Thanks for all the amazing reviews! To say thanks, here is the romance you have been waiting for!
Eggs were incredibly hard to eat with your non dominant hand, as was holding a fork when you were used to holding it in the other hand, and both hands were still stiff from falling off of a horse.
Nicholls half guessed that at least one finger on his left hand was broken, something he had realised after the searing pain through his hand when he picked up his fork.
Eliza, never slow to notice something, swatted at his hand when he tried to pick the fork up again.
"Please desist. I had to set three fingers which you had broken, and I fear the bone might have splintered. Heavens knows how you managed to do that. In either case, I am certain in the belief you should rest your hand. I had entertained the idea it might have mended quickly enough to be relatively painless to use, but I seem to have been mistaken."
Nicholls gave a sigh and rested his now extremely tender hand on the table. His stomach grumbled at him, and he considered picking up the fork again and pretending it didn't hurt anymore.
Eliza, the secret glutton she was, finished off her plate in a matter of seconds and shuffled her chair closer to Nicholls'. Her nimble fingers beat Nicholls' slow and painful ones to the fork, and she speared a piece of sausage and held it at mouth height for the young captain.
Nicholls' face reddened, but Eliza smiled unassumingly at him.
"I shan't have you starve, Captain."
Eliza prodded at the air in front of Nicholls' mouth, and after swallowing most of his pride, Nicholls allowed her to feed him the contents of his plate.
Eliza smiled and put the fork on the now empty plate.
"Was that not easy?"
"Miss-"
"Eliza."
Nicholls gave a little swallow. He was unused to informality with young women.
"Eliza... You have my thanks. For everything."
Eliza gave a genuine smile at that, and Nicholls almost felt like he had been shot again, right through the heart, but in a good way. He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry, and reached for a glass of water.
Eliza reached, too, and their fingers touched for what seemed like thousands of seconds, Eliza's burning their imprint into Nicholls'. Eliza, either noticing or choosing not to notice the blush that rose again to colour the young captain's cheeks, curled her fingers around the glass and held it to Nicholls' lips.
"You wanted a drink, did you not?"
Nicholls gingerly allowed her to help him drink, keeping his eyes cast low. Eliza gave a small smile, his tactic backfiring.
"You have lovely cheekbones," she almost sung, brushing a thumb along them. "I do love to draw, but alas, my only model was only ever be Hedda. And bless her, but there was never much shape to her face."
Each stroke along his face was like a brand. He tried to keep his voice steady.
"You like to draw?"
Eliza gave another smile, her head tilting sideways slightly.
"Yes, I adore it. One of my favourite pastimes."
Back and forth went her thumb, until she retrieved it and it stoked one last line that smoothed over the edge of his top lip. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart.
Eliza had produced a comb and was behind him when he reopened his eyes. The teeth of the comb pulled soothingly over his scalp, the dancing trail of her fingers never far behind.
"I suppose you don't want horrible knots when you finally regain use of one of your hands?" Eliza questioned, as she pulled the comb through his hair.
"Quite right," Nicholls managed to reply.
The comb left his hair and Eliza took her seat next to him again. Had he not before noticed how her eyes sparkled with such joy? And how her hair shone, lustrous like the black wings of a fallen angel?
Before his mind could even comprehend what he was doing, he leant closer to her, his face edging nearer and nearer to hers. Her eyes widened as his lips touched hers, but she didn't move back.
There was a flicking warmth against her lips, and she slowly let Nicholls' tongue in, creeping her hand around his neck to bury the ends of her fingers in his hair. Time seemed to span on for an eternity, and after a while, Eliza allowed herself to be pulled onto Nicholls' lap, wrapping her other arm around his neck as his arm encircled her waist. She was careful not to press on his right arm, still in a sling over his chest, as she pressed herself closer to him. This was entirely new to both of them, yet so natural it seemed it had been there the entire time.
Was it not natural to fall in love with a girl who had saved your life?
Was it not normal to yearn after a handsome soldier, whose life you held in your hands?
Eliza considered the latter, her fingers tracing circles on the back of Nicholls' neck, drawing little shudders from him.
Because she was indeed in love.