At first, she wanted to turn around and leave the room immediately. But then, it seemed like he had tried to preserve some form of modesty, pulling his arm out of the sleeve so she could reach the injured side without any issues, whilst keeping the other side of his chest and torso covered still.
From where Penelope stood, it was apparent how… fit and strong Cecil was. His muscles looked as though they had been chiseled out of marble. They twitched under her stare, and she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through every ridge and bump along his skin —
“Any day would be excellent, Lady Penelope.”
His voice jolted her back to her senses, and Penelope sat next to him gingerly. But now that she was there, she did not know what to do next.
“May I, Your Grace?”
Cecil eyed her warily, looking as though he was uncertain; she could help him — a sentiment they shared. Eventually, he turned around to face her fully, giving her a good view of his shoulder.
Penelope leaned closer to observe it, all too aware of his watchful gaze following her every move. The skin had turned blue with a red tint around the edges, and there was a slight swelling as well. There were no signs of a dislocation, for which she was thankful.
It really did look quite painful, but Cecil appeared mostly annoyed by the occurrence than hurt.
Penelope put some ice into the cloth she had been given, then gently held it against the swollen skin, lightly dabbing the compress to the bruise now and then. Cecil silently let her do what she wanted, sitting perfectly still.
His skin felt warm beneath her fingers, and this close, she was getting dizzy as she inhaled the spicy musk that clung to his hair and clothes.
It took her a moment to find the words, but eventually, she told him,
“I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you. It really was an accident.”
Cecil hummed, shifting his disbelieving gaze to her.
“I do not believe so. After all, I’d been teasing you about your abhorrent skills all morning —”
“My skills aren’t that bad!” Penelope protested with a warm flush flowing through her cheeks.
“They were bad enough to result in my injury. And I think you did this on purpose.”
“I did not,” Penelope huffed, removing the compress to lightly tap against the bruise, carefully checking for signs of a dislocation. “And I really am sorry.”
He regarded her warily for a moment, then he grinned and nodded.
“It is quite all right. I still have my hand. We might have had to consider drastic negotiations for peace if you’d managed to do some real damage to my shoulder. And I appreciate your assistance — by urging me in Lady Heather’s direction. But she seems like the sort who would need me to be more than I am ready to be in her stead. I am in need of a self-sufficient wife, not one who would rely on me to be her backbone. There is a lot I can compromise for but that is not one of those.”
Penelope was slightly surprised he had even spoken to Lady Heather at all, given how intent he had been to follow her around that morning. But it was also strange how hung up he was over things that seemed insignificant, despite his need to find a wife as soon as possible.
“Why are you doing this? Treating marriage like some sort of transaction? As you are, you could have any woman you want. You have a new title and great fortune. Additionally, you are quite… charming.”
Penelope paused to clear her throat, irritated that she had to admit as much, but even more upset that it was true.
“So why do you insist on making things difficult by complicating matters? You could find a proper match the proper way if you were not so intent on viewing it as merely a transaction.”
“My views on marriage are in place because that is what marriage is. Two parties unite over what can be mutually gained by both of them. That is how it is everywhere with everyone, no matter how noble they wish to paint their intentions.” Cecil stated simply.
Penelope pursed her lips, trying not to outwardly admit she was in agreement. After all, she would not have given up on finding a match if she had not felt that way.
Without another word, she attempted to focus her attention on Cecil’s injury, but she was distracted by his probing a moment later.
“I chased after you all morning because I wanted to apologize, but now I would rather understand why you are so upset. Did my words — and actions last night make you feel insulted because you thought your virtue was threatened? Or did you perhaps feel a slight hint of what I was talking about?” he asked coyly.
Penelope did not answer, but her cheeks grew rather hot at an alarming speed, and she knew he would notice. He did, and continued to speak with a smirk.
“Lust is one of the most basic emotions we are entitled to as humans. Everyone should experience it. And with me, you at least know that you’re guaranteed to safely explore the bounds of it. As I am well versed on the subject, you can trust that I know what I am doing and I can help you. Speaking of — did you follow my advice?”
Penelope’s face felt so hot, she thought the skin might melt off. Summoning an ounce of composure, she told him stiffly,
