Twelve

 

A man who blushed! The sensible part of Molina's brain told her to run far and fast from this man, for she had no patience for fools. But the other part of her mind, the louder part, reminded her that everybody did foolish things on occasion. The village boys in particular, when courting a girl they fancied. Not that Lubos could fancy her after such a short time. Then again, she knew he fancied taking her to bed.

She wondered if his being a bigger man would make such a thing better or worse. Not that she intended to try him out just to sate her curiosity. Then who would be the foolish one?

Molina explained how the waterwheels worked, then pointed out the improvements she'd made. They might be small, but they were nevertheless important changes that her mother would surely have made herself, in time.

"And what of the machine you sketched yesterday?" Lubos asked, holding out the damp bark piece that had survived his dunking.

Molina took the drawing and stared at it for a long moment. "An idea that came to me yesterday. A wheel for spinning thread. By making the spinning go faster, a woman could spin more in a day, or have more time for other things. Or if every woman in town had one, and spent the same amount of time spinning, there'd be more linen than they could possibly need. Enough to sell, for there is always a market for linen, whether 'tis coarse or fine. Or if I could harness a waterwheel to power the spinning wheel, or a dozen spinning wheels, much like I've done with the hammers for beating the flax into fibres we can spin..." Only now did she recognise the glazed over look in Lubos' eyes, and stopped. Maybe he wasn't so different to the village boys or Bachmeier after all. "I can see I'm boring you, Master Lubos."

He shook his head, and the glazed look vanished. "No, you are distracting me. I should be listening to your words, but you're filled with such passion that my thoughts drifted...elsewhere. I must apologise, Mistress Molina. No matter how intently I listen to your words, I will never be able to convey them as clearly as you can. Your ideas are...amazing. They cannot be allowed to rot in this place, like flax in the millponds. They must be conveyed to the king, while they are still fresh and new. When I leave for the capital, you must come with me."

Leave the village and visit the capital? Molina's heart leaped at the thought. No one left the village, and if they did, it was only to visit the next town over. The capital...why, it was as distant as the moon to most of them. To think she might get to meet the king, and have one of the king's own men speaking in support of her...perhaps her spinning wheels could be more than just a dream.

She seized Lubos's shoulders and kissed him. She intended it to be a chaste kiss – she knew her father was watching, after all – but the moment her lips touched his, she forgot everything. His lips were warm and willing, parting to tempt her inside, and she could not refuse. His tongue caressed hers with an ardour that spoke of more, far more, than a simple kiss. And as she kissed him back, letting her tongue dance with his, her body ached to share that ardour, pressing against him so that she could feel the heat of him through his borrowed clothes. What would it feel like to have his hands stroke her the way he'd stroked himself, crying out her name as he touched her...

Molina pushed him away before she tore his clothes off in her passion to satisfy her curiosity.

Molina took a deep breath. "I will come with you," she said, then added, "If my father agrees he can spare me." She nodded up the mountain, to the trees where she suspected her father watched, unseen, waiting for just such a kiss.

She was not surprised, when the question was put to her father, that he sat there as satisfied as a cream-filled cat as he gave his permission. "But you must swear to take good care of her, for Molina is my only daughter, and very precious to me," Father finished.

Lubos looked grave, then placed his hand over his heart. "Sir, I swear to you on my honour that I will hold her life dearer than my own for every moment she is in my care."

Neither made any mention of her returning home, Molina noticed, but chose to hold her tongue. Father imagined her marrying the man, she was sure of it, but Lubos...she wasn't sure why he would want to keep her. Perhaps to supervise the wheel building or some such thing. For a man who could resist Bachmeier's daughters was not one who allowed his passions to rule him.

She pushed away the small voice in her head that protested about how little she knew about this man, or the king and his court. This was her fate, and she would not let such an opportunity pass by without seizing it. No one could know the future, but she knew hers was twisted up with Lubos, at least for now.

And on the journey, she would have time to find out if he truly was a fool, or merely a fool in love. Was it too much to ask that her heart longed for the second?