“I’ve dreamt of this,” she breathed, dimly aware that the
raggedy blades of dunegrass she clutched for stability were cutting into the
palms of her tension-gripped hands.
“Aye, gal, so have we all,” said sympathetic Shep. “But the thing of it is – he’s doing it.”
An undeniable truth, but she was beginning to feel surly. “How?” The single word carried an edge. Envy and hope jostled for position within her, threatening to spill over into a fit of brazen jealousy.
From the corner of her eye, she could see his head swivel her way. “You should ask him that one.”
To be continued...
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