorts with everyone."
"I understand. I too begin to tire of it. Only one thing in it brings me any pleasure."
Her heart jolted in her chest at these words. Even for someone as green as she, the meaning behind these words when combined with that intense look was plain to see.
"Ilias..." she faltered.
"You have changed me," he went on. "Before we met I had thought all people judged each other on their outward achievements only, and yet you care nothing for any of that. I had thought all women to be either shameless wantons or out to trap a man's wealth and freedom. And yet you display none of these qualities, and have so many virtues that I had thought impossible to find in any female."
Tears sprang to her eyes at his words. If he only knew...She was, in her longing for his proximity to her person, as brazen as any conquest he'd ever made. All that separated her from them was lack of experience.
