The Sins of the Father
Chapter 15
Adira's slightly loose leather boots slap a little against her bare calf muscles as she guides the horses forward. Having located Sable nuzzling several clumps of grass just beyond the path, Adira was now in the process of tying both Sable and Nudge's reins to the bar beneath the wooden shelter. Pulling the hay through the rack, Adira pats their damp haunches and paces back to Haytham through the alleviating rain. The gentle flicker of the lamplight from within the tavern barely reaches his distinctly dishevelled form as he leans against the darkened brick of the building. The small fleeting flickers which do only serve to emphasise the dark patches of blood staining his left side and the heavy lines creasing his brow beneath his tricorn.
Pressing his arm against his chest, he cradles his elbow and stretches his increasingly numb fingers uncomfortably.
'Losing feeling?' Adira ventures, brushing the loose hay from her hands before coming to rest before him. Her brow furrows a little as she visually inspects the wound once more. An action which only confirms what she knew to be true already - he would need stitches.
'Only in my fingers,' Haytham returns with a brief and pained smile. His eyes wander up to the sign above the tavern door and he releases a subtle sigh, recalling a distant memory. Pushing his weight from the wall with a grunt of effort, he turns his attention to the soaked woman standing before him as the brim of his tricorn continues to drip the rain it had captured intermittently onto his shoulder.
'I only hope, after everything, that William is here.' Haytham extends his fingers to feather Adira's cheek. His fingertips trace the length of her faded scar softly and he recalls the night he had saved her from a predator of a very different kind.
'Do not worry about that now. Let us concern ourselves with cleaning you up and making you comfortable,' Adira replies, running her hand over his and inclining her head to press his palm into her warm cheek.
'And what is your definition of comfortable in this particular scenario, pray tell…' Haytham practically purrs his words as he leans a little closer, his hunger for her igniting as his gaze drifts over her full lips and his hand slips to the curvature of her neck.
Adira smiles suggestively up at him as she runs her fingers gently under his lapels, pulling him down slowly and stretching her legs a little to meet him.
With a teasing smile, she stops and ghosts her lips over his.
'Follow me and you'll find out,' she mutters. Her words flutter against his lips, pulling a teased moan from them and causing his eyes to flutter shut.
His breath catches as he feels her lips escape the kiss he so desperately wanted to press to them. Running her fingers slowly down to his chest, she drops back and allows her gaze to wander over him - devouring every detail. Her eyebrow arches playfully as she steps back, allowing one hand to linger on his thundering heart before she retracts her fingers completely.
Pulling up to his full height, Haytham clears his throat and smiles, shaking his head a little and promising himself he'd tease the brawler in his own way later. He presses himself behind Adira as they step into the light bathing the exterior of the tavern. A smile tugs at the young woman's lips as she saunters towards the tavern door with him in tow.
Grimacing a little, Haytham extends his hand and rests it on top of Adira's shoulder causing her to pause momentarily. The low timbre of his voice resonates through her as he stoops to speak to her quietly.
'Be on your guard,' he states through increasingly ragged breaths as Adira inclines her pale face towards him and glances up to the aged and splintering sign above the door:
The Wright Tavern.
'Always, Grand Master,' Adira replies, nodding curtly before unlatching the tavern door and sliding into the cacophonous atmosphere of sweat, ale and poor choices which spewed from the innards of this particular watering hole.
Adira was used to the chaotic ruckus and drunken atmosphere of taverns but something about this place set her teeth on edge and if she possessed hackles, she was certain she'd have raised them. The feeling only increased as she meandered through the crowds, ensuring she could feel Haytham pressed to her at all times. Her earthen gaze snaps to every set of lingering eyes as she leads Haytham to the bar and insists he take a seat on a stool as she catches the bar-keep's attention.
The gaunt gentleman wipes his brow and leans on the bar, his shallow breath rattling through his bones and pouring the thick scent of smoke onto any patron at arm's length. Despite his sallow and grey appearance, he manages a cordial smile which masks his own concern for the blood caking Adira's fingers and most of her companion's arm and chest.
'What can I get you, Miss? You and your friend look in need of something strong and numbing.'
