A Burning Question

"Of course, my Lord," Jocelynn said, snuggling close to Owain and pressing her head against his firm, muscular shoulder. "I put my trust in you for everything," she whispered. 

This close to him, her heart thundered in her chest and her face flushed bright red. The warmth from his body seemed to radiate through his fine linen tunic, and the rich scent of woodsmoke still clung to his freshly washed skin, mixed with the subtle hints of cedar and musk from the expensive soaps he'd used. 

This moment felt like a gift from the Holy Lord of Light, offering her everything she had ever wanted from life. Owain desired her deeply, she could feel it from the strength in his arm as he held her close, tensed like he couldn't allow her to escape.