Ember’s smile widened. “I think I’d like that very much.”
She slipped the slippers on, feeling the snug embrace of the wool against her skin, the soft cushion of the leather beneath her arches. The fit was perfect, as if the slippers had been waiting for her all along. She lifted one foot, then the other, feeling the warmth spreading up her calves, a gentle hum of gratitude resonating through her entire body. ember snow loveherfeet
Ember let out a soft sigh, a mixture of surprise and contentment. She leaned back, letting the warmth of the fire and the tender attention of Lucas’s hands wash over her. The moment felt intimate, not in a rushed, urgent way, but in the quiet understanding that two people could share something as simple as the feeling of being cared for. Ember’s smile widened
“They’re made from the hide of a mountain goat,” Lucas explained, “light as a feather, warm enough for the coldest evenings, and I added a little lavender oil to the lining just the way you like it.” She lifted one foot, then the other, feeling
Lucas had always been a man of sturdy hands—hands that could coax a perfect dovetail joint from a stubborn piece of pine, hands that could carve delicate filigree into a wedding ring. Yet there was a part of him that felt oddly vulnerable when he thought about Ember’s feet, as if they represented a secret language he had yet to learn.