Imperative (Ever After Fic) - Part I
Imperative
by Ancasta
Part I
All you have to do is take a step. Just one step. Then another. And another. Focus on that. That one simple thing. And you’ll make it.
Weaving drunkenly amidst the thick brush and trees, Jensen repeated that instruction to himself, over and over again.
Step. Keep taking a step.
He ignored the blood leaking from his side, the sweat trickling down to sting his eyes, the marrow deep fatigue that made it feel as if his boots had turned from leather to lead.
Keep going. You’ve got to keep going.
And he did, one hand pressed to his wound, the other braced against whatever he could find to keep his balance. Further and further into the dense, shadowy wood he plodded and tripped, his throat so dry it ached, his lungs burning, his head bowed.
Until a twisted tree root tangled around his ankle, grabbing hold like gnarled fingers reaching up from beneath the earth to drag him down…
…and he fell hard, crying out, eyes squeezed shut in misery.
Oh God. OhGodohGodithurt!
Unable to catch his breath, Jensen lay there, curled in on himself, his legs restless, kicking and scrabbling, yet unable to find the means to stand.
He could hear something moving through the bushes.
No. No, no, no. His life couldn’t end like this, thrashing on the ground like a beached fish, waiting to either bleed to death or be eaten by some hungry forest creature. He couldn’t trust his message had made it through. He had to make certain the king knew of Avery’s treachery and the treasure Avery claimed his master held. He had to return home, had to warn the court, had to…to…
Only his head was fuzzy with pain and weariness, and his limbs no longer seemed able to follow his commands. It was all he could do to roll over onto his back, forcing himself to face what was to come. Lying there, woozy and weak, Jensen blinked until his watery vision cleared. What he saw was unexpected.
A man, young like him, with shaggy brown hair and a wrinkled brow. He looked down at Jensen from what appeared to be a great height. From what Jensen could see, he carried no weapon, save for a walking stick.
“Who are you?” the giant asked. “What are you doing here?”
It took a moment before Jensen could answer, his lips and tongue being as uncooperative as every other part of him. Finally he rasped out, “I’m lost.”
The other man’s expression eased a bit. He smiled softly, knelt down and placed his hand on Jensen’s arm. “Good thing I found you then.”
Jensen nodded, intending to agree. But before he could, a great rush of heat poured through him from his chest up to his head, his eyes closed, and the world went away.
He didn’t even have time to tell his would-be rescuer good-bye.
*
When Jensen awoke, he was staring into a pair of slanted, jade-colored eyes.
They belonged to the well-fed tabby sitting on his chest.
“Tabitha! Off! He’s our guest and he’s recuperating. Go bother one of the dogs. Go on--shoo!”
With a trilling chirp as if to acknowledge the rebuke, the cat did as she was told. Jensen turned his head to watch her go and found himself looking up once more at the man from the forest. He was standing beside Jensen’s bed, rumpled and pale with what Jensen thought might be exhaustion, stubble darkening his jaw. He was carrying an earthenware cup.
“How are you feeling?” the man asked, lifting Jensen’s head so he could drink. The water felt cool and soothing going down.
“Better than you look,” Jensen said once he’d drunk his fill, his voice threadbare as worn cloth.
Easing Jensen down again, the man set the cup on the table beside the bed and smiled. “What can I say? You’re a very demanding patient.”
“Lucky I have such a gifted healer.” Even as Jensen spoke the words, he knew them to be true. “Thank you for saving my life.”
The man glanced away as if embarrassed, and ran his hand over his messy hair. “Well I couldn’t very well ignore you when you’d fainted away practically on my doorstep.”
Curious to know exactly where that doorstep might lead, Jensen took in his surroundings. He saw he was in a small, tidy cottage-whitewashed walls, thatched roof. The furniture was more functional than ornamental and there was little of what his friends at court would consider art or beauty. Yet there was a jug of wildflowers framed in an open window and bundles of herbs drying from the rafters, which lent a pleasing scent to the air. A cheery blaze crackled in the wide stone hearth, heating a pot suspended over the flames. Two large brown dogs napped beside the fire, one resting its chin on the other’s hip. The place had a feeling of peace and security about it. Without fully understanding why, Jensen knew he was safe.
“Where are we?” he asked.
