Mrs. Hughes shot Anna a smile as she sat down to dinner, which Anna found disorienting; Mrs. Hughes usually kept her authoritative face on for meals and meetings. But tonight the tension between Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Bates had completely dissolved and now they laughed together like old friends. He was more at ease than she had seen him in days. His color was high, his posture and vigor returned. She realized she had missed this side of him.
It was an unseasonably warm evening. Even with the back door propped open they were all perspiring a bit at dinner. Anna sipped her tea after it cooled in the cup, willfully not looking at Mr. Bates' forearms. He had rolled up his sleeves and was turned away from her and chatting with Mrs Hughes. O'Brien and Thomas got up to go for an after dinner smoke; there was no one across the table to see her now. So Anna sipped, and stared.
His hands were fine but masculine with long, tapered fingers and broad palms, and he used the tips of his fingers when he touched things, unlike many men who used their hands like meat hooks. His fingers were deft and precise without being dainty. His wrists were broad and solid, his forearms long-boned like the rest of his build. Anna stared at the hair on his forearms, dark but not too thick, imagining how much he might have on his chest. She had accidentally seen the farm boys with their shirts off behind the barn or in the fields when a cool breeze came up and they thought no woman was about; she knew men came in many shapes and sizes, many hues and variations. It wasn't something she should have been thinking about. But still, she looked. If she were to stroke her hand over his arm the hair would be soft and reassuringly masculine but the underside of his arm would be bare skin. How smooth would it be, how warm, how tender? If she moved her hand under the table and brought it up "accidentally" under his arm she would be able to find out.
Anna set her cup in her saucer with a little crash. If she kept thinking like this she would bring a calamity on herself. What if she lost control completely one day? She hadn't realized how far down this road she had wandered. In fact, she had never come this far in her admiration of any man. She huffed to herself. In love or not, this wasn't like her. She needed to regain her bearings.
He had been laughing with Mrs. Hughes and turned round to Anna with that very slight swagger he had, even sitting down; his eyes were bright as they met hers, giving his smile a teasing quality. Without saying a thing he was flirting with her and Anna's bearings dissolved again as her knees and ankles turned to water. She was glad she was sitting down, to have him smile at her like that. She rallied anyway.
"We'll, it's late," said Anna, "I'll finish up with Lady Mary and say good night,"
She stood a bit unsteadily, pushing her cup and saucer away; his arm went out, by instinct, to help her. She put her hand on the table to right herself but her fingertips stopped against his.
The both froze.
Mrs. Hughes had said good night and was leaving the dining hall. Further down the table Alice was absorbed in her mending. There was no one looking at them. He dropped the arm that had stretched out to catch her, but he did not move his hand on the table. Anna, breathless, pivoted her fingertips against his as she slowly moved around him. He lifted two fingers to give hers a stroke as she pulled them away, and she slowed herself to prolong the touch.
They had brushed against each other like two languid cats, using nothing but the tips of their fingers. Anna's entire body sang with it. She left the hall without looking back at him.
She finished up and went to bed, and dreamed of his hands in her hair. He was running it between his fingers over and over, spreading it on the pillow. He caressed her ears, her throat, the back of her neck. Anna moaned happily, holding her face up, longing to be kissed. The bed disappeared from under her and she thumped, breathless, onto the floor.
"Wha?" Gwen choked, sitting up in the dark. "Anna?"
Anna lay on the floor tangled in covers and her nightgown. She sighed.
"Nightmare," she said.