'Truer words have yet to be spoken,' Adira returns, indicating to the bottles of amber liquid stored up on the shelf as she presses her elbows to the bar.
'A room, a bottle of whiskey, a couple of clean rags, and a needle and thread for my friend if you'd be so kind,' Adira requests politely, savouring Haytham's expression as he realises his travel companion's painful but necessary plan for their first evening together in the frontier.
The gentleman nods with a bright, albeit stained, smile. Throwing his rag over his shoulder, he begins to turn before Adira catches him with a final request.
'I don't suppose you have any honey stored out the back?' Adira whispers, piquing Haytham's curiosity. With a brief sideways glance in his direction, she fails to hide her mischievous smile as his eyebrow raises quizzically and a suggestive glint flashes through his grey eyes.
'My missus might have some in the kitchen. Let me check,' he responds, equally curious about the young woman's intentions. Turning away, he begins to collect the bottle from the top shelf and slips into the back room momentarily.
'Honey? I'm intrigued by your plans for me,' Haytham breathes with an amorous smile, adjusting his position on the stool and flexing his fingers again. Diverting his attention from the deep ache in his arm and his sudden exhaustion, he begins to assess the groups of drunkards and gamblers occupying the tavern as Adira twists around and rests her back against the bar.
'Any sign of your friend?' Her gaze flicks to Haytham whose grey eyes now shine with the familiar golden threads which allow him to perceive more than humanly possible.
'Not the one I was expecting…' he replies weakly, his eyes focus on the tavern door as it swings open and he blinks his Eagle Vision away. Clutching his arm, he straightens with a pained grunt and stands at his full height.
'I will handle this,' he instructs firmly, instinctively placing himself just in front of Adira as a staggering inebriate begins to roar a command and swipes a bottle from the nearest table.
'Oi, barkeep! I need a round o' drinks for me and my… '
The staggering man pulls the bottle from his lips as his blurred vision finally rests upon the towering and imposing figure of the Grand Master standing at the bar whose cool, steel gaze is fixed completely on him.
'Good evening, Thomas,' Haytham greets evenly, hiding his pain behind a brief smile.
Thomas staggers forwards, eyes snapping to the contraption surrounding the gaping wound on Haytham's arm and to the blood staining his usually meticulous attire.
'Jesus 'aytham. What the hell 'appened to you?' Thomas questions thickly as he scratches the back of his head which causes his tricorn to slip.
Adira presses her elbows into the top of the bar and risks a quick glance at the man, who appeared to wear a continually scornful expression when he wasn't apparently bewildered. Her gaze wanders back to the broad shoulder and protective stance of Haytham. Even in pain, he held his head high and exuded both power and control. Adira noted the slight clench in his jaw as he indulged Thomas' question and she slipped back behind him, heeding his advice whilst considering what business a Grand Master might have with a drunkard who appeared to epitomise disorder.
'An untimely encounter with a wolf. Is William with you?' Haytham queries, his steel gaze lifting to the open door of the tavern.
'Aye. He's just sortin' the 'orses. Ain't you goin' to get that seen to? I think Church is...,'
'I assure you that I am in capable hands, Thomas,' Haytham smiles warmly before stepping aside a little and indicating to the woman he had shielded from Thomas' gaze.
'Thomas Hickey, this is -'
'The Hurri-Kane. I knows all abou' you.' Thomas' gaze drops down to Adira's sodden and blood-smattered shirt as his mind wanders. 'Always fancied a couple o' rounds in the ring with you,' he grins salaciously before winking and slugging back a heavy draft of rum from the bottle.
'Bold of you to assume you'd last that long,' Adira retorts coolly, pulling an amused huff from Thomas and a brief half-smile from Haytham which he hides beneath his tricorn. Pressing her thumbs into her palm, her attention is drawn to the clink of glass on wood and the polite cough of the bar-man.
'Much obliged,' Adira nods appreciatively before reaching into the depths of her frock coat.
Haytham rests his hand on hers causing the brawler to pause and meet his gaze quizzically.
