by Marie Hall
"Io? Io?" Xavier's warm fingers pushed on her check, bringing her eyes back to his. "Ah, Io," he soothed. "We very much need to speak on matters." His fingers went to the stays of the dress she wore. "But first, you will wash, and you will eat." He had the dress pushed from her shoulders before she knew it. He stepped back, holding it out and inspecting it. "I think this might be salvaged," he said as his eyes then made a few slow passes up and down her person. She'd a moment to wonder if he was saying he didn't think the same of her, or if he was simply thankful the expense of the gown might be recouped after her demise. "I have no hope for your chemise, though," he remarked, pulling at the loose garment. "How is it this is dirtier than this?" He held up the kirtle a moment then tossed to the ground. "These stains?" He was gathering up the hem at thigh level. "Is this blood, Io?"
They might be; Io couldn't say. She'd not truly been aware of much for several days. It took everything she had to put one foot before the last and to find the will to pull away from the men. The cool rush of air startled her back to the present, and only then, did she realize Xavier stripped her of the last of her clothes and now stood inspecting the stains closer. Io lifted her right hand and placed it over her left shoulder and then she reached with her left for the second vile scar on her left thigh. She kept her eyes on Xavier, though, as he balled the under dress and threw it to the ground with some force. There was some heat in his expression when he looked at her again.
"Look at your skin, Io," he growled, though his touch was soft as a feather as they brushed over the rashes that sprang up. "Get in the water," he said, going down on his knee to untie her garters and pull down her stockings. The hiss was long as he revealed the rash on her lower leg. The constant rubbing caused the skin to chafe and bleed. The second stocking and shoe was gone and Xavier actually lifted her from the ground, under her arms, and turned her so her back was to the water. She held her breath, ready to be tossed in. But he set her down gently in only knee-deep water. "I only have a small bit of soap and I have no creams." He was speaking rather fast as he sat and pulled off his boots and then stood and pulled off his tunic and shirt. "We will find an apothecary at The Forks and get what you need there." He went past her then turned and lifted her down into the deeper waters. He left her standing in water deep enough to lift her breasts as he waded back and picked up a small package. Io watched him return, rolling a cake of soap out of the thick linen and getting both wet as he headed back toward her.
"Get wet, Io," he said and indicated she submerge herself. Io's mind went blank. And as the sound of water covered her, she panicked, coming up quicker than she intended before Xavier could take hold and keep her down. Only when she popped back up, Xavier began crowding her back toward the rocks. He kept her moving as he worked to build up a thick layer of soap on the cloth. When she was left in only waist deep water, he set the soap on a rock so as to not lose it and, taking her wrist, started rubbing the cloth, a bit rough and hard, over her skin. First her right arm was treated to his attentions and then her left, though when he worked his way up to that shoulder, she instinctively covered it with her hand.
"Stop it," he growled out, knocking her hand away and continuing to scrub at her. He took up the soap again, worked it over the cloth, set it down, and went straight back to washing her. The cloth the only thing between his hand and her flesh, he made short strokes over her collarbone, up her neck, down, over, then under her breasts, covered every bit of her stomach from side to side, then turned her to face away from him, once more adding soap before scouring her back. He left the cloth laying over her shoulder as he made quick work unbraiding her hair.
Once loose, he again added soap to the cloth and worked up the side of her neck, over her ear and then around her entire scalp. He even drew parted strands through the cloth, which he clutched in his fist—very much the way Kate washed her hair. When he had cleaned her upper body and hair to his satisfaction, he stepped back. "Rinse," he commanded, and Io obeyed, dunking under the water for a second time. She came up to find him rubbing even more soap onto the cloth. He'd run out if he continued to use it so extravagantly. "Again, you still have soap on your head. Io went back under, and this time rubbed at the top of her head before coming up. She emerged, only to find herself lifted out of the water and sat on the rocks. Xavier had hold of her knee and was working toward her ankle even as she realized how uncomfortable sitting on rocks was. "I will try and be careful, but this is quite awful, Io," he said, and the first sweep of the cloth went up her calf.
She didn't suppress the hiss as the soap burned a bit, but Xavier continued on. She might have thought him a bit fanatical the way he went about it. That he took no real notice of her body in any other way than as something needing to be purged of filth was so unfamiliar to her, she didn't know how or if she should respond. Maybe take offense. He washed both legs and thighs as well as he could with her sitting then ordered her to adjust so she was kneeling on the rocks. She had to select a smooth, flat one, but once she stopped moving, Xavier started at the task again, soaping the backs of her thighs, her arse, and that part of her which, for some reason, ached like it did any other time her husband's hands were on her.
When he was done, he tossed the rag to the rocks by the soap and lifted her down, ordered her to again rinse, then climbed out before she was even neck deep. She went under, stayed a moment trying to collect her thoughts, then came up, wiping hair and water from her face. Making her way to the bank where Xavier stood, she took his offered hand, noticing only then that he'd gotten in the water still wearing his thick riding pants. That was more, though, than she had on, and she bent to retrieve the blanket lying next to the bags.
