sst,” said a perfectly trimmed laurel bush beside the low sweep of the stairs. Armand somehow managed to keep his cool, annoyed that he had let his guard down and not detected whoever was lurking there. Of course, it was still very early in the morning, the sun was barely over the hill. Delicate purple and lavender shadows lay over the tidy flower beds.

He had not encountered anyone on his way from the common room where Brigit’s family and friends carpeted the floor and shook the rafters with drunken snores.

“What?” he asked.

“Armee, it’s me,” Brigit hissed.

“Oh.”

The womenfolk had gone to their own chambers after the dancing was over the night before. Left with the other unmarried men in the common room, Armand had bedded down on the floor among them. He despaired that he would ever have time alone with her. There was just too much work to do back at the village and her parents and her horde of relatives kept them under constant watch. It was ridiculous of course. Prior to agreeing to stay with her family they had enjoyed a surfeit of time together to do as they wished.

Brigit unfolded from her hiding place, a mischievous smile on her freckled face. She looked insanely pleased with herself for sneaking up on him and he chuckled, drawing her against him with an outstretched arm as they stood at the base of the steps. No words could capture how he adored her. They kissed until the two of them were breathless and his body burned for her. Gods, he would go insane if he were parted from her another moment.

“Remember our special place by the shore?” she murmured in his ear, nibbling his jaw playfully. He nodded, unable to speak he was so overcome with desire. She took his hand and he bounded after her, the two of them giggling like naughty children as they trotted across the empty yard and headed toward the dock. The sun blazed upon the quiet sea and the air was heavy with the musky odor of low tide. Seabirds lamented and wheeled silently over them as they scurried down the hill like otters and dashed into a thick screen of brush that overlooked a pale crescent of shoreline.

There on the sand they hastily disrobed, knowing they had little time and might not have this opportunity again for many weeks. His hands trembled as he stroked her fiery hair and laid a tracery of kisses over her throat and the glory of her breasts. She whispered his name, begging him, her longing melding with his own.

“What was that?” she murmured, gasping for breath as he fumbled with his trousers. Armand sighed, realizing her attention was divided now, her mind riddled with anxiety, “It sounds like Pen.”

“He’s fine,” Armand groaned, silently pleading with her to ignore all else. Now he heard the ruckus as well. There was a man’s voice raised in fear and anger shouting profanities at someone. The fire of passion died as two figures went storming by barely two steps away from their hiding place.

“Good gods, whatever did Zhou do to upset him that much?” Brigit murmured, watching Master Bei’s grim figure marching after his furiously cursing apprentice. Pendaran’s mad swearing and carrying on succeeded in spoiling the perfectly beautiful morning and their favorite beach.

Armand had to admit that he honestly did not give a flying yak’s rump. Master Bei was a plague upon his existence, the fun-killer extraordinaire. Maybe his apprentice was finally coming around.

“Why should I care,” he grumbled making an attempt to draw her back down for a kiss.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Army. Poor Pen. He’s suffered so much.”

Armand rolled his eyes and lurched to his feet.

“Fine.”

Brigit turned a mild shade of crimson that signaled he was about to be dashed upon the rocks if he did not make a hasty course correction.

“Yeah, poor guy,” he muttered, “C’mon, let’s go find another spot and leave them to their misery.”

The fact that her brows did not turn down suggested he had managed to avoid her ire. It annoyed him that she felt any obligation to a man he hardly knew. Her friendship with Pendaran pre-dated his arrival into Brigit’s life and that troubled Armand whenever it crossed his mind. Sometimes he wondered if there were something deeper. He knew it was stupid to fear a recently widowed man but he could not help himself. Armand knew from personal experience how loneliness and grief created insufferable longing.

“Maybe on the other side of Melandru’s shrine,” Brigit whispered, “Should be quiet near there and I don’t suppose the goddess will mind.”

He nodded but did not feel very hopeful. He could smell the acrid taint of a cooking fire. People were beginning to wake up. Soon there would be breakfast and more revelry. Brigit was expected to be chaste and proper until the two of them were married. If they showed up late and in disarray, Armand had a fair idea how Anluan Gaenor would react.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he sighed, noting her relief. A genuine feeling of sadness and despair blossomed within him. Brigit hugged him gently and graced his cheek with a chaste kiss. Her eyes wandered to the small crescent of beach where Zhou was currently holding Pendaran under the water. It sickened him and he felt like a voyeur.

“Come,” she murmured, clearly disturbed but unwilling to intervene. He followed her back up the hill, their hands clasped but all passion extinguished.

“I hate this,” he murmured.

“You could marry me, you know,” Brigit said bitterly.

“Anluan won’t let me,” Armand replied darkly.

“Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“I think he’d permit it. He’s just waiting for you to ask properly.”

“Can’t we elope and live somewhere less dirty?”

Brigit chuckled and grasped his rump. His poor body reacted with a maddening surge of lust while his mind grew more grim. There was a long dark winter ahead in the hinterlands of the northern Shiverpeaks. They would be parted once more, he in his hovel with miserable Mog and she in her parents’ house. At least anything resembling mud and muck would be frozen solid.

“Ask him, please?” she pleaded, “Do you really want to spend winter all alone in your own bed? Don’t you want me to keep you warm?”

“Brigit…”

“It’s what I want for Wintersday,” she said with a mischievous grin.