In one swift and sudden motion, Esme could feel her herself be yanked right out from where she stood.

It was great timing on Dr. Cullen's part for the second he pulled her out by her wrist, a great branch fell on the spot where she stood, plopping on the muddy ground with a great thud.

He took her to the side, "Are you alright?" Carlisle asked, holding her by the shoulders.

"I think so, but something's burning. I feel something burning on my ankle," She said, a little breathless at her near escape from being crushed.

Even in the pouring rain, in the thick darkness, Carlisle Cullen's vision remained unaffected as he looked her over with a practiced eye. He then instantly, without needing to have seen the wound, smelled the blood that oozed from the cut in her ankle. Carlisle then carefully raised the hem on her dress, to asses the degree of damage the wound was in, to which he was pleased to learn that it was not as severe as he anticipated.

Esme stood there more anxious than patient, feeling his fingers prod her skin, "Is the wound very bad?" She inquired after a minute.

"No, but we shall need to dress the wound soon, to avoid any infection. I may have some antiseptic to clean it with later. Come along, we need to get out of the storm. The Inn is just right along this way." Dr. Cullen replied as he stood up.

Esme could feel his hand in between the blades of her shoulder, guiding her along once again till finally they reached a door.

Soon thereafter, they found themselves amongst what seemed to be a pub filled with the noise and banter of rowdy townsfolk.

It was only in this moment, as Carlisle escorted her across the room like a stone-guard, that Esme was thankful to be blind; for she was able to avoid the curious stares of the patrons in the room that were directed at them openly.

Esme could feel the tension in his grip, as they passed a table that seemed to be occupied by three boisterous men; clinking their glasses in unison, the ringing cacophony of their voices a loud ingsignia of their inebriated merriment. Just when they both passed by, she caught the scent of an assorted array of alcohol, smoked meat, and of local tobacco.

The whole room in fact, she thought, smelled musty, and old; of sawdust, soot, and liqeur. Oddly, she did not find it appaling, nor, atrocious. In fact she found it rather intruiging, and a challenge as she tried to decipher the many smells that wafted itself before her olfactory.

A few moments after they entered the pub. They were greeted by an older, heavy-set looking man; with a heavy mustache, and who wore dungarees that appeared to be weathered and worn from repeated use.

Esme kept her mouth closed as Carlisle and, the man who was revealed to her as the Innkeeper, began an exchange in converse.

"Evenin'." Greeted the man, with a mild mid-land accent.

"Good evening." Carlisle greeted formally, his voice rather stiff. "I would like to have one of your lodgings, for this evening. Can that be arranged?"

"Yes, sir. We have a lot of room in fact. We don't get a lot of visitors at this time of the year, especially during this squall. Will you be our only guest sir?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Answered Dr. Cullen. At this, Esme's head peeked from behind Carlisle's back from where she stood. The Innkeeper saw her immediately and said, "Ohh, I see. Yer, travelin' with yer daughter?"

"She's not my daughter...She is a ward of Mrs. Charlotte Evenson..." Carlisle said tactfully, "I'm her guardian. I was to bring her to Thucklewood Grange when the storm broke out-"

The Innkeeper gave a dry chortle, "Sorry to inform you sir, but you won't be able to travel to the Grange, for at least four days. The roads will not be convinient for travel by horse, or carrige. It will not be passable until the ground has dried."

Carlisle was quiet for a moment.

"I see." He uttered, his voice thick with thought. "Very well," He spoke again, coming to an important decision, "The rooms shall have to do for now."

"Very good sir, shall you need help with your luggage?"

"No, its quite alright."

"Very well sir, right this way." Said the Innkeeper as he flanked them both upon ascending a small staircase.

The burly man lead them through a long hall, then stopped at the last corner. Taking out a key in his pocket, he opened the door.

"Will this be satisfactory, sir?" Asked the Innkeeper.

Carlisle stepped inside, with Esme trailing not far behind him, inspected the room with a keen eye.

The room was rather large, with a plain-looking desk and chair near the window; a washstand and basin in another corner (with a dressing screen situated beside it), a meduim-sized bed complete with a night-stand in the middle of the room, and finally to the corner, a small fireplace that had a worn but clean easy-chair that was facing it. The paneling was a little dreary, but should suffice, the room was terribly modest - but could be livable.

"Yes," Carlisle answered after a moment, "This should be quite alright."