The man looked surprised by the question. “My home.”
“Yes, I know,” Jensen said. “But where is that?” Growing frustrated with his helplessness, he tried to push himself up into a seated position; the man hurried to help. Although he was careful as he rearranged Jensen against the pillows, Jensen’s head swam and his wound protested. Still, the pain was manageable. While that seemed to Jensen a good thing, he couldn’t help but wonder how long he must have been out.
“We’re in the Great Forest, near Whispering Falls,” the man said once Jensen was propped higher than he’d been before.
"I've never heard of such a place," Jensen said. "Is it near Westerly?"
The man shook his head. "The kingdom is more than two days' journey away."
Two days. So close and yet so far. “I need to return to Westerly as soon as possible,” Jensen said, stretching out his hand to grab hold of the man’s sleeve. “My name is Jensen of Westerly. I work for King Lawrence and have vital news I must share with him.”
“I’ll see you get home as soon as you’re able,” the man said, gently loosening Jensen’s fingers from his shirt. He gave Jensen’s hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. “But that won’t be today.”
“You don’t understand-“ Jensen began, even though he was beginning to feel heavy-headed and his vision seemed dimmer than before.
“Oh, but I do,” the man told him, his tone light, yet the set of his jaw suggested he wouldn’t be swayed, no matter how persuasive Jensen’s argument. “I understand you were stabbed by someone intent on doing you great harm. What you don’t seem to realize is you lost quite a bit of blood before finding your way to my part of the forest. I worked long and hard to save your life, and I won’t have my efforts undermined, not even by you.”
“But I have to-“ Jensen tried again, though it was hard to express how urgently he needed to leave when suddenly all he seemed able to do was close his eyes.
“You need rest, not travel,” the man said, clearly unimpressed by Jensen’s protestations. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk more when you wake.”
Recognizing this was one battle he wasn’t going to win-at least not on that day-Jensen decided it would be wiser to surrender, both to sleep and to the stranger’s demands. But before he did, he had one important question to ask.
“Who are you?” he asked, his lashes growing heavier by the moment.
“Me?” the man asked. “No one. No one at all.”
“Tell me your name,” Jensen said with the last bit of his energy.
A shiver seemed to course through the man from head to toe and something flickered, quick and bright, in his eyes. “Jared,” the man said. “My name is Jared.”
*
“How did you find me?” Jensen asked the next time he awoke.
Jared was at the hearth, dishing up what he’d told Jensen was rabbit stew. He looked better rested than the last time Jensen had laid eyes on him, though he still hadn’t shaved. “I was out walking with my dogs and heard something,” Jared said, putting the bowl on a tray. “That ‘something’ turned out to be you.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said when Jared had brought the tray to him. Accompanying the bowl was a piece of brown bread and another cup of water. “How long have I been here?” Jensen had slept for hours. He could tell by the room’s shadows the sun was low in the sky. But he honestly didn’t know if one day had passed or two.
“I found you yesterday morning,” Jared said, returning to the hearth. He glanced out the open window as if for confirmation. “It’s almost eventide now.”
Jensen nodded and, dug into the bowl in front of him. His stomach was rumbling in anticipation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. “Are you a physician?”
Jared seated himself at a table opposite the bed to eat his own meal. His dogs followed closely behind, and positioned themselves on either side of his chair, ears pricked forward in hopes of a treat. “Me? No, I’m no physician. I have some skill with herbs and folk remedies. But that’s all.”
“What do you do then?” Jensen asked, his curiosity piqued. He’d awakened from his nap still tired and sore, yet more alert than he’d been earlier. He wanted to know more about his rescuer.
Jared considered the question, chewing his food carefully before answering. “A little bit of a lot of things, I suppose,” he said at last, avoiding Jensen’s eyes.
“Like what?”
Jared shrugged. “I tend a plot of land where I grow vegetables. I sell what I can’t use, along with apples from the trees out back and berries from a patch nearby.”
“So you’re a farmer,” Jensen said before taking a sip of water. He was enjoying the simple repast. The stew was good, the meat tender and well-seasoned.
“In part,” Jared replied. “I also sell tinctures I’ve mixed for everything from sleeplessness to aching joints, as well as any extra eggs or milk. I get by.”