'Please, allow me,' he insists before reaching into his own pocket and twisting a little to place the collection of coins into the palm of the beaming bar-keep. Before the softly wheezing gentleman can begin to count out change, Haytham raises a hand and smiles weakly through his increasingly drawn expression.
'Keep it. You have been most generous.'
'Thank you, Mister. First room on the left,' the bar-keep explains and indicates up the stairs.
As Haytham turns to address Thomas again, he gasps painfully. Gripping his arm, he falters as he twists. Adira seizes him and presses his slumping weight into her.
'Easy. Let's get you upstairs, Master Kenway. Before you keel over,' Adira instructs firmly, resting her hand on his chest and meeting his tired gaze with an intensity he decided not to argue with. Slipping the smaller items into her pockets from the bar, Adira grips the neck of the whiskey bottle and shifts swiftly to slip under Haytham's good arm.
The Grand Master hisses through his teeth. Dipping his head, he screws his eyes shut and inhales deeply, taking comfort from the feel of Adira's fingers wrapped in his.
'I will need your assistance, Thomas,' Adira states honestly, looking at the younger gentleman who appeared to be at a complete loss for how to proceed. She inclines her head to the key resting on the bar as she adjusts Haytham's hold on her gently.
'Aye. Though don't ask me to 'elp with no stitchin' mind,' he responds before sliding the room key from the top of the bar. With a final swig of his rum, he slams the bottle down and drags his drunken weight up the stairs just ahead of the pair.
'Get him to the bed,' Adira instructs, transferring Haytham's weight to Thomas before she retrieves the key from the lock and closes the door. Slipping the key into the pocket of her breeches, she rests the whiskey bottle on top of the chest of drawers beside the door. Driving her hands into her frock coat pockets, she extracts the clean rags and honey and wraps her fingers around the spool of thread and the needle nestled in it.
With a heavy slump, Haytham slides from Thomas and releases a pained groan as his weight finally comes to rest on the unforgiving mattress. Perching there precariously, Thomas holds his shoulder and turns his attention to the young woman. Before he can ask his question, Adira turns her head a little to address him from over her shoulder.
'Cut through the ties around his arm and help him undress. I need to get to the wound.'
Turning her head back rapidly, she drops her frock coat from her shoulders and throws it over the chest of drawers.
'Right you are missus,' Thomas nods and turns his attention to Haytham who has already doffed his tricorn and placed it as his side. Reaching into the folds of his jacket, Thomas pulls out a short blade and flicks it beneath the stockings, slicing through the fabric with ease. Haytham releases a pained gasp as the tension across the wound finally releases. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he flexes his fingers and begins to fumble at clasps and buttons. He inhales quickly and grimaces briefly as Thomas helps him pull his clothing and weapons from him.
Reaching into the pocket of her breeches again, Adira pulls a length of black ribbon from its depths and wrestles her wild and damp hair into a rough pony-tail. Rolling up her sleeves, she uncorks the whiskey and bundles the first clean rag together in her palm. Inhaling deeply, she prepares herself not for the surgical task ahead, but for controlling her reaction on seeing Haytham's bare chest and torso for the first time. For his sake, and her own, it was paramount that she did not reveal the nature of their recent association to Thomas - though he was one of the Grand Master's disciples, Adira knew the only member of The Order who had any inclination regarding their affections was Shay.
Forcing a decisive puff of air through her nose, Adira steels herself against her thoughts before committing to turning on her heel. Wrenching the wooden chair from the corner of the room up by its top bar, she paces directly to the bed. Setting the chair down in front of Haytham, she focuses intently on the wound snaking up his bicep. Her gaze snaps to Thomas who recoils at the sight. Shaking her head, she douses the clean cloth in a slosh of whiskey and thrusts the bottle into his idle hands.
'Hold this,' she says, her expression evidently conveying her intended warning as Thomas grips the bottle tightly and refrains from raising it to his lips.
Snapping her gaze back to the wound, Adira retrieves the soaked rag from her lap and gently wraps her fingers around Haytham's wrist. With gentle coaxing, she manages to extend his arm and rest the back of his hand on her lap. Determined to remain disconnected, Adira does not allow her gaze to deviate.
