A breath caught in his throat, and he felt his mind reeling.
The feather, the song, and the very appearance of her....
Raking a hand through his hair, he threw off the covers and got to his feet. Wasting no time, he stormed off to his study, where he was hoping to get some reprieve, but even as he paced through the walk ways between the endless book cases that lined the place, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and of the primal lust it stirred within him, and other primal factors of fear, fear of the unknown, and consequences...
Consequences for wanting something he should not have. But he hadn't bedded his wife in how long? And though he had taken many maids to bed with him, that had more or less stopped when he had taken a wife.
But now? Now he wanted the woman in his dream like a fever. He raised a fist to his lips.
But why? It was just a dream....
And he knew not that woman, nor this new maid in his room.
Perhaps he needed a cold shower, because his body was flushed and his mind, whirling around but one thought.