Colemenoport
Wayfarer
Shan was doing up his shirt.
It was quite late in Colemeno’s morning. He and Priscilla had dawdled in their robes over a positively decadent breakfast, rising at last, and reluctantly, to face what remained of the day.
“We ought,” he said, finishing with the last seal, and shaking out his sleeves, “do this again.”
“Now?” Priscilla asked, her voice sultry.
He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.
“There are various commitments already in train,” he observed. “I suppose we might try now. Only, we’ve just gone to all the bother of getting dressed . . . ”
“You make a compelling case,” Priscilla said, solemnly. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”
“Every night for the rest of my life,” he told her.
She stepped forward into his embrace, and leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling his arms tighten around her.
“Well.”
Shan stepped back, reluctantly. Priscilla shook her hair into order, and reached out to straighten his collar.
“Thank you, Priscilla. It would not have done for me to attend my first meeting on the day looking in the least disordered.”
“Who’s your first meeting?” she asked, moving to the door just ahead of him.
“Why, Lady Selph, of course. I daresay she’s recovered sufficiently from her journey to give me a very severe talking to, indeed.”
Priscilla laughed, and opened the door.