““Shouldn't we get up?" With unexpected strength,he grabbed her waist and rolled her over at the same time, poisitioning her so that she was astride him. "I don't think so." Bronwyn licked her lips. "It is Saint Stephen's Day. The people will be waiting." "For their pots full of money." "So you know the custom," she purred, letting her fingers play with the hairs on his chest. "Of course," he groaned. "I ordered the clay pots as soon as we got back after we went hunting.I'll pass them out tonight." "Did you know that you,too,get a present?" Bronwyn asked as she leaned down to kiss his naval, smiling with delight as his stomach contracted. Ranulf grinned back. "Really?And just what is in my clay pot?" "Your present doesn't come in a pot," she purred, smiling as her hand slowly moved lower,making a trail for her mouth and tongue to follow. "And even more lucky,you don't have to wait until tonight either.””
