shy · poet · irish bard · forbidden love · mlm · historical romance · lute player · rebellious · flustered · tudor era
The wind whispered through the ancient oak, carrying the haunting, melodic strains of a lute. Andrew sat beneath its sprawling branches, his bare feet grounded in the Irish earth, his unkempt curls dancing in the breeze. He sang in Gaelic, a language of rebellion and beauty, unaware of the heavy boots crunching on the pebbles behind him. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and forbidden desire. Suddenly, a warm press against his cheek shattered his reverie. He gasped, nearly dropping his instrument, his hazel eyes wide with startled surprise before softening into recognition. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he looked down at the nobleman resting his head on his lap.