Chapter 2

After trying unsuccessfully to sleep for several more hours, I finally get out of the bed at half past six and take a shower in the hopes that I can become more alert. Frustrated with myself, the dream still vivid in my brain, I feel a wave of embarrassment flood my body. How am I going to make eye contact with George today without him knowing somehow?

Dressing in a pair of gray trousers and a pale pink sweater, I leave my room to go to George's. Knocking, I hear him say to enter, and I push open the door. He is sitting on top of the bed, but is wearing a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms, while reading a book.

He places a bookmark inside, closing the book, and setting it beside him.

Holding out his hand to me, I go to him, squeezing it tightly.

"You look better this morning," I say.

"I feel a bit better. I got up a few minutes ago and did some stretches. It's tight still, but not spasming at least."

"I'm glad.'

There is a pause as he regards me, before he whispers, "Lass, what made you come back last night?"

I look down at our hands. I feel shy, but he deserves more of an answer than what I gave him last night.

"I knew that if it was me who had been hurt, you would have taken care of me. Even if I told you to go to bed. You would have refused to leave me alone. When I thought about that, I felt ashamed that I had left. So, I came back to check on you and I thought about the things that help me when my back hurts, and I did them."

He doesn't say anything, but I have not looked up at him yet either. Peering up at him now, I see that he is staring at me. Did I misunderstand his feelings for me?

"Was I wrong? Maybe I was foolish and you wouldn't help me?"

"Oh, hush, lass. Don't be absurd. You know I would have. I just didn't want to make you feel worse by readily agreeing with you, but now you have managed to still make yourself feel badly."

I chuckle despite my embarrassment.

We discuss my plan for the day in this strange circumstance we find ourselves in. Clearly, George needs to stay here and rest, so we agree that as soon as I return, I will come to report what I find and make plans for the evening.

The next twenty-four hours went quickly. George recovered as well as he could and we worked together to discuss who killed Bill Laddington, as I had become convinced that his son was right, and he was murdered.

By the next afternoon though, George went with me to the neighboring vineyard to gain further intel on our unofficial investigation. By the time we were done, he had overdone it, as his back started spasming again. Hunched over, he managed to get back to the car, driving just far enough to arrive back at the castle.

I hurry around to the drivers' side door, and help him out. The man at the guardhouse today who lowered the bridge across the moat is one I have seen once or twice, but I don't know his name. He ignores us and as I know George would prefer not asking for help, I don't ask for anything. Instead, I put my arm around his waist, and George wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"Put some of your weight on me, George. You can't do this all by yourself," I say, as he is moaning now.

"We don't need you crying in pain, too, lass," is all he says, even as he is breathing heavily at this point.

We don't see anyone else as we make our way slowly to George's room. Instead of leading him to the bed, I steer us directly to the bathroom.

"I just need to lie down, Jess."

"No, you are getting immediately into the tub. I'll get the salts and help you in."

"I can manage, Jess," he says quietly, but I can feel him beginning to tremble, and with my arm wrapped around his waist, a line of muscles is spasming and I know he is miserable. I can't leave him alone right now.

I won't.

I ignore him. Instead, I motion for him to sit on the side of the tub, as I reach in to lower the plug again and turn the taps on hot. Getting everything ready for him with the towels and salts, I go back to the bed and grab his muscle relaxers and his water, returning to hand them to him. After he swallows one, I put the cup on the bathroom countertop. Turning back to him, I reach out to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He breathes in sharply and grabs my hand, stopping me, and using his other hand, he tilts my face to him.

His eyes are hooded, and the lines around them are taunt in pain, but there is also heat and desire.

"You have no idea how much I wish I felt well right now."

"I know," there is a pause, but I add, much to both of our surprise, "But I'm not sure if you did feel well that there would have been a reason for me to be here right now."

"Maybe not, but now that you are here, I hope it won't be the last time."

I whisper, "I hope not, too."

I think I shocked him, but he does not say anything further.

Taking away his hand, I realize that he is going to let me continue, and my hands begin to shake, but I finish unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it away from his body. Kneeling down, I take his shoes and socks off and set them outside the bathroom door. Helping him to stand, I unbutton his trousers and pull them to the floor.

"Um, do you want to take your boxers off?"

"Well, before I get in the water it would make sense."

My face has to be beet red now, as I reach to pull them down, but he chuckles, stilling my hands, and says, "It's okay, lass. I can manage them."

I turn to leave and he says, "You won't go far, will you?"

"Of course not. I'll sit right by the door."

Out of the corner of my eye, as I walk out, I can see him reach for the waistband of his boxers and I avert my eyes quickly.

Half an hour later, I help him walk over to the bed, and grab the lotion for another massage.

His back is tight, but seems a little less so than two days ago. Hopefully, getting in the hot bath immediately will help him rest better tonight.

It is becoming a little difficult to lean over the bed though to massage him. I know that my own back will begin to ache if I keep standing awkwardly.

"George, do you think you could move towards the middle of the bed, so I could sit on the edge?"

"Of course, Jess, why didn't you ask before?"

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"I somehow doubt that it was me you were worried about becoming uncomfortable," he says.

I am not going to reply to that, but perch on the edge of the bed. Without thinking too much, I folded down the waistband of his boxers a couple of times, exposing a few inches of his hips and glutes. He does not object and I try not to call any attention to it, even as I put more lotion on my hands, trying to get this area to release its painful hold over him.

