He comes. She can hear his footsteps, muffled though they are. She hastily drops her trowel in the new-turned earth, afraid he will see her at her work. No, ashamed. She tries to wipe the stains from her patched skirt, but they will not come out.
Strong arms embrace her from behind, squeezing tears from her eyes. What did she ever do to deserve such a wonderful man? And he is above her! The King! And she is but a kitchen maid. Yet not one month ago he claimed her hand in marriage. Her heart swells with love and gratitude. She turns in his grasp and clings to him. She looks into his eyes, and he tenderly wipes her tears away.
She puts her mouth close to his ear and whispers, "Oh good sir, kiss me quickly, for the love you show me is sweeter than wine, and even your name smells sweet." Laughing, he obliges her. The kiss is long, and sweet, and deep, full of passion and love. She draws away in wonder, in awe. "No wonder all the women of the town are in love with you! Oh hurry, let us go to your chambers quickly."
With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, the king scoops her up, laughing, and carries her to the nearby cottage he purchased for them.
They disrobe separately, eager to be in each others arms. They step into the bedroom, and the smile on her face wilts, and tears fill her eyes. He is staring at her. She knows why he stares. She cannot bring herself to look in his eyes, but stares at his chest and arms. His flesh is smooth and pale, it has never seen the blazing sun for hours on end. It is beautiful skin.
"The women are right to be in love with you," she chuckles nervously. "What is there not to love?" Silence cloaks them again and her defenses begin to crumble. "Don't stare at me, my lord, please. I am dark, yes, but I am lovely too, am I not? I am dark like… like the tent curtains you have in your keep." She covers her face with her hands and begins to weep softly. In a moment he is with her, drawing her close and holding her. Just holding her as she cries into his chest. "Do not stare at me, my lord. I am darkened by the sun. My stepbrothers, they did not like me. They hated me and forced me to do their work. I was to work in their vineyards, tending the vines while they enjoyed the fruits of my labor. They did not even care that the vineyard I had bought for myself was left untended. I am sorry, please do not stare at me." She chokes through her sobs. Tenderly he leads her to sit on the bed. She leans against him as her sobs slow. When she regains her composure, she gathers her courage and looks up into his eyes.
No condemnation shadows his brow, not a single thought of reproach does she read in his honey brown eyes. Compassion radiates from his face, and it gives her new boldness, fortifying her courage.
Taking a deep breath, she says, "Tell me, my love, where does your flock graze?" He stares at her, puzzled by the strange question. "For I have wondered," she pushes on, "Why do I veil myself beside the flocks of your friends? What have I to hide?" His face widens with a great grin of joy.
And then he speaks. "I think that you are a mare from the stables of the Pharaoh," he caresses her cheek. "Strong and swift as the wind. You are laden with jewelry, and it is beautiful to behold. In fact, tomorrow I shall go to my craftsmiths and have them make you gold earrings with silver studded all over. What say you?" His eyes sparkle with merriment.
She laughs and pulls him down on the bed, under the sheets and says, "While you et your supper, I was practicing my charms for you this night. Let me match you in our game of pretend." She closes her eyes as if in deep thought, and soothes, "I think you are a package of perfume that hangs between my breasts. I think you are a bundle of fresh spring blossoms from the far vineyards on the hills."
He draws closer and they bond, their bodies becoming one in sweet unity. He gazes into her eyes and exclaims, "You are truly a beauty, even your eyes are like the doves, peaceful and soft."
"And how striking you are, my lover," she arches her brow. "Surely you are my prince charming! Is not our bed fragrant?"
"Nay, not just the bed, but the whole house! Even the fir and cedar beams smell of our love."