"Very good, sir." Replied the man, as he walked over to the Doctor and handed him the key. "Is there anything else you would like sir?" Inquired the man.

Carlisle caught the sight of Esme wandering into the room as she took of the hat he had lent her. "Yes, perhaps a spot of tea and a nice hot meal could be arranged?"

"Right away, sir." And with a nod, the man exited the room quickly.

"I'm cold." Esme said quietly, her voice tired.

Before he responded, Carlisle discarded his damp coat and hung it on the chair near the desk.

"Come here," He called to her. Carlisle watched as Esme made her way towards him.

"The reason you are cold," He scolded sternly but mildly, as he took the bowler hat she held, and began unbuttoning the coat he made her wear earlier, "Is because you lacked the insight to discard of your wet clothes." once he had finished removing the equally drenched piece of clothing, he draped it beside his on the chair.

"Go sit near the fireplace, I'll have a fire started momentarily."

Wordlessly she followed his orders and found her way across the room. And with a resigned gesture, plopped herself softly on the old easy-chair, as an inaudible sigh escaped her lips.

Doctor Cullen then proceeded with the arrangement of their belongings, beginning with the moving of her enormous trunk to the foot of the bed for easy accsess. And as for his luggage compared to hers, which was a tad smaller in that respect, placed it underneath the wooden desk - for his own private and personal accsess.

He then took his black medical bag and set it on the washstand. Before doing anything else further, Carlisle rolled up his sleeve and headed to the fireplace.

The storm that could be heard outside was still quite strong, for even the sound of lightning shook the walls with a fervent tremor.

"I hate it when lightning does that." Esme mumbled, a lilt of agitation in her soft voice. A moment later, she could sense Carlisle place a log in the hearth, followed by a sound of him striking a match to ignite a flame.

"Don't you hate it?" Esme queried curiously.

"Hate what precisely?" Carlisle responded, whilst carefully nurturing the growing flame in the hearth.

"Never mind."

Carlisle looked at her with a piercing gaze, the fireplace now occupied with a bright and cheerful fire, "This is not a matter of what you are trying to say, but rather what you are trying to conceal yourself from saying. Is that not so?" He stated sagely.

She was contemplative for a moment, knowing full well that he was right. "I don't really know in all honesty...perhaps I'm simply tired." She muttered lamely, placing a hand to her forehead. "I don't know why I feel like this...I feel so...displaced...so-"

"Disoriented?" He finished the sentence for her.

"Yes, very."

"Its not unusual," Carlisle stated as he rose from his position near the fireplace, "And you aren't quite used to traveling I presume?"

"I don't really remember much of any travels, if there were any, as a little girl. After I was sent to live with my grandmother, I did very little else, aside from her constant tutoring and such. Now that I think about it, it was a very isolating life. One has the feeling of being shut off from the world, I suppose living in closed quarters for a porlonged period of time can have that certain effects on one's mind."

"Yes, but its nothing quite serious. Only a period of adjustment."

"Is anxiety a part of it?"

"Oftentimes, yes."

Esme was about to say something else, but Carlisle's words halted her , "One moment, I'd like to take a look at that wound on your ankle."

She listened to his gait as he walked to the opposite end of the room, then returning to her a moment later.

Carlisle distributed the items carefully on the floor as he grabbed a foot-stool to sit on. Then facing her, he said, "Alright, let's have a look shall we?"

Esme bit her lip, and offered Carlisle her right ankle. Then very carefully, he removed her shoe. Even in the firelight it was evident that though the cut was not deep, it certainly ran a length of at least three inches across her ankle.

"Is the wound deep?" Esme asked, her tone worried.

"Not quite, but it is quite larger than I expected." Carlisle answered. He hid the note of disconcert in his voice as he spoke again, "Esme, there is something I wish to ask you...but I do not wish to embarrass you, only that-"

"Yes Doctor?"

"Well it seems that a portion of your stocking has stuck to your wound, and I'm afraid I cannot thoroughly disinfect the wound unless the stocking itself is removed. Or I can cut around the area-"

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Is the stocking very tattered?"

"Regretfully so."

"Then its alright, go ahead and cut away."

There was a fraction of an awkward pause.

"Very well."