“Do you sell these things at a market?” Jensen asked. When Jared nodded, Jensen continued, “Are you saying there’s a village nearby?”
“Not too far,” Jared said, pressing to his feet, his now empty bowl in hand. “When I take the wagon, I can normally make it there in hour, maybe a little less.” He deposited his bowl in the sink before crossing to the fireplace.
“An hour?” Jensen echoed. He must have wandered farther into the woods than he’d originally thought. “Do you have any neighbors?”
Leaning in to light a piece of reed, Jared glanced his way, seemingly a bit uncomfortable with Jensen’s line of questioning. “None to speak of, no.”
“And you live all alone?” It seemed strange to Jensen that a healthy young man would choose to live as a hermit.
Jared began lighting the room’s candles. “I’m not alone. I’ve got Clarence and Daisy here.” He gestured to the dogs. “And you’ve met Tabitha. Though you were probably too groggy at the time for her to have made much of an impression.”
“She has pretty eyes,” Jensen said in an effort to be polite.
Jared beamed, tossing the reed into the fire now that his chore was complete. “She does, doesn’t she? And there’s Belle-that’s my cow-and Monty the mule. And of course Mary, Jessie, Sally, Clara, Alice and Jane-those are my chickens-and their rooster, Rex.”
“But no people?” Jensen asked, already fairly certain of the answer, but afraid that if he didn’t derail this line of conversation he’d soon learn Jared had also taken it upon himself to name the fireflies flickering outside their window.
Jared’s face fell. “Oh…no. No people,” he said. Ducking his head with what looked like embarrassment, he walked back over to the table and began clearing it. “Not since my father died. If it’s people you’re talking about, then yes-I live alone.”
Jensen could have kicked himself. He’d only been trying to make conversation. He hadn’t meant to call attention to his host’s loss. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize about your father. I just…I didn’t know.”
Jared looked up and smiled again, this time small and vaguely sad. “It’s all right.”
“Has he been gone long?” Jensen asked when Jared came to take the tray away.
“A little over a year,” Jared said, putting the dishes with the others in the sink. He looked back at Jensen before admitting, “I miss him very much.”
“Mine has been gone almost six months,” Jensen said, wanting to somehow put the other man at ease, to take away a little of the hurt he’d inadvertently caused. “Yet I sometimes talk to him as if he were standing right there beside me. It’s natural to mourn a loss like that. I don’t know that a person ever truly gets over it.”
Jared nodded, something in his eyes telling Jensen he appreciated the sentiment. “What did your father do?”
“He also worked for the king,” Jensen said, with a faint smile. “Only at a far more senior level. He was Lord High Steward . I’m merely a junior member of the king’s diplomatic corp.”
“Lord High Steward?” Jared said with a kind of dismay. “Am I speaking to a member of the nobility?”
“A very lowly member,” Jensen assured him. “My father earned his position by his intelligence and sound counsel, not by opening the family coffers.”
“I’d never suggest otherwise.” Jared came to sit in a chair beside the bed. “Still, senior advisor to the king? That’s…rather glamorous.”
“Not really,” Jensen said with a smile. “’Glamorous’ better describes the lords and ladies of the court who strut down castle corridors like gilded peacocks. My father was of more common plumage. He was at there to work; the same is true for me.”
“What happened to him?” Jared asked, before quickly adding, “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Jensen shook his head, his lips pressed thin. “The details are rather sketchy. He was sent as the king’s envoy to Eastwind to discuss an end to hostilities. Our two lands have been at odds for nearly a decade. Father traveled there by sea and was a guest of King Frederick’s court for weeks, along with a small contingent of King Lawrence’s men. We’d received word talks were going well. Then, on the way home, his ship mysteriously vanished. Eastwind claimed bad weather was to blame. But while it was true there was rain on the day the ship set sail, there was no storm, nothing that should have caused a seaworthy vessel to sink.”
“Do you think sabotage is to blame?” Jared asked, leaning forward in his seat, his elbows braced on his knees.
“I don’t know what to think,” Jensen admitted. “All I know is my father went to Eastwind and he didn’t come back. Anything else is mere conjecture.” He didn’t mention Avery’s duplicity or his own frantic flight from Eastwind. It was too soon and the pain of betrayal was too great.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said.
