She moaned in frustration. All she wanted was a drink. There was a bell resting on the table next to the water, presumably so she could ring for assistance. A fat lot of good it did her though, as she was unable to reach the bell either.
Harriet gritted her teeth and wiggled into a sitting position. Her head swam and she grasped the headboard to stop herself from tumbling onto the floor. Her body couldn’t take another fall. She stared at the pitcher of water and willed it closer, but no such luck, it stubbornly stayed where it was. She was going to have to get it herself.
She took a deep breath, released the headboard and grabbed the bed post closest to her while swinging her feet over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. She swayed dangerously, black spots flashing in front of her eyes and bile rising up her throat. She forced her eyes from the red swirling carpet on the floor back up to the pitcher. Thankfully the bile remained down where it should be and her surroundings stopped moving of their own accord. Gradually the black spots faded and her vision cleared.
Where earlier she was wishing for a breeze through the window, now she was glad they remained closed. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat and she shivered uncontrollably and she still didn’t have the water. If anything she was even more desperate to feel moisture on her tongue than before. Powerless to stop the shaking, she reached for the pitcher anyway.
She almost knocked it over twice but somehow she managed to pour some water into the glass on the table. Her whole arm shook with the effort and by the time she finally brought the glass to her lips, she was almost too exhausted to drink any of it.
The tepid water unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and relieved her dry lips. When she lowered to glass, she was amazed to find it empty. She reached over to place it back on the table but she misjudged the distance and set it on the edge of the table. Her reactions were too slow to catch it before it fell. It hit the drawer handle on the way down and exploded into thousands of tiny fragments of crystal, one of which lodged itself in her shin. She watched as a drop of blood trickled down her leg and onto the priceless carpet at her feet.
Slowly, slowly she moved her legs back up onto the bed and reached down to pluck the shard loose. It stung as she pulled it out and started to bleed again, but she was too tired to stem the flow. Placing the shard on the table she wiggled back down the bed until she was lying flat once more. Seconds later she was fast asleep.
Philip stopped as soon as he walked into the room.
Blood.
The smell of it greeted him at the door and instantly he was transported back to that awful night in the park. He rushed to her bed but soft snores came from her lips and she was unscathed. He stood in silence and watched her sleeping. The gentle rise and fall of her chest soothed him. He moved to the other side of the bed and pulled the all-too familiar chair closer to the bed and sat down.
Something sharp stabbed him in his stocking foot. It was only then that he noticed the bloody shard of glass lying on the table. Looking down, a thousand pieces of crystal twinkled on the floor in the late afternoon light. A smear of red across the sheets caught his attention and he stripped the cover back.
He didn’t know she slept naked.
Air left his lungs in a whoosh as the expanse of skin greeted his eyes. His hands itched to touch its smoothness but with a sigh he lowered the sheet back over her, the vision still burned upon his eyes. He grabbed the small bell standing on the table and shook it savagely. The ringing brought a maid running but it also woke Harriet. He cursed his stupidity and slumped back into the chair.
“Miss Harriet is injured and there is glass littering this floor. Where were you?” he asked, the anger rising up inside him. “You should have been here with her. She should not be left alone.” He said everything to the maid that he should have been saying to himself.
“Philip,” Harriet spoke softly and placed a hand on his knee. “It’s all right. It’s my fault there is glass everywhere. I’m terribly sorry you cut yourself.”
He looked at her pale face and felt like an even bigger ass. “That’s just it, Harriet, you shouldn’t have been left alone. Why didn’t you ring the bell if you wanted a glass of water?”
“I couldn’t reach it.” Temper flared in her eyes and he was pleased she wasn’t as much an invalid as she looked.
Philip gritted his teeth until he was sure he heard them crack. “My point exactly.”
A smile graced her lips warming his heart. Unable to take his eyes off her, Philip apologised to the maid for his outburst and propped his feet on the bed so the maid could remove the glass from the carpet.
“Sir?” ventured the maid after a few moments down on her knees.
“Yes?” He still hadn’t stopped looking at Harriet.
“I’m sorry sir, but you gonna have to move, sir, I can’t reach the rest.”
He looked at the floor and saw the crystal still sparkling in the light, although not nearly as much as before. He switched his gaze to the maid. Her hands were covered in small cuts, blood oozing from the tips of her fingers. He jerked to his feet, resulting in his pushing the shard of crystal that was still in his foot, further into his skin.
“Good Lord, girl, what are you doing?”
“Picking up the glass, sir, like you said.”
Guilt swamped him. She was right, he had been too preoccupied by Harriet to pay any attention to the maid, but he never intended for her to hurt herself, especially not for him. To help clear his conscience he helped her to her feet.
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I assumed you would fetch yourself some gloves before you started, and I never intended you to be harmed. Take yourself down to the kitchen and have Cook look after your hands. That glass needs to be removed. Take the rest of the day off and tomorrow as well. Lord knows you won’t be much use with hands cut up like that. Off you go now.”
The maid bobbed a curtsey. “Yes sir, thank you sir.” With a huge smile on her lips she turned and fled.
Harriet chuckled as the girl rushed from the room. “You’re a good man, Philip Blade, and I think you just made her day.”
Philip shrugged. He imagined the maid would appreciate the time off. So would he; with the maid out of the way he and Harriet were once again alone in the room.
“And you, my dear, have a cut on your leg. Do you want me to send for Dr Brown to tend to it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Philip, you can manage without him, I’m sure.” She thrust her leg from under the covers and once again he found himself staring at her bare skin.
His butt hit the chair again. It had been doing that a lot lately. He reached out and gently clasped her leg with his hand. Her skin was as smooth as he was scared it would be. His fingers ran up her leg of their own accord and he was hard pressed to make them stop at the cut on her shin. With his other hand he dipped the edge of the sheet into the pitcher of water and used it to mop up the dried blood. A small drop of fresh blood appeared at the site and he lowered his face and kissed it away. The metallic taste was strong on his tongue. He raised his head and looked into her eyes.
“I’m not sure why I did that,” he said.
“Don’t stop,” she replied breathlessly.
He didn’t need to be told twice. Philip lowered his head back to her leg and kissed his way from her toes to her knee. He wouldn’t allow himself to go further no matter