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That same wind caught the window, still hanging open. The hinges sounded again, that familiar sound echoing back strangely from my dreams, and it broke me from the spell. I beckoned to him. He stood slowly, like a beast with its eyes trained on a hunter. I held my breast through my gown with a hand and shifted beneath the blankets, so the fabric dipped between my spread thighs. Still afraid to speak, wary that a sound might send him scurrying, I quirked my fingers again. Come. He did. Still slowly, moving gently, almost. The boards of my attic bedroom, in my poor husband's old, creaking house, did not sound beneath his steps. His face was still shaded when he reached for me, but that only made the first touch sweeter. My thief was who I wanted him to be, like that. As he ran a shaking hand into my hair, brought another down to join my own on my breast, he was a desert prince divesting me of my silken robe. As he settled on the edge of my bed, warmth and solidity at my side, he was. We got along well enough publicly and in private. He gave away the game in that he knew the names of my wives, sergeants, master sergeant and Clancy. I seriously considered aiding his disappearance on an extended walk thru the woods and swamps. My decision must have shown thru my eyes as he begged my forgiveness and made a breast of it. There was naught to show that he still danced upon a delicate strand but my caution in converse. He was a bold one, he was. Knowing that his maker's hand was upon his shoulder he inquired of how George, the continental congress and the French state department had been 'gentled'. With a smile I informed him that if one had the skill of a chemist, chiurgeon and medical botanist many things were possible, and naught would suffice to protect a target save being either sworn lord or family to all having contact with garments, bedding, beer and food. Without other recourse, as in one case, a barber had been suborned and a perfumed hot towel was the means of.
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