Page 6 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)

In Which Our Unmarried Couple Attempts to Appear Married

There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Mrs Smithers truly did have a heart of gold.

Certainly, she had it charmingly concealed within an abundance of femininity, and he easily believed that she could have carried him into the house single-handed, but her sweet affection for Willow was evident, as was her joy in seeing him well on his way to recovery.

“You must let me see your ankle, Mr Chalmers. I insist now, no evasion. ’Twas a serious sprain and I will not rest easy until I reassure myself that it is truly on the mend.”

Since she was advancing on him with all the energetic enthusiasm of a team of healthy cart horses, he decided it was wisest to obey before she ran him over.

“Right then, let’s see that foot.”

“I do believe it is doing very well, Mrs Smithers,” said Willow with a smile. “Your poultices have reduced the swelling to almost nothing, and even the bruising is fading.”

“Hmm.”

Harry sat and extended his leg, glad that he wasn’t wearing boots, but loose slippers that Willow had found for him somewhere.

She watched the two of them. “I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea.”

“That would be lovely, dear,” replied Mrs Smithers, as she gently raised Harry’s foot and placed it on her knee.

To his surprise, she was quite thorough in her examination, bending his toes a little, moving it this way and that, and noting the moments when he managed to restrain a slight gasp of pain.

Finally, after several minutes of sensations that varied from pleasant to a bit uncomfortable, she put his foot back into his slipper and down to the floor.

“Well, that’s good then,” she said, relaxing with a satisfied smile.

Willow returned with the teapot and produced cups. “He is healing, isn’t he?”

“Yes, indeed. And more quickly than I’d expected, to be honest with you, dear.”

“It must be the magic of your tender attentions, Mrs Smithers,” Harry gave her his most charming smile.

“And the loving hands of your wife, too, young man.” She glanced pointedly at Willow. “You are fortunate indeed to have been in the care of this sweet girl. I’d never have expected one such as she to reveal such a strong desire to nurse anyone the way she did.”

“Now, really, you know all I had to do was follow your instructions…”

He was amused to see Willow’s cheeks colour at the compliments.

“I’m sure being told what to do helped. But doing it, well, that was another matter.” Mrs Smithers turned to Harry. “Your wife bore the burden of ensuring your fever didn’t take a serious toll, lad. I’m not certain we’d be here now were it not for her care, day and night, through all those hours when you tossed and turned and shivered, or roasted…yes, you were in a sorry state indeed.”

“I am well aware that I am blessed with this woman, Ma’am. You need have no doubt on that score.” He beckoned to Willow. “I could not be happier to know that I was in such good hands, but I’m also saddened that I had to put her through such an experience.”

Mrs Smithers nodded and smiled as Willow tentatively accepted Harry’s hand and stood at his side.

“I have to suppose you were on the continent then,” she sighed. “Them nasty fevers seem to be even nastier when they’re brought over the channel.”

“Indeed, Ma’am, you’re quite right. There are more than a few folks suffering from a variety of ailments this winter. A sad thing.”

“Damned war,” she muttered. “Too many lads won’t be coming home before it’s over, mark my words.”

Harry felt Willow’s hand squeeze his and glanced up at her. “I have to admit I’m very relieved that he’s back with me,” she said quietly.

He watched her face, wondering at the emotions he could see in her eyes. “You couldn’t be any happier than I, my dearest.”

Mrs Smithers laughed. “Oh, there now, lad. You’ve made your wife blush.” She stood and straightened her skirts. “You two have not been married long, I’ll wager?”

“Er…”

“A mere few months,” Harry said, smoothly. “And I’m looking forward to many years of happiness.”

“Your tea…” Willow motioned at the table. “Come and have it before it gets cold.”

“Of course, dear. You’re such a kind girl.” Mrs Smithers settled her ample self on one of the chairs that Harry could have sworn let out a slight groan.

“Now that we’re all sitting up and comfortable, perhaps you could tell me how you two met? I haven’t wanted to press your lovely wife about such matters with you so sick, Mr Chalmers.”

“How kind you are,” he smiled. “When did we meet?” He glanced at Willow, noting the slight look of panic that crossed her face. “Oh goodness…years ago, wasn’t it? And quite naturally, as a matter of fact. Her parents’ estate and mine border each other.”

Harry sipped tea. And it was, indeed, damned good tea. “So you could say that our families were familiar with each other for many years before we arrived. Of course, not all of us were around at the same time, and as you probably can guess, the lads spent more time with each other, that with their sisters…”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she laughed.

Willow nodded, a nervous smile on her lips, but apparently content to let her “husband” weave the story of their meeting.

“So our lives intersected more often than might otherwise have been expected, and that gave me the chance to watch Willow grow and bloom into the wonderful woman she is today.”

“Um…Harry? I think you might still have a touch of fever…” Willow was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Ahh, newlyweds. And escaping the family for a nice long holiday together down here on the coast, I would guess. Madame Lépine would have been so happy to have hosted the two of you, although I’ll admit I think this house is a bit snug for a honeymoon.” Mrs Smithers shook her head and finished her tea. “Of course, close quarters aren’t a problem, are they?”

