One tear was all it took for Edmond to put the iodine and cloth down. He hovered his hands before me but didn't know what to do.

"What's happened?" he asked. The fear in the quiver of his voice nearly broke me as well.

I hadn't cried in years. I couldn't remember the last tear I'd allowed myself to shed.

So, I tilted my head back, shaking.

This was foolish. This was foolish and unnecessary and...and foolish.

"What. Is. Wrong?" Edmond asked again.

But the measured tone held a challenge.

Once I dared return his gaze, he looked fit to kill.

"Did he—?"

"No." But it came in a sob.

That was all it took for him to slam the iodine bottle down on the table as he stood.

I leapt at him, catching him from behind, my arms around his neck. It was no easy task with his height. My action petrified him. Despite the thumping of his heart, he didn't move.

"No," I assured him. "Everything is fine."

But he wasn't like others. With anyone else, a hug, an embrace of any kind came as a comfort. For Edmond, it signified something else.

He broke my hold and helped me back into my chair. Our eyes met and he said, "I won't tolerate this. If he's—"

I kissed him.

He wasn't the only one frightened into motionlessness.

It wasn't strong, or for all that long. It was just enough for him to stop talking madness. I wished I could say it was sensual or even passionate but it was...awkward.

His eyes stayed perpetually open, terror written in his shocked expression.

I waited for him to move.

To do something.

Now, the motionless one was I. I needed for him to say something, anything.

When he broke our gaze and reached back on the desk for the cloth, I hated him.

His intent was to say nothing. He wrung the small bottle of iodine between his hands, again and again, affixing the stopper.

Finally, he said, "Don't ever touch me again without my permission."

All air left me.

It hardly mattered when he remembered himself and added, "Please," before standing.

My eyes didn't follow him. Instead, I stared at where he once was.

A prouder woman would have had an answer for him, perhaps an admonishment.

Nothing came from my mouth beyond, "Then I'm asking for permission now."

He paused in his retreat, although I didn't know how close he was to that door.

My heart thumped, beating so hard, mixed in with my dread, disgust, humiliation, and dread yet again. I feared if I opened my mouth, it would leap from my throat and stopped beating before me.

It seemed an appropriate ending to how things came about.

Eons passed before he returned, crouched down, and said, "What is it you think this is? That...that I'd planned this?"

I took another kiss to stop his nonsense. He moved away this time and at the next. By the third he fell back, and I landed atop him. His hand on my shoulder held me at bay but calmed in time.

When he held my neck and drank me down, I lost all reasoning.

I could not say it was the first time I'd touched Edmond, or even seen him vulnerable. But it was the second. The first...haunted me for years.

For I opened that little hut seventeen years ago to see him covered in snow.

He looked at me but he couldn't see me, I knew.

"He's gone. He's left," is all he muttered.

"Edmond?" I closed the door but went into action. He was soaked through. "Edmond. Were you in the river!"

Hands clutched at his chest, he hunched over, shivering. I hurried around the neat shelves, desperate to find him some new, dry clothes. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The first thing I did was take off my shawl and tie it around him. It would do no good in what he was wearing.

"He's gone. He's gone. He's left," he kept repeating.

"Edmond?" Holding his face did little good. He wouldn't focus. I feared for him enough that I unbuttoned his collar then forced his arms up and took off his shirt. I wore several layers but that wouldn't do much good. I needed him warm.

What I found of the little fireplace confused me. There was some wood but no kindling. A thud made me turn and let out a scream. He'd fallen forward, face first on the ground.

By the time I'd managed to get him sitting up once more, the door opened and someone marched in.

Relief filled me. "Raphael."

The face that greeted me was anyone but. Gareth, covered in snow, looked between the two of us, horrified. "What is going on?"

**

Edmond was more careful with me for the next kiss, though he paused often to meet my gaze.

I wondered what he was looking for.

"Do you think—?"

My lips silenced him. I didn't want to think. We lay under the desk. A part of me laughed at the innocence of it. Here I was, thirty-four, Edmond thirty-six, hiding under a desk.

But the kisses down my neck and back up again, the ardent body pressed against me, took all my concerns.

"Have you locked the door?" I asked, breathless.

And that was when everything stopped.

I shut my eyes tight, regret pulsing through every vein. Now, his hands no longer held my face. Mine were no longer pressed at his chest. Instead, he let me go and sat up.

"Wait," I begged him, but he'd already come to his senses. He was already to the door, leaving me with the lamp, by the time I reached him. "Edmond."

He walked out, forcing me to run back to the lamp so that I could follow. A time or two, I lost track of him but as there was only one servant's quarter now, and the hut behind it that he still used, I knew where to go.

I arrived as he stepped in. "Edmond. Please."

His eyes wouldn't meet mine, but he allowed me to hold the door open.

I wasn't sure what to say. He'd never shown much bare emotion till now. Never. Never to me.

The way he stared past me meant I'd offended him somehow, but I was unsure in which manner.

