Why mornings like these seemed to drag was beyond him. He was torn somewhere between wishing it would speed itself up, and wishing he had more time.
As he pulled on his trousers, he winced before picking his gaze up to find her watching him from the door. Her expression was neutral, the only indication of her mood being her tense body.
"I made you something to eat. It's on the table."
Her voice was steady, giving way to nothing of her feelings.
"Alright," he said with a nod.
Turning, she disappeared from his sight and, for a moment, he stared at the now vacant doorway before closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall to his hands. The dread he felt was building more with every second that passed.
He slid his hands back and forth along his thighs to wipe off the sweat before standing and glancing back at their bed, the night before at the forefront of his mind.
"I received a letter from the General today."
Her eyes left her novel and found his. "Alright."
Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward in his chair and took in the way the flames of the hearth illuminated her. "I have orders to return to camp immediately."
She slowly set her book on the table beside her chair and then directed her gaze at the flames. "Immediately?"
"Yes," he choked out, his nerves getting the best of him.
"You're injured."
He held out his hands. "I'm well enough."
Her eyes darted to his quickly, the green in them sparkling against the light of the fire. "Well enough? Ichabod, you can barely walk."
"Katrina-"
She pointed a finger at him. "No. If you go now, you could risk infection."
With a sigh, he moved to sit on the edge of the table in front of her and took her hands in his. "I'll be fine."
Jerking her hands from his, she stood and began pacing. "You're not going. If I have to go speak to the General myself, I will."
He pushed himself up and turned to her. "My love, I have no choice in the matter. He needs me to return. I doubt he would ask unless it was important."
Her pacing stopped as she faced him with a frown. "I don't care how important it is. I won't allow you to risk something as important as your health for anything or anyone. Someone else can take care of whatever it is that he needs."
Dragging a hand across his face, he sighed. "We're at war, Katrina. Things such as this cannot be delayed for a scratch."
Her huff signified his error. He should have known better than to downplay his injury.
"A scratch?" She moved toward him and shoved him to the chair before kneeling and lifting the leg of his trousers and bandage to reveal the deep gash in his calf."That is not a scratch. You nearly lost your leg." She fixed him with a stern gaze. "And if you leave and it gets infected, you still could. Is that what you want?"
Leaning down, he pushed the material back over his wound, wincing as he did so. "I'll be careful."
"Ichabod-"
"I'm going and I'm not discussing this any further."
The look that passed over her face forced him to tear his eyes from her. Her expression had went from shock to unreadable faster than anything he'd ever seen. He felt her hands slide from him as she stood.
"Very well."
With that, she exited the room.
Releasing a heavy breath, he let his head fall to his hands. She was being overprotective, and yes, he was being stubborn, but this was ridiculous. He'd be fine. She was no doubt upstairs readying for bed, preparing herself for a night of ignoring him. Perhaps it would be best to remain here for a while until she fell asleep.
Pushing open the door to their room, he found her in the bed with her back to him. With a sigh, he limped to the bed and sat down to begin undressing. He managed his boots and shirt, but when it came to his trousers, he found he couldn't get them over the bandage. Pushing at them again, he winced and hissed as it pulled at the wound. Placing his hands on his knees, he took a few breaths before attempting the task again. He jumped when she knelt in front of him as he'd not even noticed her get up. Her face bore no expression and as he watched her carefully pull the material over his wound, he felt an apology building.
"Katrina-"
"You have to do it slowly, the back first. Try not to rip the bandage off."
Once she finished, she didn't even look at him before returning to her side of the bed, her back to him again. Using his hands, he lifted his leg into the bed and adjusted himself on his back before snuffing out the light on the bedside table. The ceiling found his stare as he contemplated how to find his way out of the mess he'd made. He'd only been home a week, doing his best to recover as quickly as possible. His wound had been sustained in a recent scuffle, the blade of his enemy catching him on the back of his calf, cutting it deeply. The moment Katrina had heard, she'd been at his side. His confusion at her presence so quickly having been explained by the Reverend. Apparently, he'd brought Katrina along as his nurse as he'd been feeling slightly ill as of late. Ichabod had been rather upset at learning of her presence so near to a battle, but she'd quieted him sufficiently by stating that she'd been playing a role in this war far longer than he had and that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Since then, she hadn't left his side, going so far as to demand he be allowed time at home to heal.
