She'd always loved firelight. Whether from a blazing hearth, or a solitary, flickering candle, the golden dance of light across the plush coverlets, the various angles and curves of bare skin, never failed to be mesmerizing. This particular evening was no different, save for one, small factor that she strove to push from her thoughts.
The man was young. Splayed across the bed, face-down, with his head turned towards her, he was an endearing sight to behold. A tumble of dark waves caressed his cheeks, hovering just at the corner of his parted lips while he slept. He was far too young to be suffering such agony. Too young to savor such a broken heart. The tea had helped calm him, and she had sat close by and talked with him until sleep drifted gently by, carrying him on its tender current. The firelight loved his youthful features. It reflected in his ebon locks like tiny streaks of liquid gold, and cast sublime shadows around his bow-shaped lips. In the soft, yellow light, he appeared peaceful and free of hurt.
She was reminded of another man with dark curls and a beautiful visage. Not so young, perhaps, but still strong, vibrant, and virile. A man, for all appearances, in his prime. Yet he, too, had come to her with a crumbled heart. A soul wracked with unspeakable regret and indecision. And amid the flickering shadows and sweetly-scented air, he had bared his soul as well as his body, and sought escape, comfort, and acceptance. And she had given all three.
A trace of a smile lingered now on her plump, rosy lips. The thought to seek him out had risen in her mind more than once in the months since his visit. She had not, however, gone in search of him, nor would she. Yet the memories remained, as sweet as the lingering taste of honey after the dripping comb. She would never know if he had found his peace, his happiness, his wholeness. Doubtless, he never thought about the nights spent in the tucked-away cottage, with a woman of no consequence.
The man on the bed stirred. His strong hands flexed, and his smooth brow furrowed with some unpleasant dream that sought to bring him unrest. A pale, soft hand reached over to smooth away the frown on his forehead, while her voice murmured quiet words of comfort and rest.