“So am I,” Jensen replied. Thinking to change the subject, he then asked, “What about your father?”
“What about him?” Jared asked, cocking his head.
Jared seemed guarded, but not upset. So Jensen dared to push just a bit further. “How did he pass?”
“Illness,” Jared said, pushing to stand. “A fever that wouldn’t break.” He looked away then, but not quickly enough to hide his grief. “There was nothing I could do to save him.”
“It must be difficult to watch someone you love drift away,” Jensen said, his voice quiet and low.
“No more so than never having the chance to say goodbye,” Jared said, his words just as soft. His gaze met Jensen’s once more.
Jensen smiled and nodded. He couldn’t argue with that.
Jared smiled back, the lift of his lips slight. He took a step closer to the bed, his hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t stay up too much longer. You need your rest.”
“I am feeling a little sleepy,” Jensen admitted. “I figured my full belly was the cause. You’re a good cook.”
“It’s nice to have someone to share a meal with for a change,” Jared said. “But I doubt my stew is to blame. More likely your body is simply trying to heal. You’ll need to get used to that. You’re probably going to be more tired than usual the next week or two.”
“The next week or two?” Jensen echoed, scowling. “I don’t have that kind of time. I was lucky enough to send off a message before I was attacked. But I can’t trust on that alone. I need to get back to Westerly.”
“So you’ve said.” Jared seemed unimpressed by Jensen’s impatience. “But your body will heal at its own pace. Trying to hasten things will only result in you passing out halfway through your journey home.”
Jensen took a moment, trying to come up with a counter-argument. Yet in the end, he grumbled, “I hate that you’re right.”
Jared chuckled. “Why do I think it’s more a question of you hating to be wrong?”
That coaxed from Jensen a reluctant smile.
“Come on,” Jared said. “Let me take a look at your injury before you turn in for the night.”
With Jared’s help, Jensen stretched out on the bed and pulled his nightshirt up over his head. He lay there naked, a blanket providing modesty from his waist to his toes. Looking down, Jensen saw a square bandage held in place by a piece of sheeting wrapped around his middle. When Jared lifted it, a puncture wound of perhaps an inch or two in length came into view, positioned just beneath his ribs. A line of small, neat stitches held it closed.
“Not too bad,” Jared said, head bowed as he felt carefully around the edges of the injury. “There’s a bit of seepage, but not too much. The skin is pink and doesn’t seem over-hot. As long as we can keep this from getting infected, you should heal up just fine.”
“How do we do that?” Jensen murmured.
Jared lifted his head and grinned at him. He had a nice smile, Jensen realized, lots of straight, white teeth and two deep dimples. “I mix up one of my famous bread and milk poultices and apply it to your wound. You close your eyes and get the rest I keep nagging you about.”
“I’ve noticed the nagging,” Jensen said, a slow smile stretching his own lips.
“I make no apologies,” Jared said, sitting back in his seat.
“An excellent way for a man to live his life,” Jensen commented before a deep yawn took him by surprise. His eyes grew large as he tried-and failed-to control it.
Jared burst out laughing, and pressed to his feet. “I’ll hurry up with that poultice.”
Sleepy and oddly content, Jensen watched him as he got to work. “Where did you learn to do all this?”
“Do all what?”
“The herbs and the stitching and the ‘famous poultices’. Who taught you?”
Stand at the table, mashing together what was left of their bread with some milk, Jared hesitated for a moment. “No one you’d know.”
Jensen lifted his brows. “What’s the big secret?”
“There’s no secret,” Jared said, mixing his concoction now with a vengeance, his eyes avoiding Jensen’s.
“So tell me,” Jensen said. “Who taught you to heal?”
Jared stopped again, standing very still, then said, “My father. He’s the one who taught me.”
“Your father?” Jensen said, surprised. Why would a physician live out in the middle of nowhere? Other people were his very livelihood. “Was he a physician?”
“Yes,” Jared said, returning to Jensen’s bedside with the bowl of poultice and a clean bandage.
“The gift of healing is hereditary,” Jensen said, frowning. “If your father was a physician, you should be too.”
Jared sat on the bed, facing Jensen, and set his supplies close at hand. “I’m nothing like my father, trust me. If I were, I could have saved him. It’s as I told you, I know my way around herbs and basic care. But being able to work with energy, the life force-I’m pretty much useless.”