"No, Io," he said, snatching it back and tossing it down. "That was on the ground last night. It is dirty." Lifting his shirt, he started rubbing her dry with it. "I put this one on a few days ago, but it is still mostly clean." The high quality lawn material quickly absorbed most of the water. Again, Xavier's every touch was functional, though that didn't stop her body from responding to it.
The shirt joined the fur on the ground, and Xavier bent to retrieve a fresh shirt from the saddlebags. "I was going to change in a day or so, so this one is clean. He lifted the garment over her head as he spoke and helped her get her arms through before giving the hem a tug so it settled over her in a smooth line. Because of his massive size, the shirt covered her from neck to mid-thigh and she didn't miss the smirk on his lips when he stepped back to appraise the finished effort. At least he wasn't already completely immune to her.
Io stood still as he collected up all his scattered belongings and her dress, though he left the chemise lying in a heap. When he jerked his head in the direction of the large oak, she went. What else might she have done? He dropped everything but the shirt, which he hung on a branch, then left her to collect sticks. Io gathered he intended to build a fire, so she went in search of enough rocks to contain it. The circle she made was small, but it'd do, and when Xavier knelt beside her to arrange his large collection of everything from twigs to small logs, he smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, before focusing on getting the fire started and fetching that blanket he'd not let her use to dry as well as the others that completed the pallet he slept on most nights.
She stayed, waiting on her knees as he arranged everything how it suited him then watched as he pulled a knotted napkin from his packs. Some of his food supplies, she knew. Her stomach rumbled loud enough he heard. Turning to look at her with a raised brow and a scowl, he settled with his back against the tree and his legs spread open.
"Come," he said, pointing to the spot between his thighs. When she hesitated, he said again, "Io, come here. Now." He added when she still didn't move, "It will not be how I wish to start off, but if you do not come over here, I will use one of these sticks—"
She didn't let him finish, shuffling over to him on her knees. When she was close enough, he grabbed her, rolled her over his leg and settled her in the open space, but not leaning against him
as she might have thought, hoped, even, he would. She kept her eyes forward, though, and listened to his movements. When he stopped, Io held her breath. Nothing so far was overly tender yet everything was exactly the way she'd come to expect him to be. Caring. Seeing to her needs before his own. For a man who'd declared their relationship at an end, he was going on as if the break never happened.
When his arms passed around her, she again hoped for some larger showing of affection. Rather, he worked to spread out the napkin with the foodstuff on her lap. She noted everything cut into an even number of pieces. Six bits of cheese. Ten slices of meat. Eight wedges of apple and four hunks of bread. "You will eat at least half of everything before you and more of anything else you want after that," Xavier told her. Even as she started to shake her head, he was already telling her it wasn't a request but a command.
Io gave an oath to obey commands, but she'd little understanding of what that oath meant if they'd no relationship. Protest was on her lips when she felt him gathering her hair and smoothing it out down her back.
"I am not as skilled at this as Sir Lucas, so you will bear with me," he said as the first tugs of the brush came. "Eat now, then we can speak."
"On what?" Io asked.
"On what happened, what is between us, what will be going on from here." The brush strokes were becoming bolder.
"I thought you rather clear when last we spoke," Io said, pushing around the pieces of food.
"As did I, but having taken time to think it over, I find more discussion needed."
"I do not," Io said and attempted to get up.
He held her in place, waited until she gave up, and went back to brushing her hair. "Then you will listen while I speak." He set the brush aside, and she felt her hair being separated. "Eat, Io," he said then leaned over to pick up a stick and toss it on the fire before going back to braiding her hair.
What else could she do? Lifting the apple to her lips, she took the first bite of food in more than a week, and before she was done, she'd consumed all but one hunk of bread and two bits of cheese. Xavier, at some point, set a small skin in her lap, and though she'd have drank anything, she was thrilled to find it filled with cider. Xavier said nothing the entire time, other than to mutter something before having to undo some of the work on her hair and start again.
The utter commonness of it all struck her and her stomach churned dangerously as Xavier shifted them around so they sat facing each other. Swallowing down the bile that threatened, Io waited to hear what this man planned for her now.
With a shake of his head, Xavier sat back and looked at his work. It'd been years since he'd put a braid in anything and usually, it was the tail of a horse. He realized now, he was fortunate a horse couldn't complain. But it'd do to keep her hair off her neck and back. He shook his head again. Her skin would need more than a basic cleaning. He'd thought the rash she got back when she got locked in the little room off their chambers was bad. This… he worried skin would come off as he scrubbed her. He'd need something more than soap and water to heal that. But they were less than a week from The Forks.
The area brought together every traveler from almost every direction and had a well-established marketplace. He'd be able to find something to soothe and heal Io's skin. Until then, she could stay as undressed as need be. He bit his cheek to keep the smile off his lips.
Before he could move them on, though, he needed to settle things between them. And with it looking as if Io was done eating, he needed to begin talking. Carefully, he eased his right leg around and turned to sit facing her. But she kept her profile to him, not looking, even when he tapped her arm.