Haytham watches Adira intently. An imperceptible smile graces his lips as he watches her brow furrow with concentration. His stomach clenches tightly as she pulls in her bottom lip and douses his open wound carefully. His gaze shifts to her calloused knuckles and blood-stained fingers pressing the fabric to his damaged flesh so delicately. His own fingers curl up into a fist, causing his deep flexor to push through his forearm as he hisses and straightens at the searing pain burning through the bite. Adira runs the rag down the entire length of the gaping bite. The blood soon soaks through the crisp fabric and reveals the clean but deep wound beneath.
Throwing the blood-stained rag over her shoulder, Adira's gaze once again shifts to Thomas.
'The needle and thread if you don't mind please, Thomas.'
'You a doc as well as a figh'er then Kane?' Thomas queries as he paces to the chest of drawers and retrieves the needle and thread. His gaze rests on the pot of honey set aside by a longer length of clean linen cloth and he arches his eyebrow curiously. Turning on his heel, he shuffles towards the bed, stretching his arm and placing the thread and needle into Adira's waiting palm.
'I have sewn up every Boston Brawler at least once. Thunder Jack - multiple times,' Adira states as she straightens and extracts the needle from the spool. Risking a quick glance at Haytham, she notices the smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the mention of Adrian and the painful consequences of his antics. The Grand Master made a mental note to ask Adira just how many times she had sewn Adrian up and if she had been the one to inflict the wounds in the first place.
Snapping her gaze back before Thomas can notice, Adira leans towards the bedside table and to the flickering candle sat upon it. Pinching the eye of the needle firmly, she rotates the metallic length of the needle in the flame and watches the fire lick the metal and engulf it momentarily.
'I ain't got much of a stomach for surgery,' Thomas admits, averting his gaze and swallowing hard.
'It's alright, Thomas. Find William and inform him of the situation,' instructs Haytham, eyeing up the needle in the flame and the blood-stained fingers rotating it slowly.
'Right away, Master Kenway,' Thomas nods and seizes the opportunity to vacate the room and distance himself from the imminent surgery with surprising haste - the bottle of whiskey still held tightly in his grip.
With a distinct click, the latch on the door engages and Haytham turns his full attention to Adira.
'I'm impressed,' he whispers. 'If I didn't know any better, I'd be convinced you had no feelings for me at all…' he states with a tired but genuine smile as his gaze continues to rest on Adira's pale countenance. The flicker of candlelight illuminates her strong side-profile and dances across the silver scar stretching across her crimson-flecked cheek.
'Then you are blessed to know better…' Adira replies as she uses the light of the candle to thread the needle, purposefully avoiding Haytham's intense and heated gaze but unable to force the knowing smile from her own lips. She knew it would only be a matter of time before Thomas returned with William and it was taking every ounce of her strength to remain visibly composed. Adira had seen her fair share of half-dressed men - she knew Adrian's chest and torso well enough to know when he had invested in a new tattoo, but this was different - Haytham was different. The deep and pleasant ache which swelled in her core when she was near him was different. Wetting her lips at the thought, she tugs the thread through the eye with a satisfied hum.
A rapping knock snaps their attention to the door.
'Brace yourself - I'll try and be gentle,' Adira mutters, unwilling to interrupt any future discussions but wishing to prepare Haytham for the impending pain whilst he spoke to William. Haytham turns his gaze to her for a moment and nods, a brief smile curling his lips which quickly disappears as his attention snaps back to the door and to the louder, insistent knocking.
Biting her lip and leaning a little closer, Adira thumbs the torn skin delicately and pushes the sharp point of the needle through Haytham's flesh. The deep flexor in his forearm tightens and relaxes again. Hissing a little, he wriggles his fingers and straightens.
'Enter,' he states clearly, masking his exhaustion, discomfort and pain remarkably well. Adira imagined he was well practiced in such undertakings.
Haytham audibly sighs as Charles blusters through the door with as much grace as a metaphorical bovine in a fine porcelain establishment. A distinctly uncomfortable Thomas traipses in behind him, risking another look down the stairs to locate the man he had actually been sent to collect.
'I knew you would have something to do with this,' Charles spits at Adira, his countenance thunderous as he eyes her abhorrently.