“Weird,” Jensen murmured, watching as Jared began packing the poultice over his wound. “I’ve never heard of it skipping a generation before.”
“Guess I’m just special,” Jared muttered, his eyes on his work.
Though he’d never say the words out loud, Jensen agreed. Jared was indeed a rare breed, not only because of his strange and lonely lifestyle, but because he’d been willing to help Jensen, no questions asked, no payment required. Jensen knew there were plenty of others out there who, if they’d found him, lying there defenseless, would have happily stolen anything of value before leaving him to die.
“That should do it,” Jared said, tying the strip of sheeting back over the bandage. “We’ll leave the poultice in place overnight and see how everything looks in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Jensen said. “Again.” He smiled, a little embarrassed. He wasn’t used to feeling beholden in such a way.
Jared smiled back, seemingly pleased. “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.”
Swallowing another yawn, Jensen nodded. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
Jensen suspected he would have no other kind. Resting snug in Jared’s cozy little cottage, Jared reading beside the fire, his dogs napping at his feet, nightmares seemed another world away.
*
When Jensen woke the next morning, he found Jared seated in a patch of sunshine created courtesy of the cottage’s open door. The day was warm, the sky a brilliant blue. Jared’s eyes were closed, his face lifted towards the sun.
“What are you doing?” Jensen asked, knuckling the sleep away, his voice rough with sleep.
“Meditating,” Jared answered, his eyes yet closed.
“Like a monk?” Jensen asked.
“Like me,” Jared replied.
“Why?” Jensen asked, utterly perplexed.
With a sigh, Jared opened his eyes and glanced in Jensen’s direction, a kind of resigned amusement on his face. “It makes me feel better.”
“Is there a problem?” Jensen asked, feeling a little guilty for thinking he was the only one unwell. After all, Jared had worn himself out caring for Jensen that first night, and had been sleeping on a pallet on the floor ever since. “Are you feeling ill?”
“I’m fine,” Jared said as if surprised by Jensen’s question.
“Are you sure?” Jensen asked, pressing.
“Yes, I am.” Jared got to his feet. “There’s no problem, so you can quit your worrying. Now, what would you like to eat this morning?”
Very well, Jensen thought. If Jared wanted to change the subject, Jensen would respect his wishes and do just that. Sitting in the sun with his eyes closed, thinking deep thoughts, wasn’t exactly hurting anyone. What else was a man supposed to do out here all on his own anyway? Jensen would simply consider the behavior another of Jared’s eccentricities.
It just added to his mystery.
After taking care of his body’s needs and eating a breakfast made up of bread and cheese with slices of apples, Jensen sucked a bit of sticky apple juice from between his fingers before announcing, “I need a bath.”
At court, Jensen’s fixation on cleanliness was looked at as its own sort of eccentricity, but it was something for which he refused to make excuses, even in this more rustic setting.
“A bath?” Jared echoed from the floor, where he was playing with his dogs. Tabitha sat on the sill nearby, spectator to their antics.
“Please, God. Yes,” Jensen replied with a sigh. “It’s been days since I’ve had a proper wash. I stink. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, because I certainly have.”
“This isn’t some perfumed antechamber, you know,” Jared said, pushing to his feet, a smile tugging on his lips. “This is the country. I’ve smelled far worse.”
“I’m not concerned about your delicate sensibilities,” Jensen grumbled. “I’m concerned about my own. I’d give anything for a tub of warm water and a sliver of soap.”
“Anything, huh?” Jared said, his smile growing larger. He crossed to the row of cupboards against the far wall, Clarence and Daisy trotting along after him. Kneeling down, and shooing away his two canine companions, he ducked his head and began rummaging through one of them. “Count yourself lucky I don’t take you at your word.”
“What do you mean?” Jensen asked, watching the other man’s shoulders flex as he searched. Jared had decided to shave that morning. Smooth-cheeked, his good looks were shown off to even greater effect. Jensen approved.
“I mean I may not have an actual bathtub,” Jared said, the upper half of his body now inside the cupboard. Jared’s new position improved Jensen’s view. “But I should have the next best thing.” With a triumphant “Ah ha!”, he withdrew a large ceramic bowl and square of something wrapped in toweling.
