After taking a deep breath, Heather reached up, opened the changing room door, and stepped out. Please let him like it. She prayed as she looked around for Balgair. She bit her lower lip as she found him and realized he was watching her. “Maighstir,” she whispered. Do you like it? Please say you like it.
“Oh, Mo tè glè bhrèagha1,” came the whispered words from his lips. Words that left her breathless with desire.
He likes it, he really likes it. Heather beamed as she looked up from the floor and saw the look of awe on his face. “Maighstir mo ghràidh.” Heather sank to her knees and lifted her hands to him.
Balgair took her hands in his, and without a word, he pulled her to her feet and flushed against his body. “I will never let you go.” The promise in his voice was such that it almost sent Heather back to her knees, only his arms around her, holding her up.
Thank you, thank you, Mistress Ananke. She clung to Balgair in ecstatic joy. I could, I could get him to do anything. …
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