'Charles - control yourself,' Haytham placates quietly.
Charles throws his hands in the air and rounds on Thomas, hoping for support in his argument.
'Control myself! You see!? I told you she'd lead him astray - that wolf could have killed him!'
Thrusting his weight back, he balls his fists and practically shouts as he points emphatically to the young woman tending to Haytham, who appears unfazed by his tirade.
Haytham rests his throbbing forehead in his hand and screws his eyes shut as his anger swells.
Adira's eyes deviate to the Grand Master's drawn expression and to the tightness in his bicep and he clenches his fist.
'Gallivanting around the frontier with this...this - ' Charles continues.
'Enough!'
Every pair of eyes snap to the source of the command which has rendered the room silent.
Though Haytham had straightened to demand silence, Adira had beaten him to it and now he looked at her in both astonishment and awe.
With her body still stooped over his injured arm and her surprisingly nimble fingers pulling the length of thread taut, she raises her head and locks her intense gaze on the blustering form of Charles.
'The Grand Master is evidently wounded and tired. He does not wish to hear your inane prattle, Charles. So -,' she drops her gaze and pushes the needle through Haytham's skin again,'- either pipe down or... And please don't misinterpret my meaning-,' she raises her head again and stares at him fiercely, '- get the fuck out.'
Adira's even and calm delivery did little to mask the threat held in her final words. Haytham had no doubt the young woman would act without hesitation if Charles decided to continue his tirade. Though her words were ice cold and pointed, the fire behind her eyes whipped wildy and caused the Grand Master's skin to prickle pleasantly under her touch.
Sputtering and turning his gaze to Haytham, Charles desperately searches the man's countenance for some sign that he had every intention of berating the young upstart for addressing a member of his inner circle so disrespectfully.
Haytham looks at Charles, determined to remain calm despite his own anger at the man. 'Charles. Please locate William and inform him that I wish to speak to him urgently.'
With obvious frustration, Charles nods but flicks his gaze back to Adira with renewed intensity.
'I want to speak to you when you have finished tending to Master Kenway,' Charles huffs quietly, pointing at her as spit flies from his lips through stained teeth.
Rolling her shoulders, the brawler dips her head and concentrates as she continues to pull the thread through Haytham's skin carefully, having almost drawn the wound back together entirely.
'I look forward to it,' she states nonchalantly, unfazed by Charles' hollow words. Haytham's gaze softens as he considers the young woman tending to him. A warmth spreads through him as he takes a moment to admire her candour and her concern for his welfare despite being unjustly antagonised.
Seething with rage, Charles angrily ushers a thoroughly amused Thomas out of the room. Without a second glance, the disgruntled Templar slams the door shut and thunders down the tavern stairs, raving to, a now less amused, Thomas.
'William often reminds me that Charles' heart is in the right place,' Haytham reflects in exasperation. His words are heavy as he rests his forehead in his palm once again. His temples continue to throb beneath his fingertips.
'One must wonder about the precise location of his brain…' Adira retorts mockingly, pulling an amused huff from Haytham as he pulls himself up and rests his arm lazily on his thigh. Smiling in return, she ties off the thread and severs it with her teeth. Pushing her weight back in the chair, she abandons the excess thread and the needle on the bedside table and examines the stitches closely.
Wrapping her fingers gently around Haytham's bicep, she thumbs the skin apart carefully before turning her attention to the clean length of linen and the honey still sat upon the drawers near the door.
'Colour me intrigued,' he smiles as his gaze follows Adira's to the golden, sticky substance contained in the glass jar. A suggestive smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches the young woman stand and move to retrieve both it and the bundle of clean fabric.
Despite the ache in his arm and the sudden weight of exhaustion bearing down on him, Haytham's mind snaps to a rather distracting and deeply satisfying vision of the young woman before him.
A young woman who cared about him.
He glances towards the door.
'It is strictly for medicinal purposes…' Adira replies over her shoulder as she slips the bloodied rag from her shoulder and tosses it to the side. Reaching for the jar, she pops the lid with one swift twist and busies herself with soaking an arm's length of the clean cloth in the honey.