“That wouldn’t be a bar of soap you have there, would it?” Jensen asked, excited by the possibility.
“It would actually,” Jared said, standing and setting both on the table. “Now, if you’ll give me just a minute to heat up some water, you’ll get that wash you’ve been pining for.” Picking up a bucket from the counter, he headed for the door.
“If I could get out of this bed on my own, I’d march right over there and kiss you for this,” Jensen called after him.
Jared paused in the doorway and looked in Jensen’s direction. He seemed flustered, his smile flickering away then back on again. “That…um…that won’t be necessary. But thanks. Just wait here. I’ll-I’ll be right back.”
Jensen watched him leave, intrigued by Jared’s reaction. He’d only meant the comment playfully. But it seemed as if Jared took it a bit more at face value. Jensen wondered if Jared’s obvious discomfort was due to disgust or to embarrassment.
Or maybe even to an interest of his own.
Jensen was very intrigued to discover which.
True to his word, Jared didn’t take long. Before Jensen could even begin to fidget, he returned with first one bucket, then another.
“I’m sure you’ll want plenty of water to wash and rinse,” he said by way of explanation.
Emptying both buckets into a clean pot, he stirred the embers glowing orange in the hearth and built a new fire, hanging the water over it to heat.
“Come on,” he said, once that was done. “Let’s get you ready.”
His arm around Jensen’s back to guide his every move, Jared helped him ease away from against the pillows.
“Slowly now. That’s it. Just swing your legs to the side. One at a time. There’s no rush.”
Clinging to Jared’s free hand as if he feared collapsing should the support be withdrawn, Jensen followed Jared’s instructions. Yet the simple movement was harder than it should have been, tiring, and if he moved too quickly or too far, the skin around his wound pulled and burned. Still, with the two of them working together, it didn’t take long before he was seated on the side of the bed, his feet on the floor.
“Good job,” Jared said, hanging on to him still. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I need a nap,” Jensen muttered, annoyed by his weakness.
“And you can have one,” Jared said in a voice far too chipper for Jensen’s present mood. “Once you’ve had your wash. Now come on, let’s get you on your feet.”
With a gentle tug, Jared brought Jensen upright. Jensen swayed once he was standing, unable initially to find his balance. Thankfully, Jared steadied him, holding him in an awkward almost-embrace that Jensen found more comforting than he probably should have.
“Okay,” Jared said when Jensen was no longer wholly reliant on him to stand. “Now slowly-with me-let’s walk over here.”
With Jared’s arm still wrapped around his back and their hands clutched tight, Jensen shuffled his way over to the chair Jared had pulled away from the table.
“Down you go,” Jared said, letting Jensen slip gently from his grasp. When he was seated, Jensen saw before him a steaming bowl of water, a bar of soap and a piece of toweling.
“Did you make this too?” Jensen asked, picking up the soap.
“No,” Jared said, crossing to a wardrobe tucked into the corner and opening it. “One of the women who comes to the market, Anna, is a maker of soaps and lotions. We have an understanding. I give her some of my herbs; she gives me some of what she makes with them. That bar has lavender in it.”
Jensen held the soap up to his nose and gave a sniff. It smelled clean and sharp and good.
Another bundle in hand, Jared returned to the table. “One more thing. If you feel up to it, I can loan you my razor. I just worry that if you’re not careful, you may slit your throat with it.”
“Now there’s a pretty thought,” Jensen murmured, taking the razor from him. It was wrapped in a soft, weathered piece of leather. “I appreciate the concern, but I think I can handle it.”
“If you’re sure,” Jared said. “All right then, I’ll leave you to it. Make certain to keep your bandage dry. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside. Just give a shout.”
“I will,” Jensen said, grateful for Jared’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” It was such a little thing to care about, some water and soap and the privacy in which to use them. Yet it meant a lot to him just then.
“You’re welcome,” Jared said, smiling warm as morning sunshine. “Enjoy.” Calling his dogs after him, Jared stepped outside and left Jensen to his bath.
Jensen got right to it, not wanting the water to cool. Shrugging out of his nightshirt, he soaped up the toweling and began cleaning away all the grit and grime accumulated from days of dangerous living. By the time he’d washed and finished shaving, the water had turned tepid and murky, but he’d managed to put much of his appearance to rights.
