Chapter 28

She sensed his resistance instantly as he stiffened and pulled his hand off. She knew it wasn't for the pain but his distaste to her touch.

"Hold on, please let me help you. The bleeding is awful. We have to bind your wound."

Studying his wound with a quick glance, he found her reasonable. He was seriously injured and needed immediate care. There's no point in denying her help.

"If you will allow me, it won't take long ..." she glanced up to see his reaction, but his expression was indecipherable. "May I ..." She reached his hand very carefully, fearing he would shrug her off at once.

He didn't. She wrapped and tied the handkerchief around his hand, a trickle of blood soaking the white fabric, but the bleeding had slowed down. She felt him watching silently, and she got a bit nervous. As soon as she finished the task, she pulled off and stepped back.

She seemed restless and regretful. Hiding his observation beneath a nonchalant gaze, Ashton studied her deceptive innocence. He could see she was desperate to say something. Finally she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm sorry, this is my fault... I hope after your hand recovered, you would still be able to paint as well as before."

Her words struck him like a sudden shaft of sunlight through a blinding darkness. Who was she to care about what matters to him? About something he had been very fond of. Nobody had ever cared about it. Nobody. Except his mother when she was alive. Again, she brought out the memory of his mother.

He had been very careful not to show his passion in art to anyone. He had been taught all his life that the art thing was sort of unmanly thing, that it was not for nobleman like him. And off course it would be forever relating him to his father. The greatest failure of their dynasty. So he simply did it discreetly, in his spare time.

There was a maddening silence and in a strange way it encouraged her to look into his eyes this time.

"You have gifted hands, it must be given for a reason. I believe you will be able to paint again and make a lot of great works."

For a moment, there is a certain stillness, even the leaves in the trees and the gentle breezes paused. Magic scattered from her eyes and he was adrift in their depth. Nowhere described where he was. It must be the moonlight cast its spell on him.

He turned back without saying a word, suddenly couldn't abide her gaze. He never felt something like this before. He walked with a glassy stare and a vague feeling. Hasty little footsteps came following him from behind.

"My horse is waiting nearby." He said without a backward glance. He didn't plan to leave her alone here. Another villain might come upon her.

Ava halted at his words. Did he mean to ride her home? Unbelievable. But surely she didn't want to walk alone after what had happened just a little time ago.

After a moment, an obsidian black stallion near a tall tree caught her eye. The duke took a halting step by the beautiful creature and stroked its head gently. Ava hesitated and stopped a distance away from him. He turned to see her.

"Come, I've just killed two men. If another harm befell you tonight, I would have committed a meaningless sin."

She hurried to the horse and tried to climb up. She failed at the first try, and she tried again. Suddenly she felt his hands grasping her waist from behind, the warmth of his skin penetrated through the thin fabric. He lifted her easily and seated her on the horseback. The next second, he already settled himself behind her, his hands entrapped her between as he held the bridle. He didn't want her to put her hands around him. He didn't want her to cling to his back.

"Hold on." He jerked the bridle and the horse started to move, but she had nothing to hold on to. Instantly she lost her balance as the horse started running in rapid speed. She nearly tumbled down but his arm encircled her waist immediately, keeping her from falling. The back of her head slammed his chest lightly. When she finally managed to keep herself steady, he released her. The horse ran through the dark. The cold wind hit her face and blew through her hair.

His weight against her back. His warmth and his scent surrounded her like a divine embrace. She closed her eyes to feel it more. His hands touched her accidentally sometimes, his heat kept her warm in the cold air and she breathed in his scent. Here, now, in the very moment, it was almost like they were sharing intimacy.

She had been with men before. It was certainly not the first time she had been so close to a man, but she never felt their whole existence, their very presence, as intensely as this time with him.

From the first time, he always elicited fear for her, and now she knew why. He was an angel of death, literally. He came and slayed his prey without mercy, without regret. Yet now beneath his wings, she was feeling completely safe. No harm in this world could ever touch her. She turned her head slightly and stole a glance at him.

They were riding in silence. None of them said a word ever since. From a distance, she caught sight of her little cottage. A warm light was glowing through the window. The horse slowed down, she was at the end of her journey.

The horse stopped by the fence. He descended first and helped her climbing down. She walked toward the door, feeling uncertain what to say. Suddenly she remembered she was wearing his coat. When she turned around, he was already on the horseback again.

"Your coat ..." she wasn't sure, should she offered to wash it first or just give it back to him.

"Just throw it away. I no longer want it."

Then without sparing her a glance, he stormed away in lightning speed and disappeared in the end of the road.

Ava was sitting on the edge of her bed this afternoon. Looking at the blood-stained coat in her hands, she felt an irresistible impulse to bring the fine material to her face and inhale deeply, breathing in his scent. She did it without a second thought. The particular scent of him blended with subtle male cologne filled her lungs and she closed her eyes. It was like she was in his embrace again this very moment.

The door swayed open, she opened her eyes abruptly and dropped the coat to her lap. Polly was entering her room. Glancing at the coat, Polly snatched it from her.

"What are we going to do with this? It surely would make good money in the flea market. Let me wash it first."

"No!" Ava rose quickly and snatched the coat back.

"I... I will wash it." She said the first thing on her mind when Polly frowned at her. Turning around, she pretended to fold the coat on the bed. Polly said nothing and left her. Relieved, she dropped herself to the bed again. After a while, she decided to hide the coat somewhere in her cupboard. There was a detectable trace of him in its threads, and for some curious reason, she wanted it to last as long as possible.

To her surprise, the last-night terror didn't haunt her very badly. Last night when she heard the sound of bone cracking, she thought she would never forget the ghastly sound for the rest of her life. But she recovered from the terror quite fast. Her mind was consumed with another thing.

Today, not a second passed without thinking of him. Would his wound recover completely? She wouldn't forgive herself if he could not be able to paint again. She really needed to know if he was doing fine. A crazy idea occurred to her. Certainly she couldn't see him at his manor, but she knew he still visited his studio. She would try to go there. If he wasn't there, she could come again tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and after, until she got a chance to see him. She just need to be sure that he was fine.

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