She ducked her head, hiding the shy smile behind a fall of hair. “If you must praise me so unfairly, you must use only my name. It’s not so hard.” Peeking back at him, she thought again how very handsome he was, and hoped the heat of the fire would cover the heat of her face.
“Summer,” he stated with a rare and fleeting grin, far too used to being serious and professional at all time, before watching her hide away. “Hey there…what are you doing? And perhaps you’d return the favour of using my given name — it’s not so hard,” he echoed back with a crooked smile, before leaning back to gaze at her.
“You are a knight, and I am a serf,” she reminded him, unable to look away. “It would be unseemly.” Her hands, with the comb, lay still in her lap, forgotten. The smile changed his face from merely handsome to something breathtaking, and she was lost. She bit her lip, then whispered, “Isaac.”