She sat amid the roses, her dainty hands cupping a unique bud. Her auburn curls cascaded over one shoulder, falling into a pool of satin in her lap. The blush staining her high and aristocratic cheekbones was not born of the heat; rather the air was cool for an English Spring. --- Reminding myself that I wrote this so I won't forget it. It's just a rough draft, so eh.. =)
Pending: Her slightly parted lips cruved upwards into a smile of elation even as her face followed her hands down to the bud, to take in the heady scent of Spring.
He stood in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame...
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A Story: Part I
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