His groans are frequent, but his back is feeling less tense, and as he is not telling me to stop, I continue, putting all my focus on helping him feel better.

I do not want to consider why I am doing this, even though I know why. There is absolutely no way in this world that I would be touching a man who was barely clothed in a bedroom, who I did not care deeply for. And it is virtually impossible now to deny that the truth is that I love him and I am in love with him.

After a long time, my hands begin to feel weak and tired and I know it is time to stop. As soon as I fix the waistband on his boxers and move the covers up overtop him, I feel the loss of his skin against my fingertips.

Was this just a convenient excuse to touch him? To experiment with how it felt to touch him? To confirm that I am in love with him?

Before I can get off the bed, George gingerly turns over, holding me in place with his strong arms.

He does not say anything for a long time, instead holding my eyes to his own.

Finally, he breaks the silence, when he says, "I'm not sure what brought out this new, brave Jess, but I hope she isn't going to hide once I'm better."

I feel bold, as I answer, "I think she will stay."

"I hope so. Jess, I need to stay in this position, but if you would like to join me for a bit, I would love to hold you."

Smiling at him, I sidle up to the side of his body, staying on top of the covers, but allowing him to wrap his arms around me, as I rest my head on his chest. He smells good, not like any scent in particular, but just clean from the bath, and his chest is warm against my face. He holds my hand that is resting on him by my face, and I watch as he traces my fingers and wrist in a mesmerizing fashion.

"George?"

"Hmm?"

Tilting my head back to look up at him, I say, "I know we are going back to the bed and breakfast after this investigation wraps up to go on our hot air balloon ride. I hope you are feeling better by then. But, even if you are, I don't think I am going to feel comfortable sharing a bedroom with you there. They are my friends and there really isn't any privacy."

"I did not know that was an option, lass."

I smile at him shyly, "I think it might be time to try. What do you think?"

"I've been in love with you, Jess, for several years already. I knew you weren't ready so I haven't pushed, but if you think you are ready now, there is nothing I would love more."

"If we just stayed one night at there, could you extend your flight another couple of days, and we could get a hotel room in San Francisco? I can find a suite with a bathtub and room service," I suggest hopefully.

George stares at me in unbelief. I smile widely.

"I love you, Jess. Yes, I can most certainly extend my stay."

I feel a warmth pool in my belly and spread out down my extremities.

He pulls me to him, kissing me deeply, moving my lips apart. Searching with his tongue, I feel him explore my mouth, as I gasp at first, trying to keep up with his advance.

I murmur against his mouth, "I love you, George," hearing him groan in reply.

"Stay here with me tonight, Jess," he says in between kisses, as he moves across my jaw line, down to below my ear and neck, sending shivers down my spine.

"I don't know," I say.

"You are safe. I can't move right now. Everyone thinks we are together here anyway."

"Hmm, true."

"I just want to hold you. In between kissing you, of course."

I chuckle, "Of course."

"Is that a yes?"

I continue chuckling, as I say, "Yes, but you will have to let me go for a minute, so I can get ready for bed." He does and I lean down to kiss him softly before leaving.

Returning to my bedroom, I change into my pajamas, choosing a royal blue silk pair with my robe, before going into the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, I consider. Part of me wishes I could keep my makeup on, as a mask to hide behind. But George knows my age and I'm not that vain. Besides, it's not good for my skin to sleep in makeup.

Scrubbing my face clean, I carefully rub in my moisturizer. Well, if he really loves me, he will have to get used to the real me.

I finish getting ready, turning the lights off in my room, and closing the door. Walking across the landing, I reenter George's room, locking the door behind me. I tried to lock it quietly, but he must have heard, because he says, "Oh, lass, are you planning on ravishing me? Because you know I am injured, aye?"

I can't help it, I laugh from deep within me. What an odd set of circumstances we are both in! Never would I have thought at the beginning of this trip that I would be sneaking back into George's bedroom, preparing to crawl in beside him. Even though we both knew with his injury, there was nothing that was going to happen.

I shook my head at him, as I turned out the light. I pulled off my robe, placing it over a chair, before getting into the bed and allowing him to wrap his arms around me again.

"Thank you for coming back," he says as he kisses the side of my head.

"I told you I would."

"I know, but I was afraid you might change your mind."

His chest is warm and bare and my cheek is pressed against it. I am bone-weary, but mentally alert. I am not sure how I will ever sleep.

George senses how I am feeling though, because he says, "Jess, just take a few deep breaths and try to let out some of the anxiety with each exhale."

I start to protest, but he interrupts, moving one hand to my abdomen, as he says again, "Breathe deeply, push my hand out," and even as I find it slightly annoying and I don't want him paying attention to my stomach, as it is hardly my best feature, I do take a deep breath. "Hold it," he whispers, and I do for several seconds when he says, "now let it out slowly…all the way."

If anyone else tried to do this with me, I would view them as being patronizing and insufferable. But George is so very caring and kind, and it does not hurt that he is attractive as well, that I think at this point, he could get me to do anything. Which I am not going to think about right now.

Yet I know he is right and breathing is helping me to relax. After doing this six or seven times, he removes his hand from my stomach and begins moving his fingers in circles along my arm and back. I snuggle into his side a little more, feeling my body give in to my fatigue.

"Goodnight, George," I whisper.

"Goodnight, my love."

Being held in George's arms as I fall asleep is exactly what I have been craving.