And then the thought occurred, and I felt like a simpleton yet again. "Is this...have you ever...?" I debated how to approach the matter.

He met eyes with me, enraged. "I won't be giving you syphilis, if that's what you're asking."

And then he closed the door in my face.

I flinched.

On the other side of that hut seventeen years ago, I wore almost my final layers once I'd successfully gotten Edmond nearly bare.

The sight of his underclothes stopped me from getting the rest. Gareth busied himself at the stove. I glanced over at him, debating whether or not to ask him this one favor.

Convincing him to start this fire had already been a chore. And he'd come because Raphael, caught in the storm, took refuge at Gareth's house, begging for help to find his brother.

With that, Gareth grabbed a horse and rode here. It wasn't all that far, and Raphael must have been in a bad way if he couldn't come on his own. I imagined him in a barn now, fighting to live much like Edmond.

No. I decided not to ask anything more of Gareth. Besides, he must have known I needed the help.

There were still two blankets left. I took my clothes from around Edmond and cast my eyes skyward as I used my fingers to guide me in undressing him. Whatever he looked like bare, I'd never know.

He caught my arm after I'd touched his torso by mistake.

Face hot, I didn't dare risk meeting eyes with him. Instead, I waited for him to let me go. He threw my arm down and rolled over onto the bed, shivering.

It'd have to do, I decided, and covered him with my clothing and the blanket. And yet, I worried.

There were two small beds across from each other on either side of the room. The only other thing inside was a stove and a shelf where he'd probably kept clothing. It was where I found the covers.

Now with Edmond turned over, I watched the blanket, unaware that two blue eyes watched me.

Gareth stood before the long-lighted stove, his face creased into a frown.

"Do you fancy him or something?"

My mouth fell open. "What?"

He trembled but didn't repeat himself. Instead, he turned to poke the fire once more.

The little house warmed in time, but despite that, Edmond still shivered. Fear. Never had I felt such fear for someone.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. Deep in me, I knew Raphael would recover, he was as strong as an ox, but Edmond was different.

Physically, he was slim. His body just didn't appear suited for this weather.

The underclothes had to come off, I decided, and I stood. Gareth stepped before me. "What are you trying to do?"

My eyes met his. I decided to beg. After I told him what I wanted, he still made no motion to help me.

His black eye looked better today, but not by much.

Though he did not advance toward Edmond, he looked between us.

"And if I don't?" he challenged.

My stomach twisted. "He'll die," was all I could say, though I wanted to scream more.

He looked at the floor again. Finally, he told me, "You don't tell anyone I did this—that I touched one of them."

I blinked up at him. Perhaps I nodded. Perhaps I made a sound. Perhaps...perhaps he grew a conscience on his own.

Edmond was bare under my clothes in no time, a blanket atop him. Though some of it was wet from his previous attire, the situation didn't allow me to check. Gareth was out of patience.

He offered me the second blanket and I wrapped myself in it, not even realizing how cold I was until I had the covering.

And then Gareth sat. He tried to reach for me, but I immediately pulled away, stunned.

Arms still extended, Gareth debated what to say. "We can stay warmer with body heat. The fire isn't all that big."

I still didn't move.

Finally, he lowered his arms and turned to face the door.

"Reckon it'll snow all night. Being stuck in here with a girl who has no interest in me wasn't my ideal thought."

There was an awkward silence after that. I felt the need to apologize.

"I didn't say I had no interest in you." The words left my mouth in a whisper. When I sat up, I offered him the blanket. "Here. You came all this way."

"Oh? You noticed?" He didn't turn.

It was now that I saw that the snow he'd walked through had soaked through his clothing as well. Perhaps not as terribly as it had for Edmond.

But as I opened my mouth to apologize yet again, Edmond turned over and let out a cough, vomiting all over the floor.

"Edmond!"

The food wasn't much but his breathing grew shallow.

Gareth didn't react. I hurried around, frantic to find something to use and clean it. I settled on some of Edmond's wet clothes. With no place for it, I stood with the mess in both hands.

"Put it in the fire," Gareth suggested.

But that might kill what meager heat we had. Instead, I risked opening the door. The snow was already waist length. I couldn't throw the mess far, but it was at least out of our way.

Poor Edmond gnashed his teeth. I wrapped him up again and turned him toward the wall, praying it would help warm him.

When I turned, I found Gareth on his feet, eyes wild.

"What kind of girl touches a naked man?"

The admonishment had me frozen. He was right but he hadn't tried to cover Edmond up. There was no one left to carry that out.

Gareth trembled but I couldn't understand why.

Finally, he explained, "My brother says terrible things about you two, horrible things. I fought him over it. Two nights ago. I won."

Judging from the bruises, he didn't win by much.

In an effort to calm him, I sat and pulled him to do the same.

