Two Years Ago: Change

Two Years Ago - Lana’s POV

It takes all of my will to move forward, stepping away from the man. My cheeks are flushed and I lift my hands, wrapping my arms across my chest.

‘Sir,’ I force a smile, but my heart feels as though it’s in my soggy boots.

‘Miss Lana,’ he pauses where he is before dropping his hands to his sides, ‘my apologies, I hadn’t meant to intrude so easily on your personal space,’ he flexes his fingers, as though resisting the urge to reach out towards me again. But thankfully he keeps his distance. He looks around before taking action. He crosses the room, opening a pair of low cupboard doors under the bed.

‘It’s uh…’ I swallow and glance at the door. The door he so ominously locked.

‘I wanted that chance to speak with you,’ he admits as he peers into the darkness, standing up a few minutes later with a pile of blankets balanced on his arm, a candle held in his other hand. He approaches, cautious. As though afraid I’m going to run. I might.

Aside from the bed and the fireplace, there isn’t a lot of furniture in the small room. Opposite the door is a window, the bed runs along the right hand side of the room. Next to the fireplace on one side is a table with a pitcher of water and a bowl. Other than that there are two chairs, one on the other side of the fireplace, one tucked against the table. I haven't spent a lot of time in barracks rooms, but they’re pretty much identical.

Thade offers me the pile of blankets and curious, I accept. They tumble into my arms and I watch as he bends towards the fireplace next, setting the candle wick alight. He crosses the room, lighting other small candles around the space, glancing back at me every so often. Once he’s done, he pushes his hand through the short hair at the back of his head.

‘You must be uncomfortable…’ he encourages with a glance at the blankets, ‘I’ll turn away,’ he promises and I scowl. He’s a stranger. I have no reason to trust him. Worse than not trusting him, I don’t trust myself. My hands are still shaking and I look down at the warm wool. I’m so cold, I must be turning blue under my dress.

‘You could leave,’ I suggest softly, voice trembling.

He grimaces then and looks down at his hands, ‘if I leave, I’m…afraid you’ll lock the door behind me and never let me back,’ he admits and I pause again. It should be dangerous, him being here. I bit my bottom lip, shivering in my indecision.

‘I’ll let you back in,’ I lift my chin and he looks back at me.

‘Alright,’ the answer is reluctant, slow, ‘I’ll wait just outside, then we talk?’

I nod quickly and he turns, reaching for the door. It’s then that I groan, frustrated, ‘stop.’

He looks back, brow lifted and I sigh.

‘Someone might see you,’ I explain, ‘waiting outside my door.’

‘You have a reputation to keep.’ He tilts his head to the side before nodding. He turns back once more, staring at the door. ‘I won’t watch.’

I wait, counting beneath my breath as he remains motionless, his back to me. But the rain thats pooled in my clothes is puddling around my feet and I turn my back to him. I bend, struggling with the cord of my dress that doesn’t want to be unfastened. In my hurry, I end up snapping the tie. I just want this over with. With the bow unfastened I can ease the two halves of the front apart and pull the soft blue wool from my shoulders. My breath is rapid and I’m far too aware of the man standing not too far behind me. I shouldn’t be doing this. But there were no good choices. Other than telling him to leave and never letting him back.

With my outer dress dropped to the floor I pull my light grey under shift up, over my head. I throw it over the back of the chair and wrap one of the blankets around my body, tucking it under my arms. Then I pull a second over my shoulders. I scrabble around, grabbing my wool dress and trying to hang it up.

‘Do you want some help with that?’

‘You’re not supposed to be watching,’ I glare back at him, but he’s already closed the distance between us. I edge back as he pulls the dress from my frozen fingers and hangs it from a hook above the fire.

‘I wasn’t,’ he looks down at me, his arm stretched up over my head. I’m dominated by the smell of him again. He’s still half naked and close enough to touch. I want to run my tongue down the centre of his body, dipping it into the grooves between the muscles and my face is burning.

‘Then how did you know I needed help?’ I try deflection. Questions have always been my way of staying safe and keeping people at a distance.

I can’t hide this desire from him. Not when I can see what our proximity is doing to him. It’s a bulge, pressing against his breaches as he sways, dropping his hand from the hook to take hold of my second blanket. He bites his bottom lip before gently, pulling the blankets closer together holding them gently in place over my chest. I grip the fabric, eyes closed as he slides his fingers against the back of my neck and with a gentle sweep, pulls free my hair from my back.

‘I heard you scrabbling,’ he admits and his fingers move over my shoulder, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, ‘and I took the opportunity to get close to you again,’ he admits.

‘Are you always so honest?’

‘Yes,’ he nods and strokes the skin of my jaw. Bolts of lightning run through my skin and I look down, unable to look him in the eye any longer. ‘Do you always ask so many questions?’

‘Yes,’ I smile a little, but it feels strange. As though my whole mind is swimming in treacle. It’s hard to keep my thoughts together when he’s standing so close, ‘I’m an official pain in the backside of the Lord Provost.’

I can feel his smile in return and I shuffle, head bowed. Squelching in my boots. He bends at the hip, staring at my feet before shaking his head.

‘Lana, sit down,’ it’s an order and my legs want to drop out from beneath me. Eager to obey. He laughs, the sound soft and low, rumbling through his chest as he guides me towards the empty chair and encourages me to sit. I drop with a bump, watching, curious and slightly horrified as he kneels before me. The fire on his right hand side. The flame light dances against his chin. He’s broken his nose once before, it’s slightly misaligned.

‘Are you always so bossy?’ I wonder, holding back my question about his nose. I don’t want him to imagine, for a second, that I think he’s anything less than perfect.

‘Only when I need to be,’ he reaches out then and picks up my waterlogged boot, with the foot trapped within. He glances up at me and takes hold of the laces. He’s teasing me, pulling the thread taut until it catches, holding my gaze before pulling the lace free. I squirm. The very recent memory of him unfastening my dress, forever burned in my mind.

‘What are you doing?’ It’s a stupid question and it comes out breathless, but I need some way to ground myself as he eases the boot away from my stockinged foot and then peels away the sodden wool, freeing my skin. He cups my foot in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs at the joins of my toes.

‘I’m making sure you look after yourself,’ he replies, looking back at me. ‘You were frozen, and you didn’t even take off your boots. Let’s get you warmed up.’

‘You interrupted me,’ I protest, weak as he places my bare foot on his thigh, kneeling before me now.

‘So I did…’ he looks down as he works this time. Unfastening the lace and freeing my foot from the boot. His actions are methodical, precise as he sets my boots to dry beside the fire. Leaving my feet perched on his thighs. ‘But I don’t think you mind that, do you?’ He looks up again, his grey eyes look like stars beside the fire and I hold my breath. I should mind it. I should send him away. But he wraps his large hands around my ankles and slowly eases them up my bare legs.

‘I -...’ I struggle for words, I should send you away. I think it, rapidly, panicked and certain that it’s what I should do. I should send you away… But I can’t force myself to say it.

‘I’ll look after you Lana.’