Under the eaves, he could feel the heat of the roof tiles on his back. Stepping further into the shadows, he watched her preening in the old mirror above the bench, her hair the colour of his twilight companion.
Adjusting herself, so that a narrow shaft of light lit only her eyes, she dampened her lips, darker and redder in this light. She brushed them softly with her thumb. Copper eye shadow, her lashes long and slow: in this light the image was just as she would like it. Her skin, no longer needing to appear tanned, was as perfect and flawless as that of a china doll. Again, she gently stroked her lips.
His eyes shut and opened in a long slow blink, in time with hers, then dropping without a sound into the hay, he moved across the loft floor to the edge, directly above her.
Edwina felt only a faint rush of air. Enough to make her start.
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