Dislaimers by the way and thanks to all who have reviewed and thrown in a few comments which have sparked some ideas!
Harry decided Ruth was right, he needed a drink first and so he swilled back the scotch before peeling off his jumper, which was not without some discomfort.
"Now lie on the bed," instructed Ruth.
He did so.
His eyes were fixed on her. Finally she turned and moved to him, rolling up her sleeves.
She sat besides him on the bed.
"Witch hazel" she said, "for the bruising. It's probably a bit late for it but who knows, it may help."
She soaked some of the cotton wool she had and began slowly and gently to rub it in small circles across Harry's battered ribs.
He was speechless. He made to say something, to tell her she didn't have to do this, that no one had ever done this for him before, not even Jane, to tell her he was fine but she stopped him.
"I told you, Harry. It's my turn."
"Your turn for what?"
"My turn to look after you. Now, shush, and just relax."
He was quiet. He thought about closing his eyes but firstly he didn't want to fall asleep and secondly watching Ruth administering to him with such care, such delicacy was too rare and beautiful a thing to miss.
She took her time and waited to see what he would do. She had hoped he would close his eyes but he didn't and they never left her. She found she didn't mind.
When she had bathed all the bruises around his ribs, she reached for the plastic bag and took another bottle from it.
Harry looked curiously at her.
"Fortunately, the landlady, Helen, has quite a stock of lotions and potions," she smiled as she took the top off the bottle.
"It's bio-oil. Good for scars." She knew his scars were probably long past help but it was more about her need to do this for him than anything else.
She rubbed the oil between her hands and began to massage it into his chest and shoulders. Neither of them said anymore for a considerable time. Ruth's hands were warm, firm, yet delicate as they ran over muscle and scar tissue.
She traced the lines of the marks and scars upon him. Harry watched her still, afraid some part of her would be repulsed by the patchwork of old wounds. Her face revealed no such thing merely concentration, determination and he thought, he hoped…love.
Eventually she told him to turn over and she began on his back. Her hands were firmer now and the aches and pains he had felt began to subside. He couldn't see her so he closed his eyes and relaxed and imagined her face behind him.
"Harry?"
"Mmmm," he moaned.
"You don't need to be afraid."
She paused.
"You've lost nothing. Nor will you. Don't you see, it doesn't need a pair of handcuffs to bind us together? We always have been. We've always felt the other one pulling at us, we've always moved as though there were something tying us, as though we were always bound one to the other. And we are. Maybe the handcuffs did help us get past a certain stage but we don't need them to be close now."
She waited for him to reply but there was nothing.
She wondered if he were still waiting for her to go on.
And then she concluded he was asleep.
She smiled to herself at the irony that she was finally telling him how she felt and he had slept through it.
"I do love you, Harry. More than you'll ever know. More than I thought myself capable."
The movement of her hands slowed and she stopped massaging his back.
She looked at him lying there and felt so full of love for him that it hurt her. She reached for the back of his neck and played with his hair.
And then she sat very still in the quiet room, the sounds of the pub downstairs far away.
"Don't stop, Ruth, it feels good."
She looked back at him as he began to turn to face her.
"Have you been awake all the time?"
He smiled a gentle, beautiful smile and nodded.
And then he reached up an arm and cradled her face in his palm treasuring the sight of her.
"I love you, Ruth."
She smiled at him and he felt warm for the first time in days.
She slowly, very, very slowly leant down to him and ran her lips from his ear, across his rough cheek until she found his mouth. She breathed him in and he her and then they kissed. Harry's left arm wound around her waist and suddenly he pulled her powerfully across him and on to the bed besides him, his lips never leaving hers.
His hands ran along her sides, pushing her arms up and over the pillows.
Click.
"Harry?"
He looked at her.
She looked at him and then at her hands cuffed to the headboard.
"What are you doing?"
"Sshhh, Ruth," he whispered, "now, it's my turn."
He smiled at her and let his lips fall to her neck, "My turn to please you."
The words dripped into her ear as his lips moved on to the nape of her neck, her collarbone, her chest and as his fingers began to work their way along the buttons of her shirt she closed her eyes and relaxed.
Probably an epilogue to come, if anyone fancies it, though I don't know what it might be yet.