He was so close that she could feel the heat from his body. She could smell him, too. The combination made her head swim. And the way he was staring at her made her heart thump strangely. She tore her gaze away, not knowing what else to do, wondering why she was feeling so strange. Her eyes inadvertently fell on his legs and she noted the big, dirty gash along his left thigh. It had bled a good deal and now the leg was covered with a layer of coagulated muck.
“You are injured,” she bent over to gain a better look at the wound. “That should be tended immediately.”
He looked down at his leg. He had very nearly forgotten about it. “I shall have it seen to.” It was an automatic response. Then it occurred to him that she should want to tend it; as his betrothed, it was expected of her. “But if you should like to attend me, my lady, I would be honored.”
She looked up at him and for the first time, he saw great uncertainty in her eyes. He’d seen nothing but complete confidence from this woman since the moment they met; therefore, the doubt was puzzling. “I fear… I fear that I would not do a very good job, my lord,” she said.
“Nonsense,” he stepped back and began unlatching his plate armor. “You will make a fine task of it.”
She moved away from him as his armor fell off, half-frightened, half-entranced. She had only ever seen him with his armor on and even as he removed it, it made little difference in his overall size. He had massive arms, muscular and tremendously powerful. His chest was enormous, his waist slender, and his legs were the size of tree trunks. Stripped down to his stained undershirt and heavy linen breeches, there was nothing about the man that did not reek of absolute strength and power. He was magnificent.
It took her a minute to realize she had stopped breathing. When she resumed, it came out as an odd gasp. He looked over at her, standing several feet away.
“Where would you like me to sit?” he asked.
She responded like a dolt. “Sit?”
He lifted his eyebrows at her. “Aye, sit. Or do you want me to stand while you sew this gash?”
She suddenly grimaced, an expression between agony and fear. “I… I have a confession, my lord. I pray that you do not think badly of me because of it.”
“Think badly of you? I doubt it. But what is it?”
She shoved her finger between her teeth as if that would help bring forth the words. “Oooo…!” then she shook her hands with frustration. “I cannot sew your gash. I have never been able to do such things. My uncle said I was absolutely useless and he is correct. Such things make me ill. I know it is foolish, but I cannot help it. I am truly sorry, my lord. You deserve a wife that will be brave and tend your wounds. But I… I cannot do it.”
He stood there a moment, staring at her. The room filled with a great shock of silence. Then, he erupted in snorts and giggles the likes of which Alixandrea had never heard from a man. He put his hands over his face briefly and when he pulled them away, his eyes were shining brightly at her.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “I was feeling so completely inferior to you because I was convinced that you were utterly perfect. From the top of your glorious head to the bottom of your feet, you are an angel incarnate. But now I see that you have one flaw, just one, and it pleases me like no other.”
She could not decide if she was flattered or insulted. She settled on flattery and smiled along with him. “I can do anything else for you, my lord, and surely will, but don’t ever ask me to sew a wound. I would rather die a thousand painful deaths.”
He was still snorting as he walked over to her and placed his trencher-sized hands on her head, cupping it. He gazed down into her lovely face, allowing himself to freely drink in the sight of her.
“Have no fear, my lady,” he said in a voice that sent chills racing up her spine. “I do not think any less of you. In fact, I think more.”
They were grinning at each other. Then, the grins slowly faded and something stronger took hold. Alixandrea’s head began to swim again as his blue eyes bore into her. There was something in the way they flickered.
Somehow, he seemed to be drifting closer. She could feel his breath on her face. Her body began to tingle painfully, anticipation of something she could not yet feel or taste or see. But just as he loomed in close, he suddenly pulled back. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, once, and he dropped his hands.
“Caroline will sew the wound,” he was walking away from her, leaving her weak and breathless. “In fact, she had probably heard all of this conversation.”
He put his hand on the latch and yanked the door open. Caroline almost fell into the room. Her embarrassed gaze moved between Matthew and Alixandrea, having been caught eavesdropping.
“All is well, my lady?” she asked Alixandrea timidly.
Matthew lifted a blond eyebrow at her. “You know that it is.” He gestured to his leg. “I require your assistance in tending this wound.”
Caroline did not even look at it; she was too busy trying to recover her composure. “I shall go and get my things. Will you wait here?”
“Alone, with the lady? How improper.”
Alixandrea hid a smile as Caroline blushed furiously.
“Enough of your torment, Matthew Wellesbourne,” she snapped weakly. “Another spiteful word and you can sew your wound yourself.”
His blue eyes twinkled. “How do you know that my lady will not tend it for me?”
Caroline opened her mouth, knowing the answer, but just as quickly knowing that she should not reveal it. To do so would be to admit she was listening to their conversation. In a huff, she quit the room. Matthew, smiling faintly, looked at Alixandrea and shrugged.
