Wednesday, January 9, 2013
The time Kirsty looked at his breath froze in her lungs. Her heart threatened to beat out of his tight chest. Those knees which was precarious to begin with would have given way, if not for the giant hand that reached across the stile to Grip her elbow, and draw it through the device.
"Kirsten," his deep, heavily accented voice caressed her face as he bent over to brush chaste kiss on her cheek. Few people need to bend to kiss her, but this discretion. "This is for you," he said as he handed her a bouquet of colorful flowers.
"Kirsty," she stammered to a loss of their attempted introduction.
His lips appeared in the corners, but she could not exactly be called a smile. More like who looks her cat Thomas gave her when he tried to handle it in giving him another treat. "No, Kirsten's your name on my tongue, and that's what I'll call you."
She brought the flowers to her face and inhaled the exotic but subtle aroma. She could see that they are not your typical flower shop selection. "Thank you," she finely managed to whisper.
He nodded, "You are welcome. They are my mother's green house. She thought you might like some sign of our homeland. Artic wild flowers have always been his passion. She says they kept her sane while dealing with my father, uncles and all my brothers. "
This was the most that Sven has been revealed about himself in all his months of correspondence. It should be reassuring, made the people more human, but only deepened his mystery. Her heart stuttered for a moment and she considered going back around, trying to catch the train to London before it left the station. She was in over her head, and she knew it.
But with those icy blue eyes staring at her, she could not find the strength to say a word. Much less to pull his arm from his firm grip, turn and go back through the station. Running back would be a good plan, she thought, as he drew his against him and wrapped his arm on his shoulder.
"Coffee, yes?" he said. She nodded as he led her out of the station and on the main street. Tilbury was just like any other small port near the channel, non-descript. Dead almost, but after the hustle and bustle of London, held quaint appeal all its own. They walked in silence for a few minutes until they came to a chip shop. Sven stepped back and held open the door for her. "I'm sorry. It is not much there."
Kirsty smiled weakly and nodded at his words. She turned and looked back at the station, designed for something. As if something had warned her to run, run now. But she dismissed it. The man may not look exactly like his photo but appeared normal enough. She is paranoid it was.
The next hour went quickly, two cups of coffee, a decent conversation and laughter than she could ever remember on a first date, not that this was a real date, more like old friends meeting for drinks she supposed. Except you do not spend the whole time sneaking glances at your friends, wondering what they would look like naked, what they would be like in bed. No, but Sven was surprisingly easy to talk to she was still intensely nervous. "
I guess I let you get back to work, Sven. Catch the next train back to London," she stammered to study his hands around the plain white coffee mug. "It was a pleasure meeting you though."
He frowned, the movement sent a deep creases in his striking face. He was not handsome in the traditional sense. Almost forty, his skin was resisted by his labor, small tracts of wrinkles on her mouth and across the forehead. His hair was longer than she thought, falling just below her shoulder blades. His lips, that she could not stop looking at when he spoke it was surrounded by goatee and mustache. But it was those eyes still that Kirsty could not forget.
Not only the intense shade of blue or the twinkle when he laughed, which she received the impression he did not do nearly enough, but something more. Intelligence, of course. Authority, by the way. But something else also. Pain, perhaps.
She needed to stop thinking about that man needed to go home, to find some decent chap and establish as his mother said. No mysterious men, who reminded her of her Viking ancestors. Rough fishermen, who brought her exotic Artic wildflowers, had no place in her orderly life. No matter how much her body ached to feel his touch. Have him do any of the naughty things they discussed in those emails.
"No," the only word was spoken in a low, calm voice, but that required obedience. "I'll show you the boat."
Kirsty knew that she would have to discuss. I knew that she would have to manufacturer her escape now. But the truth was that this man is still fascinated by it. Maybe seeing him in his natural environment would offer her some closure, some of the answers to this mystery that drew her like the proverbial moth to a flame.
View into the depths of those intense eyes, she thought, a very hot flame and I was going to get burnt. But still found herself nodding her agreement. He held her jacket as she worked her arms in it. His hand brushed briefly against the side of the chest, and she expired.
It came from a pathetic, miserable little whimper. She lost her eyes in embarrassment. When she finally found the courage to look up at him, Sven was smiling, but not just any smile, a smile that made her want to destroy for this station. 'Come in,' said the spider to the fly, she thought.