HER
If it were any other night, perhaps I'd be able to keep my composure in the face of his hypocritical wrath.
But not tonight.
Not when I'm raw, plucked clean to the bone. In truth, my hands sting fiercely, and I'm belatedly worried how I'll be able to handle work tomorrow, but honestly, the nerve of this man makes me see red.
How dare he scold me? How dare he try to pretend like he cares?
I suppose that's rather unfair, he could care for me as an old acquaintance. I grind my jaw so hard it hurts.
He probably pities me.
He growls, actually growls, and, seemingly at the end of his rope, seethes.
"Fine. Stand for all I care."
I raise my chin defiantly as he grabs my hand, still gentle despite the anger radiating off him. We both pant into the silence as he skillfully fixes the, no doubt minor, wounds on my hands. In no time at all they're clean and bandaged, and my pride hurts more than anything.
How the hell am I supposed to keep my dignity around him now?
He sighs, his face still flushed with anger. His words are clipped.
"Are there any more?"
In the second it takes me to decide whether or not to tell the truth, his face shutters again, seeing right through me.
"Dammit, Laura, where?"
I go to clench my hands, forgetting they're bandaged, and wince.
His face only darkens further.
"Where?" His voice is so low, so dark, the words are out of me before I can think it over.
"My knees, they got the worst of it…"
My voice trails off into a surprised squeak the moment the words leave my mouth.
Because Aleksi drops to the floor in front of me.
I blanch, trying to step back, but before I can, he wraps gentle hands around the backs of my knees. I rock forward, off kilter, and my hands find purchase on the nearest object, Aleksi's shoulders, to stabilize myself.
One hand keeps me still, a whisper behind my leg, while the other goes to the hem of my skirt. As I realize what he intends to do I cry out in alarm, heat searing my whole face and spreading rapidly over the rest of me.
"Aleksi!"
He freezes. My skirt is only just barely over my boot, and yet he seems to have finally realized how completely awkward this whole situation is. He sucks in a breath, hesitant and lurching in a way I've never seen him.
Can this get any worse?
Evidently, yes, because right at that moment, a surprised gasp comes from the doorway to the servants' hall. My blood turns to ice, and I'm certain it must be Sara. After all, I just saw her outside. Shame and humiliation run through me, and I feel the overwhelming urge to just collapse to the floor and cry.
There will be no way to explain this. Aleksi on his knees in front of me, skirt lifted precariously, if not scandalously, and my hands digging into his firm shoulders, hunched over him.
Our heads both whip towards the sound, and a mixture of horror and relief floods me.
It's George. The valet.
"Oh, um, sorry. I'll just…"
He turns tail and runs away so fast he's practically a blur.
Aleksi remains just as still as I do as he disappears from sight.
My jaw must be on the floor, my face a mess of redness and dirt.
What do I even do now?
I'm just about to be crippled by my horror when Aleksi starts trembling beneath my fingers. I expect fear, maybe even tears, but instead I see a wide smile.
His face contorts with the effort of keeping in his laugh, and as soon as he sees my face he breaks entirely. Laughter echoes around us, bursting through the room as he chortles.
"Aleksi!" I groan, but something about his laughter highlights the absolute absurdity of this whole day. How exhausting and embarrassing and emotional.
I can't help the stilted laugh that rips out of me as I bring a shaking hand to my face, groaning.
We stay like that longer than makes sense. Laughing until we're breathless, and then meeting each other's eyes, setting us howling again.
Only when my throat is hoarse with it does our laughter finally fizzle.
He looks up at me, smiling wryly.
"Now can I please get you cleaned up?"
HIM
I hope she doesn't notice the tremble in my hands as I clean the dirt and rocks from her knees. Maybe she'll think it's left over from laughing.
They really do look awful. The wounds are superficial, but they're caked with dirt and dried blood. Her stockings are ripped, and, miraculously, I manage to ask if I can cut the remnants away in an even tone. Now her soft skin is fully visible from just above her knee.
Which explains the tremor in my fingers.
She makes me completely lose my head.
When my hand brushed her shin and she practically screamed at me, I realized what I was doing. How it looked.
Maybe not indecent, but not easily explainable either.
When cleaning wounds, my brain turned off any knowledge of those things, but hearing her panic forced me to remember.
I'm a man.
She's a woman.
A married woman.
Even now, the thin gold band on her finger keeps my eyes trained fixedly on her broken knees.
The thick ice that crackled between us seems to be thawing, and I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing.
Well, good for her, bad for my heart.
"So," her voice begins softly, "you've been… well?"
She winces and I lighten my touch.
"Well enough."
She nods, looking around the room, clearly desperate for conversation to ease the awkwardness.
"What've you been… doing?" Besides getting married. I bite back the comment.
"Oh, um. I have a small dress shop."
This gets my attention.
"You're not a ladies maid up north?"
She swallows, her hands fiddling with her bandages unconsciously.
"No," she seems to think for a moment, "When I left to… take care of my… Grandmother, I needed to be nearer to her, so I started doing small things like mending, and over time I started to make the dresses." The last words whoosh out of her quickly, compared to the slow, deliberate way she started.
I hum, picturing it. It would suit her, the small, detailed work. Owning her own little shop.
Morbid curiosity wars in me.
Ask or don't ask.
Knowing is better than wondering.
"And your husband?" I try to sound casual, but I have to pause a moment to collect myself before continuing bandaging her.
She's quiet for a moment, and the anticipation makes me want to scream.
"He owns a small inn in the village. We manage it together."
I nod despite the horrible twisting happening in my chest.
Silence settles between us again.
And maybe it's because she never said goodbye. Or maybe because Adah knew. Or because she's married and forever out of my reach. Perhaps a combination. It causes the words to spill from my mouth, unbidden.
"Too bad you only arrived when you did, you just missed the spring festival."
By three months.
I don't say that part.
She flinches under my hands and guilt floods me. She might think I'm bringing it up because I'm trying to make it happen again.
What happened on the day of the last festival, in that rain soaked tunnel.
Aren't you? A voice in me asks coldly.
She's married. I rationalize, not at all believing myself.
I'm about to apologize when she stands abruptly. I hadn't really noticed that I was done wrapping her knees.
"Thank you, Aleksi." Her voice is tight, and I feel the ice between us become thicker than ever. I don't respond as she leaves the room, I just remain where I am, hard floor digging into my knees.
I close my eyes and listen to her footsteps retreat, every step taking her farther away from me.