Sing Me Home by Lisa Ann Verge Read Free Book Online

countered, “it grows smooth and hard and well-polished.”
    “And thin and short. And like all old spindles,” she said, flinging her hand in the air, “it’s best tossed out for a new one.”
    In the laughter that ensued, Maura turned her back to him, intending to escape, but his fingers curled around her arm again and he brought her up short. The next thing she knew, he’d swung her into his arms, thrust her hips against his, and forced her head back so she had no choice but to stare up at his face, inches from hers.
    There, it was happening again—that strange sliding feeling deep in her belly, as if the world was slipping away beneath her. The laughter of the crowd faded to a rumbling in the distance. The sun shone bright on his head, sheening his black hair—more like a halo than the horns he deserved. And she couldn’t help staring at that face, at those smiling lips with the sharp, white scar that cut across the lower edge, glowing white now with how wide he was grinning. She watched that grin while they breathed in the same air, and she once again smelled that exotic and unfamiliar fragrance—oranges, cardamom—the one that made the back of her knees soften.
    He’s going to kiss me.
    She waited for it to happen, staring into those intense blue eyes, and for a moment she felt like she was a child at Christmastide, aching for the moment the feast wound down so the waferer would come out to disperse his honey-dipped sweets that melted in one’s mouth. But when his lips finally descended, he didn’t aim for her own swollen, waiting lips. His mouth fell upon her earlobe instead.
    Once there, he sucked it in.
    Had lightning flashed down from the sky, she doubted it could thrust more rippling exhilaration through her than the feel of his hot mouth upon her ear. She clawed her fingers into his tunic as his tongue rolled rough and he drew in more. Seized by spasms of sensation, she didn’t realize that Nutmeg had clambered out of his basket until she felt the bite of his tiny paws on her shoulder.
    “Nutmeg,” she mumbled. “Nutmeg!”
    Colin pulled back. The crowd barked in surprise. Nutmeg squealed at the noise. With a chirr and a flurry of whiskers, the squirrel ripped threads down her back as he lunged for the paving stones. Frozen by his hard landing, he twitched his whiskers, and then tore through the legs of the scattering onlookers to some distant, quieter place.
    “By God’s Nails, woman,” Colin said in a booming voice, “what sort of rats have you been lying with?”
    The laughter was deafening. But she couldn’t speak—she could barely think—so she focused on Nutmeg, her terrified pet heading off to places unknown. Tearing away from Colin, Maura scanned the square. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a furry blur dart into an alleyway. She headed after Nutmeg while slapping her ear, trying to rub away the tingling sensation Colin caused in more hollows than her ear.
    He was only play-acting, she told herself, as she raced mindlessly after Nutmeg. She was a fool to think his kiss meant anything more than that.
    Far down the alleyway, she glimpsed a gray tail hanging from the thatch of a roof. “Nutmeg?”
    The squirrel poked a black nose over the edge, chirring down at her.
    “Come, Nutmeg.” She riffled in her pocket where a few spring seeds remained from the squirrel’s hurried breakfast. “You’ll find few enough trees here, and most of them already occupied.”
    The squirrel sniffed the air, then shot away when a woman threw open shutters just beneath his perch. Maura saw him leap onto the next roof. She followed him, house to house, trying to entice her pet down.
    “He’ll come down sooner or later.”
    She turned to see Colin striding down an alleyway in pursuit, squinting up at the squirrel cowering in the thatch.
    “You!” She couldn’t look at those blue eyes, still ashamed at her body’s reaction to the touch of his tongue. “You scared Nutmeg near to death with