I haven't written romance before but I was inspired into writing this by the CIA's first contest. Comments and advice are greatly appreciated.

Casting Shadows

The air was torrid; it settled about the blossom tree in a menacing beam of concentrated heat. The dry branches were shaken, softly, by a failing breeze. A confetti snowstorm swirled down, landing upon Briar, the soft, pink flakes settling on her denim clad legs; crumpled, pink top; arms; feet; face. They swept around a discarded pair of riding boots and were ensnared in chestnut, spider-web curls. A moment later, they were brushed away by a slender, roaming hand as Briar awoke. She yawned and stretched, her oval face tilted towards the sun which spilled generously across her features: large, hazel eyes; soft, sensual lips; rosy cheeks; a mushroom nose. She waited upon the grassy mound, shaking despite the heat. Already a small mound of broken twigs had been victim to her fury. He has not come.

The heat was uncomfortable and the tree offered little shade but just beyond the mound was a grove of orange trees and a pathetic, little stream ran alongside them. Briar faced the other way. Beneath her legs, the grass was dry and prickly, but she was persistent, and the breeze came again, with sweet relief. What if he came and found me sleeping? Briar's anger abated for a moment as she considered this, squinting sourly into the distance. But her gaze fell upon the small farmhouse and she clawed up handfuls of grass. Or maybe he's there, in her bed.

Briar shifted, straining her neck when she saw a man on horseback approaching the mound. He dismounted wearily, his shoulders hunched and his eyes darting side to side. He tied his horse beside hers, to the single fence post that showed signs of having recently been moved: the ground freshly disturbed and the white paint-work carelessly chipped. The man's eyes settled; they had found what they sought. He began to climb the mound with ease, his riding boots flattening the grass into a crooked path. Briar stood, her arms held out to greet him, but the embrace was awkward.

The man withdrew and walked the distance to the tree, shuffling through the blossom petals and pausing at the broken twigs. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“How long-” Briar started angrily but calmed her voice. “How long, Eric? How long must I wait for you?”

“I'm barely even late,” Eric stated gruffly, his voice scraping against the tension in the air.

“Don't pretend to misunderstand!” Briar approached his unyielding back, her arms held out. “How long-” she wrapped her arms about his torso, feeling the sweat entwined with his white shirt. “-must I wait-” Briar placed her head on his shoulder, her chin fitting smoothly into the nook. “-for us?” And then, she kissed the face as it turned towards her. The face with slate features and a prickly beard but with such a kissable mouth, cracked and dry from the sun's abuse. Briar kissed him harder, eager to revitalise that door-way to their love but Eric broke away. His body trembled and he ran a nervous tongue across those same lips as if to wipe away the touch of her mouth on his. Her lavender perfume lingered on his shirt and his sweat on hers.

“I can't. Not now." Eric spoke harshly, his voice sounding cutting even at its quietest tone. His tired, grey eyes looked at the ground, fixed on that pile of broken twigs. Briar's emotions flared and she clenched her fists, raised one brow.

"Oh? Should I remind you who made the first move?" Eric didn't reply but slowly he raised his eyes from the ground. They were tired; hurt.

"Should I remind you-"

"There's no need," Eric cut in, almost softly. "But it's gone too far. And I have to think of Sophie now."

“But she's not here!” Briar shrieked, her voice reaching an intolerable screech.

“She's here,” Eric said, pointing at his head and then flattening the hand against it, groping through his soft, blonde hair as if to reach the woman ensnared in his thoughts.

“You can't let her come between us,” Briar pleaded, taking his hand away and holding it between both of hers.

“Neither can I forget.” Briar's eyes filled with tears as she clung to him, tugged at him, grabbing hold of his shirt and pulling him close. Calmly, Eric took hold of her wrists and held them tight until the skin went red and she released him with a little whimper. He let her go and walked heavily to the fence post. Briar rubbed her wrists and watched him leave.

“She will always be a shadow in our lives," she whispered bitterly.