Strike three?
"Did you cut my hair?" She quickly reached for her ponytail.
He let the hair slip from his hand onto the ground.
"I told you I would… and now I have."
There was a sparkle in his eyes as the flame of the candle caught on it.
"You were serious about it?"
He moved past her and strode to the large mahogany desk. As he settled down on the intimidating chair, he said, "I warned you once about daring a soldier."
She touched the tip of her pony tail again to be certain.
"How could you!"
He picked up a quill and dipped it into an inkwell. Then he retrieved a fresh parchment and began to write on it.
Everetta could not help but notice how regal he looked seated there.
It just suited him…
Then he glanced up as if suddenly remembering that she was still standing where he had left her.
"Do have a seat, Lady Whitmore. Pardon my lacking manners."
Despite herself, she bit her lower lip and took the seat he offered.
"To what do I owe the pleasure."