With nothing left to do, he started talking. He related about his father and brother coming home outraged, spewing lies about Arabella falling into Raphael's arms in the middle of the day for everyone to see. I listened without clarifying that she was about to go over a gully and that Raphael, still chair bound, had risked his ability to ever walk again to drag her back. Trying to defend them would mean confirming that it was no lie or embellishment.

And I said nothing because he said something that stunned me.

"Last summer, I saw them."

Eyes still fixed on the floor at first, I directed my vision to him steadily.

I needed not ask for him to elaborate, he spoke as if he needed my assurances.

"She pushed him in that chair, right to the privy. And...and...and she helped him get in. He had two canes; he could have gone in alone! But she went in. She went right in!"

My spirit left me. Now I knew where those scandalous rumors originated. Gareth had told his brothers, who had whispered it in passing to anyone who knew us.

But which was better? Admitting that Edmond was probably busy writing a long letter on Grandmother's behalf and Arabella no doubt felt obligated because she'd been the cause of him breaking both legs?

The day came back to me and I thought of the only time Arabella and I were apart. We'd made lunches and she intended to give Raphael what she'd managed not to burn. I, pleased to see her making amends, allowed her to go on her own. The food no doubt did its damage and she had to rush him to the outhouse.

So which version of her would have appeased Gareth? Because it had been bad enough for him that he'd turned back without calling on me.

"I was sure what they said about you wasn't true," Gareth insisted. "But for you—"

"It's not." I turned to him and promised, "It is certainly not what you think."

For a long moment, he watched me. When he tried to hold my shoulder, I flinched.

The action satisfied him rather than repelled. "It's good that you lean away. My brothers always said good girls will pull back or draw away."

I didn't understand what he'd meant.

Until now, the only boys we had for company were Edmond and Raphael and they never tried to come near us. Either of us. But convincing Gareth of that seemed impossible.

Finally, he looked at Edmond and said, "I don't know if he's going to make it through the night, not at this rate. In war, people've gotta sleep close together to keep the body temperature up."

My heart started to pound, hammering away until it climbed up into my throat. I waited for him to tell me his plan. But instead, he shook his head and said, "If he makes it, and we get married, we'd probably inherit him. I promise, we'll get him a nicer place to sleep for winter. Maybe even the cellar in the house or something."

I felt struck. My expression must have been too telling because he quieted. I showed him my gratitude by saying, "That's so generous."

After giving the room a once-over again, he said, "You're not wearing much. If you and me huddle close, we should be all right. You don't want to end up like him. That's for sure."

This time when he extended his arms, blanket and all, I felt fearful.

I didn't move and he took offense. "You didn't seem to mind getting him naked. I won't do anything to you."

I stared past him after that, feeling fragile and dreadful in his tentative embrace. It was awful. I told myself to calm because this was simply my first time with such an encounter and Edmond's dire situation was a bigger concern.

The stubble of Gareth's chin rubbed on my shoulder. Eventually he pulled me to lie beside him, and I, eyes perpetually wide, stared up as most of the day faded.

What happened next was something I'd blocked out for many years. I never revisited that night. There were several reasons why and several things I'd learned.

One important lesson was how safe a woman's layers kept her. I had nearly no safety.

Two, love spoken and love expressed were two different things. I wasn't accustomed to the expression of love.

And three...Gareth wasn't asleep after he was done.

I knew he wasn't, and I didn't care. The passage of time might have been short or long, and perhaps I appeared...undignified, but as soon as he stopped moving, I broke from his grip, crossed the room to Edmond's spot, and slipped into the bed behind him. The safety of my own clothes, though shared between us, lessened this feeling of dread that I'd done something—allowed something terrible.

My head told me it was all right because Gareth had courted me and we'd marry. And besides, this was womanhood and it made sense to get it from Gareth. Being on his side of the room was where I'd belonged and yet, I couldn't bring myself to return.

I was still bare in the chest and waist, my skin pressed against Edmond's, but I didn't mind. The more I thought of that fact, the more I realized...I was strange.

Being here with this servant, below my station, not even of my own kind that I could recognize, did me no harm.

It wasn't harm with Gareth. It hadn't been harm.

It was an accident.

Some people just couldn't control their urges.

Gareth sat up but I pulled Edmond closer. The moment Edmond's hands clasped mine, fear rushed through me.

Had he been awake? Been aware of what I'd just done?

I was strange and twisted but I couldn't leave that bed, not to return to the one that had just taken something from me I knew I could never get back.

Perhaps to Gareth, Edmond was a monster...a dark-faced pantomime of his countrymen, but to me...he was my friend. And he did not move my hand in the same manner as Gareth had, and he certainly didn't shush me when I'd hesitated.

He did nothing beyond interlocking our fingers, perhaps to soothe me and let me know he would have stopped me if he could have.

All the better. Once I married and the estate was my own, I'd forgive Raphael whatever it was he'd done wrong, and we could all live happily after that. Gareth had promised.

Gareth called my name, but I shut my eyes and pretended to sleep. He didn't call for me again after that.