Doctor Cullen then proceeded with the task of cutting the area of stocking that was sticking to the wound, mindful of the metal scissors that glided coldly against her skin with each snip. Then meticulously, he began to peel the remnants of the blood-soaked cloth that was starting to stick around the open wound, and discarded the pieces into the fireplace. Esme did not say a word throughout the process, but cringed with discomfort when Carlisle had begun to apply the antiseptic.

He was about a minute and a half into applying it, when she pulled her ankle away slightly.

"Don't move." He commanded, holding her ankle firmly in place, adding more solution to the wound.

"It burns," Esme reasoned, trying once again to pull away, this time with more effort.

"Its meant to, if it doesn't sting then its not doing its job properly. You don't want gangrene do you?" He answered deftly as he started the process of wrapping the wound in gauze.

"I don't think I want to know."

"Good girl."

After two more minutes, he finished dressing her wound and started placing his instruments back into the black medical bag.

"That should heal within a few days." He anounced as he stood up.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Though she could not see him directly, she could make out a nod as he walked to the opposite end of the room.

Shortly after returning his medical bag to its place, he walked back over to her.

Leaning close to the chair, he said, "Perhaps I should ask the Innkeeper regarding that meal I requested, and see if its ready?"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry Doctor, I didn't know you were hungry."

"No, I'm not hungry. The meal is for you, I only merely elected to see if its finished. And so that you may have time to...to..." His voice trailed off uncharacteristically.

"To...change out of my traveling clothes?" She added innocently.

"Yes. Unfortunately since we are in this position of sharing a room, I think it is only most proper that I give you privacy in your dressing rituals." He said tonelessly.

"Doctor...are you embaressed?" She asked, inwardly amused.

"Certainly not. What an absurd implication."

Esme smothered a chuckle.

"Doctor, you don't have to leave the room. If I guessed correctely, there is a dressing screen is there not?"

"There is one. But it is highly unsuitable for me to remain here whilst you are...changing."

Esme, "Of course," She concurred, not wishing further embaressment for either of them, now that she thought better of it.

"That settles it then." He concluded. "I shall go, I'll be back in a while."

"Yes, Doctor."

About approximately thirty minutes later, Carlisle strode through the hallway carrying a tray filled with food, and a pot of hot tea as he was returning to the room.

He paused as he reached the door and knocked.

There was no answer, and so he knocked again. But still no one came to the door. A little agitated as to why she was so tardy in answering, he reached for the doorknob and entered; finding a very apologetic Esme clutching her traveling dress against herself, to hide the chemise and corset she wore underneath.

"I beg your pardon." Said Carlisle, immediately making a move to leave the room.

"No, Doctor wait! Please come inside, and close the door." Said Esme, a sense of haste and consternation in her tone.

Carlisle eyed her studiously as he set the tray of food at a nearby table.

"I would have been more properly dressed now, I assure you..." She explained, her cheeks an animated shade of pink, "But Judith was the only one who used to help me with my...corset...and you did suggest that I change my attire..."

"And?" Was all he said, arching a brow.

"I can't seem to undo the lacing myself. I can't reach it...I know this is rather unpleasant and awkward of me but...please will you help me? If you can undo it halfway down, I can handle the rest."

He sighed, a breath of hesitation in his nostrils. "Alright then, turn around."

Gratefully, she did as he ordered.

A short while later she felt his spectre of a presence behind her. And slowly, tediously, she felt him begin to undo the lace. Esme stood there as she could feel the tautness of her garment begin to come loose at each unraveling of lace his fingers had undone.

Finally, after Carlisle finished undoing the last bit of lace; his eyes were tempted for a moment to linger on the white softness of skin that was exposed to him, tracing invisible lines that lead to the nape of her neck, and back down to where the spine sloped and straightened.

He felt his hands grow still when Esme turned around quite suddenly to face him; still clutching her dress against herself. He looked into her face and saw the many emotions that were as bare as her naked skin; emotions of fear, the confusion of adolesence, and the inceptions of a repressed flickering desire uncomprehended yet by her young mind.

He could see that her lips were parted, as though in question.

Before she could begin to say anything, he extracted his hands from her arms.

"Get dressed." He said darkly, before storming out of the room.

A/N: Hey guys! I am so sorry for not updating in the longest time, I got so busy lately, BUT now I'm back and I am so thankful to each and every one of you lovely creatures out there who have read, reviewed, and supported this story. You guys are gems! Stay tuned for the next chapter my darlings! ;)

God Bless