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She turned back towards her pottery room.  And gathered both a vase and a lamp for his mother.  She set them down into a large, clay, rectangular box that she had created for the purpose of carrying things around. 

“Are those for my mother too?” he asked in surprise as he watched her bend over the box.

She nodded.

He reached up and began to pull the stemware down from the top shelf so that he could hand them to her.  “You are most generous,” he murmured solemnly as he held a glass out to her. 

His finger brushed hers as he relinquished that piece of pottery.  She nearly gasped at that unusual contact.  Truthfully, she wasn’t used to being touched. 

It was one of the things that she most missed about her mother.  She had received frequent hugs from the precious woman once.  But now, only Ae Ri and small children ever touched her.  It was another reason that she enjoyed playing with other people’s babies and grandchildren.  She then had an excuse for physical contact with another human being.

Ni Na was an extremely lonely soul.  Who craved contact with someone else.  The loss of her mother had grieved her greatly.  As did the absence of her doting appa.

She stood frozen.  Staring down at her hand.  Where Lord Lee Beom Sook’s skin had grazed her own.  Sending a flurry of odd sensations along her nerves.

“Miss Choi?  Are you all right?” he queried suddenly as he stared down at her in consternation.

The girl had been squatting in that strange position as though in a trance for the past several seconds.  Gazing at her own hand.

His voice seemed to break the spell.  Her eyes careened into his.  “What?  Oh.  Yes.  I’m fine.”

He continued to hand her glasses.  And to watch her carefully.  She had sobered in the last few moments.

“What’s bothering you?” he finally asked her.  Once all the pottery for his mother had been nestled into the bottom of the box and Ni Na had stood up to face him.

A wave of vulnerability flooded her countenance.  “Um.  It’s nothing.  Really.”

But then he shocked her by reaching out and grasping both her hands with his own.  “Please.  Talk to me,” he spoke in a very soft tone.  “I want to know what’s bothering you.”

A tear flooded her eye as she gazed down at those strong hands surrounding hers.  And felt the heat of his palms cascading into her own.  Enveloping her like the warmth of a blanket or a wool cloak on a frigid winter’s day.  She closed her eyes and soaked in the delight of his presence.  Of having anyone – who wasn’t a servant or her best friend – care about her.  Smile at her.  Touch her.

“I am not…used to being…touched,” she finally admitted haltingly.

He noticed her closed eyes.  And the tear slipping down her cheek.  And his heart turned over.  There was a rare tenderness hidden within this girl’s heart.  And it drew him to her.  Strongly.

“And I miss it,” she gasped on a sob.

Again, his heart flailed about in his chest. 

“My dear girl!” he ejaculated. 

And without thinking, he tugged on her hands until her body flew forward.  He released her fingers and slid his arms up around her back as he drew her close to himself.  He engulfed her in a warm hug.

And she relaxed against that strong torso.  It felt so…good to be embraced.  She hadn’t been hugged since her father had left on his last journey.  Eight weeks ago.

She closed her eyes and inhaled.  And was instantly rewarded.  By the scent of…honeycomb. 

What an odd thing for a man to smell of!  But he did.  And it was absolutely delightful.

She breathed deeply and was instantly distracted from that pleasing scent by the brush of his fingers as they slid to and fro across her back.  She concentrated on those miraculous fingertips.  They were releasing such a quality of comfort into her.  And something else….  Something…

…electrifying. 

In that moment, she recognized a hard truth.

She wanted this man.

Not just his friendship.  And not just for today.

But for always. 

She wanted to be the wife for whom he was searching.

Was there any possible way that she could intrigue him enough to gain that coveted spot in his life?

She cared not for his wealth.  Or his title.  She simply wanted the man himself.  Glorious Beom Sook.  His tender touch.  His gentle voice.  His sweet spirit.  His delightful sense of humor.  His keen intelligence.  His appreciation of her talent.  His handsome face.  His captivating eyes.  Even his bent nose.  All of him had become dear to her over the past few days.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  Biting back a sob.  As those solacing arms continued to cradle her.  Like she was a tiny child once more.  “No one has held me since my eomma died.  Except for a few brief hugs from my appa.”

She ran the tip of her nose across the indigo silk of his outer robe.  Disturbing the musty scent of honeycomb once more.

“Do you commune with bees?” she mumbled.

Perplexed, he frowned and gazed down at the top of her dark head.  “What?”

She giggled and glanced up at him.  “You smell like honeycomb.”

“Oh.”  She provoked his chortle.  Laughing, he peered affectionately down at her.  “Oh, dear.  You’ve disturbed one of my secrets now.”

“What?”

He grinned as he admitted, “I am an amateur beekeeper.  And I just spent the morning among my combs.  I keep last autumn’s harvest in a warm room in my house.  I spent a while cutting some of them today.”

“Really?” she asked.  Now she was the one intrigued.

He bobbed his head.  “I adore honey.”

“As do I.  I have a tremendous sweet tooth,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Delightful,” he grinned at her.  “So do I!  I shall ensure that the cook makes something marvelously sweet for dessert tonight.”

“Oh, you do know how to tempt a girl, my lord!” she teased him.

But she felt instantly self-conscious as her words troubled a measuring glance from him.  His gaze slid away from hers and seemed to land on her lips.

“Do I now?” he murmured provocatively.

At least, it seemed provocative combined with that flirtatious glance.

She instantly bled crimson.  Into her countenance.  She could feel her cheeks warming under that tantalizing gaze.  And her heart began to drum out a rapid tattoo.  Was the man considering…kissing her?

She felt immediately breathless.  Her lungs unable to keep up with the crazy beat of her heart.  She would love nothing more than to be kissed by this sweet man.

Nervously, she inhaled sharply in a bid for air – which seemed to be in short supply right now – before the tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips unconsciously.  She watched as his eyes widened slightly.  Then he seemed to come to himself, and his gaze returned to hers.

“Shall we head to my house?” he asked.  Disappointingly.

To cover her confusion, she stepped away from him and glanced at the box on the floor.  “Certainly, my lord.”

She bent to retrieve it, but his voice stopped her.  “No.  Please.  Allow me.” 

He leaned over and grasped the box by the handles that she’d built into its sides.  He lifted it easily off the floor and grinned at her.  “My mother is going to love these.  Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she murmured softly as she stood up and led the way out of the room.

Sorry to leave that confined space.  She had relished being alone with him.  And wondered when she would ever have such a rare opportunity again.