Oct. 27th, 2016
A small taste of, The Beekeeper’s Daughter, — a tale of passion, corruption, and dark secrets.
Annabel climbed onto one of the larger stone clappers. She lay down and stretched her body luxuriously like a cat, before fanning her long hair out in all directions, hoping the dappled sunlight might dry it quicker. She had long since discarded her cotton dress on a nearby rock and only her wet chemise, which had become almost transparent, covered her nakedness. Jevan wore no clothes. He pulled himself out of the water and sat close beside her. Even though Annabel’s lids remained closed, she could feel the heat of his gaze over her skin. She smiled and opened her eyes.
He leaned closer. His hair dripped cold water onto her body that sent tiny shocks through her nerves. His hand absently stroked her arm for a few moments, and he moved it low onto her stomach. He bent his head close and brushed his lips lightly across hers. It seemed like the most natural thing, and she did not put up any resistance. Her heartbeat increased and a warmth seemed to radiate from inside. Their lips touched again, and Annabel closed her eyes.
They listened to the sound of the river as it flowed sedately beneath them. Jevan’s hand caressed lower, and with that intimate touch, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. She moved her head fractionally and their lips parted. Jevan was watching her with an expression she had never seen before. She stroked his shoulder, and her hand traveled slowly down his back seemingly of its own accord. He was breathing more rapidly. His skin was soft and yet the tone of the muscle was hard and addictive to her touch. Hypnotized by his gaze and unwavering caress, she no longer felt in control of her own body.
A sudden screech overhead made her jump. They both looked up. The raven flew low through the tree branches, and the spell was broken.
Jane Jordan 