A sudden warmth permeates through the thin cotton of her shirt, causing her breath to hitch.
'Now that is a shame…' Haytham breathes as he presses his body to hers and places a delicate kiss into the crook of her neck. His hot breath causes her skin to prickle pleasantly. An involuntary and breathy moan leaves Adira's lips as she inclines her head to expose more of her bare skin with a satisfied exhale. Haytham obliges and feathers his lips across her sensitive flesh, relishing the moment her eyes flutter shut as she surrenders to his touch.
'William will be here soon…' Adira murmurs, abandoning the cloth and reaching up to caress Haytham's neck as he sighs contentedly. His strong hands wrap around her waist and coax her into him. The planes of his chest and the tight, rigid muscles in his abdomen press through her shirt, warming her skin and allowing her to inhale his musk and his heat.
'We have time,' he whispers. His breath fans over the curve of her ear as his hands guide her around slowly, allowing her to face him properly in his entirety.
Resting her fingers gently in the crooks of his arms, Adira's eyes fix on the beautiful maelstroms now gazing at her. A smile tugs at the corner of Haytham's mouth as he brushes a loose twirl of hair behind her ear and watches her eyes flutter shut briefly at this delicate touch.
'It's my turn to tease,' he murmurs with a smile as he feathers her neck softly with his thumb. Parting her lips slowly, Adira finally allows her gaze and her fingers to deviate and wander over him.
Her dark pupils widen as she reaches up tentatively before running her fingers down his pectorals slowly, intent on feeling every inch of him and committing the feeling to memory. Her fingertips graze over the collection of scars spread across his chest and shoulders - each one pale and faded but ever-present. Adira slips her palm onto his chest and feels her thrumming pulse match the quickening rhythm of his strong heart. The hot ache in her stomach explodes as she notes the definition in his hips which disappear into his pale breeches. The power held in every inch of his form causes a pleasant haze to fill her mind. Pulling in her lip, her hands wander down further to trace his defined torso and the firm muscles in his abdomen.
With every lingering touch, Haytham's skin grows increasingly heated and his thoughts wander to the feel of Adira's lips as he pressed soft and sensual kisses to them in the rain. His soft gaze wanders down to her her full lips as he inhales her scent - a mixture of lavender with traces of the whiskey she had used to clean his wound. His head rolls forward as he holds Adira's waist. His eyes close in peaceful contentment as he savours the young woman in her entirety.
Adira's head tilts a little as she slides her hand up and feathers the knotted skin below his chest which snakes across his side and appears to twitch and tighten frequently. A small smile tugs as Haytham's lips as he lifts his head slowly, knowing Adira would have questions about the scar she had soothed when they had sparred together.
On hearing a small sigh escape Haytham's lips, Adira rests her hand on the twisted flesh and thumbs it softly. A thoughtfulness fills her expression as her gaze wanders back to his. A silent question forms on her lips. Unable to hold her gaze, Haytham dips his head and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply before he allows his heavy words to tumble from him.
'In my youth, I chose to obey my mentor blindly. I captured a young boy and his mother under the falsehood that they were to be treated fairly by Reginald in return for translating a document of immense value to The Order. The boy and his mother were treated like beasts of burden and when I finally released them, the boy quite rightly plunged my sword through my chest.'
Adira's wide eyes flit back down to the scar and to the twisted flesh intertwining Haytham's toned muscles.
'It is a burden I must bear for my sins,' Haytham chastises himself quietly, faltering as he realises the magnitude of the truth he has shared - a truth known only to himself, to his sister and to his dear friend, Holden. He rests his hand over Adira's as it sits on his chest and gently rises and falls with his long breaths.
'You need not carry that burden alone,' Adira says quietly, causing Haytham's gaze to snap up and lock with hers. His breath slows as his eyes search hers - her earthen gaze holds only warmth and understanding. Pressing her palm comfortingly into his scar, Adira shifts her weight and closes the imperceptible space between them.
'How can I possibly tease you now…' he mutters quietly, smiling as Adira's lips ghost over his. Her bright smile tightens her crimson-flecked cheeks as she presses her lean body into his - her hand still resting on his scar as he leans in and presses a soft and heated kiss to her lips. With their eyes fluttering shut, they incline their heads and brush their lips together feverishly - devouring each other and drawing their bodies together tightly like the knots in their stomachs.