"Io," he called, watched her pull away, and with a sigh, he took hold of the fur she sat on and turned it, and her, so she faced him. "Io, we need to speak."
"I do not need to hear again your decision. I heard well enough the first time," Io muttered, a great deal of bitterness in the softly spoken words.
"I did not know I made any decision on any matter last we spoke," Xavier countered. At least he found out quickly she'd taken something he'd said differently than he meant it. It was a problem for them, but less so since he'd learned to set aside his pride and the stance he was always correct. "Refresh my memory, Io, what decision did I make?"
She only shook her head, which must have loosened a tear, for he saw it fall to the furs. Setting a finger under her chin, he lifted her head and waited. "Our marriage is over," she finally whispered.
The words were startling and hurtful. But he'd clarify before he let either drive his tongue. "Our marriage is over? Is that my decision or yours?"
"Yours." She looked at him now with a good deal of confusion in her expression, "You said you cannot trust me and without trust, we cannot have a relationship."
"I said that?" He hadn't but… he set his hands behind him and leaned back that he might both see her better and give her space. "I haven't your great gift of memory, Io, but I am very sure I did not say that." She only nodded at him. "I think I will deny this," he said, pointing out he was doing so with intent rather than just so he didn't have to consider her understanding. Another problem they'd had for a long time. "Before I ask you to tell me exactly what I said, I will say, if I spoke any such madness." He saw her stiffen at those words and more tears well in her eyes. "It was said in anger and haste and certainly not intended to stand. But again, I deny having said such, because I trust you implicitly. And if I did not, I would not call for an end to our marriage." He watched tears roll down her cheeks. "Now, tell me what I said. Exactly what I said." He gave her the time she needed to pull the memory. For while she could recall word for word what she heard, read, or did, even years ago, the more emotion involved, the harder it was for her to remember.
With a slow, deep breath, "How can you even be trusted after this? We cannot go on if everything you say and do is said and done to manipulate and coerce. How can I trust you? If I cannot trust you, there is no relationship." She paused then and, catching his eye, muttered, "And you called me selfish." She dropped her eyes and head after that. "It was not my intent—"
Xavier almost laughed. This would be one of the easier matters to settle. "We will speak on your intent and its role second. And I will say without apology that you can be quite selfish at times in your actions, but that is hardly a mortal sin or fatal flaw. Certainly, no reason for anyone to want to end all association with you. But say again that first part."
She'd looked up again when he affirmed her selfishness, and he'd have to explain that more, but with a little less certainty than before, she again stated what he'd said, "How can you even be trusted after this? We cannot go on if everything you say and do is said and done to manipulate and coerce. How can I trust you? If I cannot trust you, there is no relationship."
"Again," Xavier ordered, hoping this time she'd catch it on her own. She didn't, so he commanded her again to repeat it.
"How can you even be trusted after this?" He held up his hand, stopping her, and asked again for her to repeat the sentence.
"How can—" He raised his hand, again stopping her.
"Is that a firm decision, Io? Or a question?" He watched her mouth open, then close, then open again before she gave up and shook her head at him. "How can you be trusted? Sounds like a question to me. And a question I already know the answer to." He saw her lift her hand and wipe at the tears. "Say the rest again."
"We cannot go on if everything you say and do is said and done to manipulate and coerce. How can I trust you? If I cannot trust you, there is no relationship," she said with a much less impassioned tone and a slight bit more of that confidence she always carried starting to emerge.
"I think that is true enough. We cannot go on if," he took great pains to emphases that word. "If you did nothing but manipulate me. And, no, I will not be in a relationship with anyone I cannot trust." The confidence slipped, so he pushed ahead quickly. "But that is a rather significant if, do you not think so?"
"It was not my intent,"
Io told him again.
"In a moment, Io, we will get to that. But answer me. Do you find that a decision? One so great as to find us here now, with you so wrecked as to be half dead? Or did you simply, out of some habit from your past, take my question, twist it to fit how you understand most things, and make more of it than you should have?" He perhaps was putting more of the blame on her than he should, but he needed her to be more responsible for her own responses. "I spoke in anger and in fear, and I gave you no chance at redress. But for someone who should have been able to go over and over what was said, exactly as it was said, all on your own, you did not. Rather, I think you heard my words and removed much of what was said until it matched what you have heard all your life from everyone else. That you were not wanted, that you create a burden… that… I do not even know, for those thoughts are so difficult for me to find, I cannot contemplate how someone else could."
Her hands went up to cover her mouth then, and he saw her shoulders shake.
"I asked how you can be trusted. Io, you can be trusted because you are not stupid. You learn from every mistake and you improve. That is how you can be trusted. As for do I think you will try again to manipulate me? I will guess, at some point, as life is a set of measured manipulations, some big, some small, some for good, some not. You are, though, most direct in all matters, and so I have little fear you will suddenly become someone who says one thing but means something entirely different." He reached out and pulled away one hand form her mouth. She only tried harder to remain silent with the one she had left. "I trust you, Io."
"You did not sound as if you did?" she said with a sniff.
"I was angry, and perhaps some trust was missing. Not my trust in you, but in myself."