“God’s blood!” She yelped in pain. A further series of imaginative curses, which probably shouldn’t have sounded quite so well practiced, followed her outburst. With eyes firmly shut she willed the throbbing pain in her leg to disperse and then nearly shrieked in alarm when an unknown voice asked,
“Are you all right?”
“Do I look all right?” She snapped back bad-temperedly, her embarrassment at being discovered igniting immediately into annoyance. From her splayed position across the frozen ground she glared up into a pair of amused green eyes.
Or at least she thought they were green. Even with her eyes now open she was unable to fully be sure. They would definitely be amused though if the rich baritone of his voice was any indication. She had gotten quite good in recent years at reading people’s tone. Her eyesight had deteriorated since childhood, and unless she was right on top of something or someone they were now a simply a blur of colour and movement. Explanation enough perhaps for why she was at this moment sprawled inelegantly across the ice-covered ground.
Drat. She should have realised the previous day’s rain would have turned to ice after the freezing fog had rolled off the mountains. And double drat for she realised that she would probably need to ask this man for help. Yet she held her tongue stubbornly refusing to do so.
“Could I be of any assistance?” He asked as if noticing her inner conflict. He sounded undoubtedly sincere, but still she shook her head defiantly, her voice as wintry as the weather.
“I am quite capable thank you.” It was her mantra she supposed. The words she used to motivate herself when in difficulty. She didn’t want and certainly didn’t ask for pity or assistance from anybody.
Once he had gone she could crawl or stumble or do whatever her bruised body would allow, but she didn’t need an audience for that. So it was with some disbelief that she realised that he had sat down beside her on the freezing ground. Turning her head to him she frowned, hoping that he’d understand and leave her to nurse her wounded leg and pride in peace. Instead he simply smiled and said nonchalantly,
“I hope you don’t mind. The view is excellent from down here.” Gritting her teeth she tried not to show how much this man irritated her. Her fingers and toes were beginning to tingle from their contact with the cold earth and she felt her muscles stiffening in weary protest. Shuffling a bit she tried to covertly put some weight on her leg, grimacing to herself as pain blazed a trail up the limb. She needed to get up and in order to do that she was going to need his help. Curses. Wrestling with her pride and the pain she eventually ground out,
“I can get up but I’m going to need something to lean on. Perhaps if you could kindly shift that rock a little closer it might help.” She felt him stand up and then the next thing she knew he was putting his arms around her body and lifting her. She opened her mouth to object but he simply chuckled and said,
“This is much easier for the both of us. I couldn’t move that rock and you couldn’t get up. So let’s not argue about it.” She stiffened in his arms,
“I am quite capable -”
“- So you said before.” He cut in to her heated protest with quiet firmness. “But you’ve hurt your leg, and I don’t think you understand how serious it is.” Alarm sparked within her and she tried to look down at her legs, but she couldn’t see past the muddle of her woollen gown. It hurt like the devil but she couldn’t tell and certainly couldn’t see from this angle how badly injured she was.
Realisation sparked that this man must be a stranger to her, someone who didn’t know of her affliction, for he had not said that she couldn’t see how serious it was. He had thought her simply stubborn and stupid, not stubborn and practically blind. A tiny flicker of remorse made her chew at her bottom lip. She could be rude and abrasive when she thought people were coddling her for the sake of her condition. He had after all only been trying to help. She softened slightly allowing herself to relax in the comfort of his arms.
She decided against making an explanation that would excuse her lack of awareness. She wished to preserve for as long as possible this semblance of normality. To be treated as others would be was rare indeed and she savoured it. Just as she was also savouring the secure feeling of his arms around her. He made light work of their journey, though she was certainly no waif, and he walked with a calm surety, his thick boots providing a stable purchase for them both on the slippery surface.
“Thank you.” She murmured apologetically. He glanced down at her and as he did so the features of his face finally became defined. Christ’s wounds he most definitely had green eyes. If she were a poet she would write songs about those eyes. She blinked suddenly feeling reticent under his gentle appraisal. She saw now the signs of that amusement writ upon his face, but she also saw masked concern. Concern for her? She waited for the familiar flutter of irritation but alongside it she felt a flutter of something entirely different. Embarrassment and annoyance combined to flush sudden heat across her cheeks under his steady gaze.
These images were borrowed from the incredibly pretty and inspiration-full
crafting blog Mollie Makes.
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