He knew that closing the curtains would dim the room, making it difficult to properly clean her wound, yet the fear of her reaction to his appearance gnawed at him. At the same time, he was certain that she fell unconscious due to her shock at havingstumbled across that boar. He didn’t want to cause any further shock or distress.
Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of the urgency of the situation, pushing aside his own insecurities in favor of helping her. With trembling hands, he resisted the urge to draw the curtains closed, at least for the time being. He glanced at the door, waiting for Mr. Hancock, who appeared moments later.
Relief flooded William as he accepted the basin of warm water, some clean cloths and antiseptic solution from the tray Mr. Hancock had brought, his hands steady with resolve as he prepared everything. With gentle precision, he began to clean the wound, his movements careful and deliberate as he removed any dirt with the utmost tenderness. That was one good thing he had brought back from the war: knowledge to tend to minor injuries.
Despite the nervous flutter in his chest, his touch remained steady, his focus unwavering. He expected her to wake up at any moment, her eyes widening in shock at him, but no such thing happened. William couldn’t remember the last time he had been so close to a woman without her staring at him in sheer horror. Women, children. Even men refused to look at him for too long, almost as if his scar was contagious somehow and they might catch it if they looked at him too long.
Finally, he was done. He offered used supplies to Mr. Hancock.
“Please, dispose of these,” he asked softly, his voice down to a whisper. “And bring us some tea for two, if you will.”
Mr. Hancock nodded immediately, doing as he was told, closing the door behind him. Suddenly, the woman stirred gently. Her eyes were still closed, but William knew it was just a matter of time before she would wake up. Without hesitation, he moved swiftly to close the curtains, his actions driven by a desire to shield her from the harsh light as well as potential discomfort upon waking.
He stood by the window, slightly away from her, not really sure what to do. His pulse quickened at every sound she made, at every flutter of her eyelashes. Her delicate features seemed even more softened by sleep, and a twinge of self-consciousness gnawed at him, a silent reminder of the scars that marred his own image. Taking a deep breath, he approached her bedside, his movements gentle and cautious as he prepared to offer her reassurance and comfort in her moment of awakening.
As she blinked at him, her gaze filled with confusion and vulnerability, he reminded himself that he had the power to ease her fears. It was then that she spoke in the voice of an angel.
“Where am I?”
Chapter 3
Nothing around her was familiar.
Rose blinked her eyes, trying to clear the haze clouding her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was the dense canopy of the forest above her as she was bending down to gather herbs, their earthy scent mingling with the dampness of the forest floor. Then, a sudden commotion, the rustle of leaves, and the unmistakable grunts of a boar.
She could feel a dull ache in her limbs as she tried to piece together what happened. Was she attacked by the boar? Did she manage to escape? Her memories were all fragmented, like shards of glass scattered in her mind. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but that didn’t help much.
She looked around as her gaze sharpened. The room was dark, save for a few trickles of sunlight oozing through the side windows, untouched by the curtains. It was an opulent room, which she didn’t recognize. It made her apprehensive. She tried to recall how she got there, but her memories remained elusive, slipping through her grasp like water through clenched fingers. Was she dreaming? The room felt too vivid, too tangible for it to be a mere figment of her imagination.
It was then that she heard a voice.
“How are you feeling?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sound of the voice breaking through the silence of the room. She whirled her head around, her senses on high alert, trying to locate the source of the voice. In the dim light, she finally managed to make out the silhouette of a man, standing a bit further away from her, shrouded in shadows.
Who was that man? How did he get there? And more importantly, how did she get there? A thousand questions raced through her mind as she struggled to find her voice, her throat tight with apprehension.
“I… I’m…” Rose stammered, her words faltering, as she tried to compose herself. “I’m feeling… confused. Lost.”
Her voice echoed softly in the room, mingling with the hushed rustle of fabric as the man moved closer to her, but still remaining hidden. She watched him warily, the darkness obscuring his features completely, leaving her to wonder what might lie beneath the shadows. There was a tense silence that hung between them. She waited for him to respond, her heart hammering in her chest, unsure of what to expect next.
The man spoke again, his voice low and measured, cutting through the stillness like a blade through silk. “Forgive me forstartling you,” he said, sounding formal. “But I assure you, I mean you no harm. What is the last thing you remember?”
She thought about it for a moment, but a sudden headache blossomed inside of her, the pain spreading like wildfire through her body. She blinked heavily, in an effort to banish it, but it was impossible. Still, she spoke through the pain.
“I was… in the woods, I think,” she said.
“Yes, that is where I found you,” the man explained. “I think you tripped and fell, hitting your head, while you were trying to avoid the boar.”
The sounds of grunting. Squealing. The pointy teeth. The roots she tripped on and the feeling as if someone had suddenly stolen the sun from the sky, turning everything black. It all came back to her.
She lifted her hand, gently touching the well of her pain. Her body tensed at the sensation as she endeavored to relax through the onslaught of discomfort. She quickly realized that she had been bandaged, and rather well at that.
“Did… you do this?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the man, although she had no idea who she was looking at.
“Yes, I brought you here, to my home, and I cleaned your wound while you were still unconscious,” he explained.
“Your home?” she echoed curiously. “Is that where I am?”
