Free Becomes the Rose by Pelaam Page A

until he realised he was staring. The green gaze held a mesmerizing, almost indescribable quality that Tarin could easily become lost in.
    “Hi,” Tarin said with a slightly nervous smile.
    “We rarely get visitors. We’re… off the beaten track, so to speak,” the blond added with a smile. “My name is Anton.”
    Tarin swallowed. Even in the gathering dusk, the newcomer’s teeth flashed white.
    “I… er… I got lost, somehow,” Tarin offered, unsure whether he wanted to turn and flee or accept the offer implicit in those hypnotic eyes.
    “You need a place to stay then. My Master has a small guest house.”
    Tarin jumped nervously. He had not seen this newcomer either. However, he relaxed at the sight of a matronly woman who beamed at him.
    “I guess I do at that. I’d love a bath, too, and a meal?” he added hopefully. “I have a credit card, but not my driver’s licence.”
    “Let’s worry about all of that later, dear,” the woman said, hooking her arm around Tarin’s elbow. “It’s not often I get to have such a handsome young man on my arm.” She winked at him. “It’s this way.”
    “I’ll be seeing you,” the blond said.
    “Sure,” Tarin replied. He gave a small shudder. Somehow the words sounded more like a promise, or threat, than a farewell. Tarin gave himself a mental shake. He was getting overly spooked.
    The woman’s voice cut into his thoughts. “Now we don’t hold much with exotic food here. It’ll be a rabbit stew with some vegetables. There are some apples that I can turn into a dessert, too,” she added.
    “That’ll be wonderful,” Tarin said wholeheartedly. Hot food, a bath, and a bed for the night; paradise. Hopefully he could get the directions necessary to a town with a shuttle bus in the morning.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Tarin loved the bath. It was a long, deep, antique bath standing on clawed feet. He didn’t consider himself particularly tall, an inch or so less than six feet, yet sometimes modern baths seemed so cramped. He could stretch out fully in this beauty and idly wondered whether he would ever be able to afford one. Deciding that if he remained in the water much longer he would be a wrinkled prune, he eased from his watery haven.
    He perused himself critically in the full - length mirror. His chestnut hair , normally in waves , hung dark and straight , dripping onto his shoulders. He had a modest dusting of chest hair and a piercing in his right nipple. He was slender , without being skinny or gangly , and his camping activities ensured his arms and lean legs were also toned. He looked into his own espresso eyes and sighed. He spent a lot of time in groups , occasionally giving surreptitious , jealous glances a t couples who were so obviously right together. His parents divorced when he was a child , and his mother remarried twice thereafter. He wondered whether that was why he needed to be sure he had found the Right One for him.
    He dried himself with the large , fluffy towel provided . Was the fact that thirty was fast approaching the thing causing him to think so much about a lifetime partner and commitment ? Perhaps he needed to start going to the more up - market bars and chang e some of his leisure activities to places where he might find more single guys. He pulled on the single pair of dark pants he ‘d packed and a white shirt that would have looked good with out the myriad of creases from being stuffed hurriedly into his backpack .
    His room sat at the back of the small house , and the room he ‘d been shown in which he could dine was the next one on the left from his bedroom. The house was clearly not intended to lo o k after guests , but he knew he would be warm and comfortable and the aroma of hot , cooked food was so tantalising that his mouth was beginning to water.
    The meal was unexpectedly excellent; a rabbit stew with chunks of carrots and onion and mashed potatoes on the side that tasted every bit as good as looked and smelt. Eating