As soon as he entered the restaurant, her beauty hit him like a blow to his solar plexus.
She was breathtaking with her raven hair and eyes as green as emeralds!
Who could help but notice her?
Question was – why was she sitting at the table by herself? Such an exquisite creature should have been surrounded by doting admirers.
But here she was. Alone. Inviting. In need of being rescued from boredom.
What else could Jamison do but to come to her aid?
There were several empty tables in the restaurant, but none of them interested him as this particular table.
Never being the bashful sort, he boldly approached her and asked if the seat next to her was taken. After all, she could have been waiting for some gentleman friend to join her.
She lazily looked him up and down with those sparkling green eyes, and then as if he met with her approval, she indicated the chair and motioned for him to sit.
As he did so, he suavely introduced himself as, “Jamison, Jamison Thincastle.”
She flashed him a brilliant smile that lit up her whole being and thrust a dainty hand forward saying, “My friends call me Meave.”
Jamison smiled warmly. “Meave,” the name echoed deliciously off his tongue.
He hailed a waiter, ordered ale and inquired if the lady by his side had ordered her meal to which she informed him that she had.
Quickly, he ordered a thick steak, cooked rare. After the waiter disappeared to the kitchen, he gave her a wink and said, “If they get it here before the hour, it will be a rare thing, indeed.”
Meave gave a tinkling laugh, her eyes sparkling once again.
There was something in those eyes… A man could positively get lost in them.
“And what do you do, to make yourself so bold, Jamison,” she asked.
Jamison feigned shock then grinned rakishly, “Me? Why dear lady, I rescue damsels in distress. You were in danger of being bored, so I came to your aid.”
Again she laughed. “Matter of fact, I’ve been bored for ages.”
”What? No mister…”
She shook her head to cut him off. “I’ve been on my own for nigh on two years.”
“I’ve been doing some traveling and happened upon your quaint village. Tell me, what do you people do for excitement around here?”
Before Jamison could answer, the waiter appeared with his frothy pint of ale.
Taking it from him, Jamison lifted it in a salute to his host saying, “I’m sure if we put our heads together we can come up with something that might amuse you.”
Meave lifted her own glass in a toast. “I’m sure you can, Jamison,” she replied knowingly.
Unlike Jamison’s dire prediction, their meal was served together.
Throughout the meal, their conversation was full of sexual innuendo, stirring Jamison’s blood all the more.
It also quickened her desire for him.
As soon as the meal was finished, Jamison took her to a quaint bed and breakfast that he knew too well.
It wasn’t breakfast that he was interested in. Not yet.
It was morning before he finally fell asleep exhausted from the night’s excursion.
While he slept, Meave watched him. His great chest heaved with his breathing. She knew he would be experienced in lovemaking, and she thought that she must have surprised him that she had been able to give as good as she got.
She wasn’t tired. Far from it. She was exhilarated. She had been seeking a new companion and for this handsome fellow to plop himself down beside her was a stroke of luck indeed.
Of course he would have to be turned, accept and join her in her lifestyle with the mystic arts. He would also have to give up all of his wicked ways for her alone.
That would be more to her liking. In fact, she would demand it for him to be her new companion.