Turning his head to look at her, he sighed. Her being so far from him bothered him intensely. In their three years of marriage, they're time together had been limited. The war demanded both of their presences, leaving them only sparse amounts of time for each other. When they did find moments to return to their home and share the same bed, nothing in the world could separate them. Her love would consume him in every way possible. She would give him everything and he would take it greedily. Now though, as she lay away from him, he felt himself longing for her to the point that he couldn't breathe. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or not and a small part of him hoped she wasn't. It was selfish, but he wanted her to be as upset at not being in his arms as he was about her absence. Sighing, he let his gaze wander back to the ceiling, desperately trying to think of something other than her soft skin and gentle touch. As he lay there a while longer, he finally felt her move as she rolled over to face him. The room was dark, but he knew her eyes were on him. The bed shifted and then her arm was across his chest and her body was resting firmly against his side, one of her legs sliding over his to rest between them. Relieved, he wrapped his arm around her back as she adjusted her head on his shoulder, her hot breath on his neck.
"Katrina..."
"I don't want to talk. May we please just go to sleep?"
With another sigh, he tightened his hold on her and attempted to do as she asked.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. They didn't speak, and the few instances where he dared to look at her, he found her ignoring him completely. The moment he took the last bite of his food, she was lifting his plate to take into the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, he stood and made his way into the sitting room. He winced as he took a seat on the sofa to pull on his boots. Taking a deep breath, he looked at the boot in his hand, knowing the moment he began walking that the leather would rub the bandage causing searing pain. Bending over, he began to pull it on when she entered the room.
"Wait."
She knelt in front of him and began rolling the material up. "I made a salve for your wound. It should help with the pain." Her eyes glanced up at him. "For a while."
As she went about applying the salve, he felt a slight warmth fill his leg and his pain ease considerably. Brushing it off as due to the salve, he allowed his eyes to wander over her. She was so gentle as she cared for him, her hands lightly touching him. Everything about her mesmerized him, her red hair falling down about her face as she tended him, her green eyes intense with concentration.
"I love you."
She didn't look at him as she wiped her hands on a cloth and rolled the material of his trousers back over his bandage. As she continued to ignore him, he sighed in disappointment and leaned his head back against the sofa to stare at the ceiling. She placed his boot on over the bandage carefully and stood. Thinking she was done with him, he nearly jumped out of his skin when she placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself as she straddled him on the sofa. As her arms wove around his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair, he felt his heart pick up pace. Hesitantly placing his hands on her waist, he pulled her close as she began to drag her lips along his jaw.
"I thought you were angry with me."
"I am," she said with a shrug. "But I love you and I don't want what could be our last moments together to be spent in silence and distance."
Pulling back to look into her eyes, he caught her flash of worry. "This won't be our last moment together. I'll be fine, my love."
"You don't know that."
Smiling, he kissed her cheek. "Yes, I do. Because I know you, and the moment I'm out the door, you're going to pack and follow me to camp as soon as you get the proper clearance."
She gave a small laugh. "They need competent nurses."
"Katrina..."
"I'm going and I'm not discussing this any further."
He'd known the moment he said those words that she wouldn't let them go, but the thought of her being so near to danger was unbearable. "Please don't."
She leaned into him and brushed her lips over his. "I said I'm not discussing it."
As she moved down to nip at his throat, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. "I'm supposed to be on my way."
She pulled back and smirked. "You're injured," she said, sliding her hand down his chest to rest on his belt. "You can't move as fast. At least that's what you can tell the General." His body was on fire as she leaned to whisper in his ear. "Unless you want to tell him the real reason you're going to be late."
"I love you," he breathed out in a low whisper.
Leaning in to place herself a breath away from him, she smiled. "I know."