Jared chose that moment to peek around the door frame. “How are things going in here?”
Jensen grinned at him. “Well. Very well. Now if I could just figure out a way to wash my hair without also washing your floor, things would be perfect.”
Jared considered the challenge for a moment before saying, “If I helped you, do you think you could make it outside?”
“I think so,” Jensen said, wondering what all Jared had in mind. “To be honest, I’d love to spend a little time in the sun.”
“All right,” Jared said. “Come on then. Let’s move this operation out of doors.”
Moving as they had before, Jared helped Jensen to a bench lined up against the cottage wall. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Drowsy after his bath and all the unaccustomed activity, Jensen merely mumbled, “As if I could.” Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the house and, dozing, basked in the sun’s gentle warmth.
“Okay. Now if we can move you just one more time.”
Startled awake by something landing on the bench beside him, Jensen opened his eyes. Then opened them bigger when he’d realized what Jared had done while he’d rested. “What’s all this?”
“The only way I could see making this work.” Jared smiled, wide and bright, his dimples dipping deep into his cheeks. “I’m going to wash your hair for you.”
While he’d been taking his cat nap, Jared had brought out a chair and a whole armload of supplies. On seat next to Jensen’s hip was a pot of heated water, a cup, the soap from before and a new piece of toweling.
“You’re going to wash it?” Jensen asked, eyebrows lifted.
“I thought so,” Jared said, looking a bit unsure. “I mean…if that’s all right.” The rest of his words tumbled out of his mouth, as if he were hurrying to justify his plan. “I just thought it would be easier than you trying to lift your arms over your head with those stitches in.”
Jensen smiled, amused. “And you’d no doubt do a better job of keeping soap out of my eyes than I would.”
“Exactly,” Jared replied, seemingly relieved by Jensen’s reaction. “Now come on. Let’s transfer you to the chair here.”
With Jared’s assistance, Jensen took his place. When he was settled, Jared draped the toweling around his neck. “This will probably be a little messy,” Jared said, coming to stand behind Jensen. “But I figure if we get this nightshirt wet, I can find something else for you to wear. Close your eyes.”
As soon as Jensen did, Jared poured warm water slowly over his hair, wetting it down. Then he soaped up his hands, and ran them over and around Jensen’s head, developing a lather. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he wove his fingers through Jensen’s hair and began to massage the soap between the strands.
It felt…amazing.
“Harder, please,” Jensen murmured, his eyes yet closed, his voice coming out huskier than he’d expected. Jared stilled for a moment, his hands still buried in Jensen’s hair before pressing more firmly against Jensen’s scalp while he rubbed.
“Like that?” Jared asked, his words spoken soft and low, like Jensen’s had been.
“Yeah,” Jensen told him. “Just like that.”
God. Jared had wonderful hands, Jensen thought, giving himself up to the feel of them moving over his skin. Jensen had noticed them before, of course. How could he not? They were large, like the rest of Jared, long-fingered and sun-browned. He knew their touch as well, strong, yet careful with that strength, as if the man they were a part of knew his power could as easily wound as heal. But Jensen had never experienced them like this, in a manner so…intimate, even though the activity itself was one a mother might perform for a child.
Positioned as they were, with Jared standing closely by, Jensen became aware of him in a way he hadn’t before. He could feel the heat of Jared’s body as it circled round him, warm as the midday sun overhead. He could smell the way the scent of lavender was intensified by that heat and changed, mingling with the scent of Jared’s skin to create its own perfume. He could hear Jared too, the gentle inhales and exhales of his breath, the way his shirt whispered against his body as he worked, even the muffled gurgling sound his stomach made. It all led Jensen to feel…peaceful, relaxed in a way he rarely was at court, and very well looked after.
By the time Jared was rinsing Jensen’s hair, dipping the cup into the bucket of water and pouring it out over Jensen’s soapy head just as he had when the process had begun, all Jensen wanted to do was turn and rest his cheek against Jared’s gurgling middle, breathing him in, nestled there until daylight disappeared behind the tree line.
