Part XXI

Will sits, back against the bed, holding out an arm for me. I crawl into its warm circle, pillowing my head against his shoulder.

"This is nice too," I breath. "You smell a bit like the forge still."

"That never comes off," Will says, arm tightening around me and drawing me even closer. "You smell of honeysuckles."

I tilt my head towards him. "Do I taste of them as well?"

"I shall have to see. . . ."

Loud clanging and banging erupts from the shop just as Will's lips are ever so close to mine. He pulls away, muttering a string of extremely blue curses under his breath.

"It sounds as if someone is attempting to destroy your wares," I whisper as if I can be heard over the ruckus.

"No. It is only Brown back from the pub," Will says, pushing himself to his feet. "Stay here. I shall see to his state of sobriety. If need be, we can always sneak you out the window."

"I don't want to be shoved out a window!" I protest. "It is probably very muddy and we only just got the dress clean so--"

"And, please, stay quiet," Will says, caressing my cheek lightly – almost regretfully – before pressing a kiss to the center of my forehead. "It will do neither of us any good for Brown to find you here in such a state."

"Agreed," I sigh, graping for his sleeve as he turns to leave. "Please hurry, Will."

"I shall try," he assures me.

I can't help but overhear their conversation.

"Why did you bank the fire in the middle of the day?" Blacksmith Brown roars. "We have work to do, boy."

"You were indisposed and I needed to leave the shop for a time," Will answers levelly. "Would you rather I let the coals die out completely?"

"Running up to the big house, I suppose," Brown sneers. "Going off to let that little miss lead you around by a string, hm?"

"I finished our current requests and what I do with my time after is none of your concern."

"Don't sass me, boy! While you're living under my roof, you follow my rules and they don't include gallivanting about with the governor's daughter."

"Miss Swann is none of your concern either."

Things deteriorate rapidly from there.

I try to cover my ears, hum a song, examine my nails—anything to distract myself from the epic rant that Blacksmith Brown is directing at poor Will. It seems an age, but Will finally returns, closing the door softly behind him.

"Brown has gone out once more. We are safe."

"Does he. . .Does he treat you in such a manner often?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"On his mood and amount of liquor consumed." He shrugs. "Don't look so shocked, Elizabeth. Handling Brown's moods is one thing I am very adept at."

"It just does not seem right, Will," I say. "Perhaps if I speak to Papa --"

"Two more years we'll be eighteen and I can open my own shop if I wish," Will says. "It is not such a very long wait." He pokes at my dress laying half-forgotten in the puddle of sunshine. "Dry."

I pull his borrowed shirt over my head before reaching for my dress, stepping into the skirt and pulling up the bodice. "You shan't like this request, Will, but would you be a dear and help me lace up?" I ask as I slip my arms into the sleeves.

"Perhaps if things become unbearable with Brown, I can hire myself out as a lady's maid," Will jokes, fingers working effortlessly to tighten the laces of my stomacher.

I turn to face him, smoothing my hands down my hips and skirt to make sure all is in order. "Papa will be wondering after me."

"Shall I see you home?"

"That would be lovely," I agree, tip-toeing to press a kiss to his mouth. "We still have a game to finish as well, Mr. Turner."

"Are you free tomorrow, Miss Swann?" Will asks, playing along with my formality.

I nod, eyes bright. "I believe I am."

"Then I believe we shall pass a very pleasant afternoon."

We both grin as if we share a very wicked secret. Will offers his arm and I accept, pressing close as we exit the shop and turn toward home.

Tomorrow cannot come soon enough!