Friday, September 21, 2012
Sweet Saturday Sample: "You may call me Miss Aimee, sir."
What would it have been like to attend this party in the year 1860? Would the threat of war have lent a spice of excitement to the festivities that made ordinary activities like visiting the gazebo seem new and romantic?
Cade indicated a built-in bench which circled the gazebo. “Would you like to sit down?”
Aimee sat and gathered her skirts around her, admiring the rustle of her long, taffeta petticoat. She patted the space beside her. “Sit beside me.”
Cade bowed. “You honor me, Miss Sherwood.”
“You may call me Miss Aimee, sir.”
“Miss Aimee, then.” He raised her hand to his lip and kissed it.
Aimee’s heart took off in a mad gallop. She felt heat rising from her chest and knew it colored her face an inconvenient shade of red. OH. MY. GOODNESS! All he’d done was kiss her hand, and she was just melting. If only she had a fan like Miss Minnie.
Cade kept hold of her hand even though she’d expected him to let go of it. His calloused fingers felt so male, so strong, so manly that another wave of heat washed over her.
“You look beautiful tonight, Miss Aimee. There’s not a woman at the party who can touch you.”
Was it her imagination or had he moved a bit closer to her?
“Your eyes sparkle like blue diamonds, and I love those curls of yours. You’ve captured the sunshine.” He bounced her curls in the palm of his hand.
Breathe. She musn’t forget to breathe.
He had moved closer. She could smell the spicy odor of his shaving cream now.