Haytham slides his arm around Adira's waist and slips it beneath her shirt, resting his palm on the small of her back - desperate to pull her closer and hold her for as long as possible. Feeling the heat radiate from him, Adira stretches her hand up to the nape of his neck and deepens their kiss - savouring his taste as he splays his hand across her back.
Enraptured in the passion of the moment and the feel of each other's bodies, the polite knock at the door takes a moment to register with either of them.
'Master Kenway?' A voice thick with an Irish lilt and heavy with age and experience calls from the other side of the door.
Breathless and dizzy with the heavy haze of desire shrouding their heads, the pair risk a final chaste kiss before unlocking their lips. Haytham places the crook of his finger beneath Adira's chin as her lips curl into a bright smile which he returns.
'Master Kenway?' The voice calls again - worry laced through it.
'Responsibility has come to claim me again, Miss Kane...' Haytham breathes quietly as he pulls his hand from her back and brushes his thumb over her lips, which are reddened and plump from their fervent kissing.
'You're fortunate that I have the patience of a saint, Grand Master...' Adira retorts with a knowing smile, pulling an amused and muffled chuckle from Haytham as she breaks away from him and reaches for the honey-soaked cloth. Attempting to force the amused smile from her lips, she inclines her head - indicating for Haytham to lift his recently-stitched arm.
'Come in, William,' Haytham announces, his voice a little hoarse from kissing.
Adira fails to hide the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she turns her back to the door and begins to wrap the cloth around Haytham's bicep. As the latch clicks, Haytham releases a considered breath and risks one last look at Adira's beautiful smile. With the wood of the door creaking and the floorboards complaining, she presses the fabric softly into Haytham's stitches before pulling the remaining length taut and looping it around his arm.
'I'm relieved to see you are in one piece, Haytham,' William says, his furrowed brow relaxing as he realises that Thomas' description had been a tad dramatic. His bright eyes wander to Adira as she ties off the make-shift bandage and steps away, allowing Haytham to roll his shoulder and flex his arm.
'Owing to the medical knowledge of this young woman, I can assure you,' Haytham praises as Adira's eyes meet his briefly. Forcing a steadied breath to quell the heat in her cheeks, she turns and offers her hand to the older gentleman. William eyes her up intently and his eyebrow arches - considering Charles' ranting regarding Haytham's new recruit and Thomas' salacious musings.
William would not be swayed by either opinion. Haytham trusted her and that was an impressive start.
'William Johnson, this is Adira Kane,' Haytham says as he reaches for his shirt from the end of the bed and manages to pull it over his body, despite the stiffness and ache in his arm. Though the bloodied tears exposed some of the make-shift bandage and scratched skin beneath, it was at least still marginally wearable. It would certainly do for now.
William closes his fingers around Adira's and shakes firmly, offering her a cordial smile. Adira recalls his name and the vague memory of Charles clutching a letter for Haytham at the docks.
'Pleasure to meet you,' she says with a bright smile and a nod before she retracts her hand.
The older man's calculating eyes wander to her calloused knuckles and to the faded scar along her cheek as she brushes past Haytham to collect the spool of thread and the jar of honey. The Grand Master turns his attention to her for a moment, risking a brief smile which he hides from William. Stopping short, Adira reaches into the pocket of her frock coat and retrieves her money pouch before addressing both Haytham and William.
'I shall return these to the bar-keep and organise food, Grand Master. I will return momentarily,' Adira states, dipping her head a little as she departs from both men's company and pulls the door closed with a quiet click.
Releasing a tense breath, she wipes her brow and descends the stairs into the continued chaos of the tavern - desperate for a stiff drink to calm her colliding thoughts and the rapidly unravelling knot in her stomach.
'Forgive me Grand Master, but what reason drove you to travel to the frontier to speak to me personally?' William asks quizzically, watching as Haytham perches on the edge of the bed as he considers his response.
He raises his head and a knowing smile curls his lips.
'The reason just left to get herself a drink.'