“Better?” Jensen heard Jared ask as if from a distance. He was pretty sure he also heard a note of amusement in Jared’s tone. Not waiting for an answer, Jared brought the toweling up over Jensen’s head, pressing, to sop the moisture from his hair.
“Hmm,” was the only thing Jensen could think of to say. That coaxed a chuckle from his caretaker. Jensen opened his eyes and looked out from beneath the fabric. Jared peered around to smile at him, his expression fond. Jensen smiled back before asking, “Why are you being so nice to me?” The question was voiced without conscious thought.
Jared shrugged and pushed back on the towel so that it looped around Jensen’s neck, his smile dimming a degree. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Jensen used the towel to blot away some of the water Jared had missed. “Plenty of reasons. You don’t really know me. I could be a murderer or a villain. Yet you’ve taken me into your home, asking nothing, while at the same time denying me nothing. Why is that?”
Jared seemed honestly confused by the query. “I like you.”
“You like me?” Jensen repeated the words, not because he wasn’t certain of what he’d heard, but rather because he wasn’t sure of their meaning.
“Yes,” Jared said, his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed. “Do you not hear that a lot?”
Jensen could tell he was being teased, but he couldn’t help rising to the bait. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty popular.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Jared said, taking the towel from Jensen so he could dry his hands.
“With the lords as well as the ladies,” Jensen said, testing the waters. He didn’t see why not. Jared had said he liked him-and Jensen certainly liked him in return. If Jared was attracted to him as well, so much the better. A little flirtation-or maybe more-could only help with his recovery. And if Jared was strictly interested in friendship…well, better to learn sooner rather than later so he would know how to behave.
For the first time, Jared’s eyes evaded his. Jensen couldn’t be sure, but he thought he might be blushing. “I can believe both find you appealing.”
“Is that so?” Jensen asked, intrigued. “Well, then-what about you?”
“What do you mean?” Jared asked with what looked like apprehension.
“Do you find me appealing?” Jensen asked. “Tell me truly.”
Jared grew very still, then said, “Yes.” And nothing more.
“Yes?” Jensen smiled, in his element now that he knew Jared shared his interest. “That’s it? No ‘your eyes are like diamonds’ or ‘I could write a sonnet in praise of your smile’? I realize I haven’t exactly been at my best these past few days. But I have to tell you, Jared, that kind of declaration would get you nowhere at court. Try again-and be honest. When you think of me, what comes to mind?”
Forehead wrinkled, Jared looked like maybe he wouldn’t answer at first. Then he wet his lips with his tongue, took a deep breath, and spoke. “I think you’re handsome and interesting, and very brave.” The words were said quickly, as if he wanted them spoken before he lost his nerve. “This probably sounds terrible, but I’m glad you’re here. I wish I was going to get the chance to know you better. But you’ll be leaving as soon as you’re able, you’ve made no secret of your plans, and that makes me sad. I don’t think I’d realized how lonely I was until you came along.”
That wasn’t what Jensen had expected Jared would say. He’d thought they were flirting, not getting all emotional over a friendship that wasn’t even fully formed. He didn’t know how to respond.
“I bet you’re regretting bringing this up, aren’t you?” Jared said after Jensen’s silence had lingered. Eyes averted, he began to gather up the bath supplies. “I’m sorry. Let that be a lesson to you. Never ask me to be honest. Because believe me, I will be.”
“Don’t apologize,” Jensen said, frowning, annoyed with himself as much as with Jared. What was he thinking, playing these kinds of games? He had more important things to worry about, like getting well and getting home. “You didn’t say anything wrong.”
“I did though,” Jared said. “Obviously, I did. Can we forget about it please and go back to the way we were? Let’s just enjoy each other’s company until it’s time for you to leave. Can you do that?”
“Yes, of course I can do that,” Jensen said, the words coming out a bit testier than he’d intended. He couldn’t help himself. Jared made it sound as if he were the one who had the problem here. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. I meant no harm. I was just…having a little fun. That’s all.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jared said. “I understand.”
Maybe Jared did. But Jensen certainly did not. If Jared was so lonely, why did he live out here, all by himself? He was certain handsome enough to find companionship and skilled enough to find work. What was keeping him hidden away in the Great Forest?
Jensen didn’t have the answer now. But he planned to before he returned to Westerly.
*
Masterpost
Part II