Harry chuckled. “Indeed not, Ma’am.”

Willow blushed. Again.

“Well, I must be off and leave you two sweet things to enjoy your married life.” She stood. “Thank you for the tea, my dear. And ’tis fine to see you up and about, lad.” She paused at the doorway. “Now that you’re mending, I have to guess you’ll both be on your way soon?”

“I…” Harry paused, glancing at Willow.

She nodded. “We will, Mrs Smithers. Our families will grow anxious should we delay here for too long. And as you say, my…my husband’s ankle is improving daily. I’ll be sending a message home, and they’ll have a travelling carriage on its way to us as soon as they can, so we can make the journey without any difficulties.”

“As it should be,” she replied approvingly. “Remember, I’m next door if you need anything, and you’d best pop in and say goodbye before you leave…”

“We wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” smiled Harry. “And thank you again for all your kindnesses, both to me and to my wife.”

Once more, he kissed her hand, making her chuckle. “Oh give over, lad. Save your kisses for the one who needs ‘em.” She tipped her head at Willow. “Enjoy your day.”

“We will,” Harry slipped an arm around Willow’s waist as they stood at the door watching Mrs Smithers make her way down the slippery cobblestones.

“She’s going to turn and look at us, you know,” he whispered.

Willow jumped a little as his breath dusted her ear. “I know. She always gives a little wave before going indoors.”

“Well then…” He pulled her close. “We’re newlyweds. Best we act like it.”

“I…”

He stopped her words with his mouth, kissing her tenderly, then more thoroughly, pulling her fully into his arms, and thrilled to find hers lifting to his shoulders and around his neck.

He didn’t know if she’d ever been kissed or not, but he hoped he might be the first. Hesitantly, she opened her parted her lips to him, murmuring low in her throat as his tongue plunged past her lips, tasting her, teasing her.

And before he knew it, Harry Chalmers was doing his very best to wrap himself around her, his arms banding her to his chest while her hands grasped his hair at the back of his head.

God, she tasted like nothing he’d ever imagined, and he couldn’t get enough. Apparently, he wasn’t alone in his delight, since Willow remained pressed against him, leaning into his embrace, sighing into his mouth with pleasure.

But the cold air crept around both of them, and in a few moments they eased apart, aware that they were in a doorway, clearly visible to the rest of the world, including Mrs Smithers. She must have given up waiting for the kiss to end, since she’d vanished from sight, but there might have been others passing, and Harry wasn’t keen on making too much of a stir in Little Witham.

He pushed the door closed as Willow eased herself away from him and cleared her throat.

“Well, that must surely have convinced her, and any passers-by, of our marital status,” she said calmly, walking back into the house. “Now, I think it’s time we started to talk about how to get ourselves home, don’t you?”

Harry, who was still waiting for his body to stop reacting to the most deliciously sensual kiss he’d ever experienced, just stared at her for a few moments, trying vainly to gather his scattered thoughts.

“Er, yes.”

A poor reply, but the best he could manage at that moment.

*~~*~~*

How Willow kept her knees from buckling, she had no idea at all.

She wanted nothing more than to sink into the little couch and curl up quietly while she examined the myriad of sensations that were rattling her bones, her muscles and her brain.

But somehow, she retained her countenance and forced herself to begin clearing away the remains of their breakfast and all the dishes and teacups that went with it.

“Let me help.” Harry walked to the table.

“No, no. I can manage. You must rest.” She managed to look at him without blushing, which was quite a feat, since she had to force her gaze not to linger on the lips that had so recently claimed hers. “We should make our plans for leaving, and you are yet to be fully comfortable on that ankle. So best not to risk setting your recovery back by being silly.”

“Willow,” he began.

“Shush.” She stacked saucers noisily. “There are decisions to be made. We need our heads to be clear.”

And with that determined statement, she walked steadily from the room into the little kitchen, praying that her hands were capable of carrying the dishes without dropping them.

God…what had she done?

Filling a pot with water, she put it on the tiny stove, and waited for it to heat. But this was a casual, everyday chore that required little attention. A good thing, since she had yet to re-surface from the unbelievable pleasures of kissing Harry Chalmers.

“The water’s hot…”

His voice sounded behind her, making her jump and juggle a teacup. “Good heavens, don’t creep up on me like that, Harry,” she scolded. “Make yourself useful if you must, and pour the hot water into the bowl for me?”

He did as he was told, ensuring that the hot and the cold blended thoroughly. “There. Now where’s your soap?”

“No.” She put her hands on her hips and faced him. Heavens above, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and demand more kisses, more…something…

“No what?” He raised his chin and stared at her.

“Um…no, you’re not doing the dishes. Didn’t we just agree you should rest your ankle?”

“You agreed that, not I.”

She sighed. “All right. Here.” She showed him cloths and the little piece of soap. “I’ll dry them then.”

They worked in silence for a few moments, the splash of the water in the bowl and the clink of china the only sounds.

“We should talk, Willow.”

“Indeed we should. I have many questions about this entire matter. Madame Lépine, your business with her, why here in Little Witham? And most of all, what are you, Harry?”

He finished the last cup, carefully placed it on the board next to the bowl, and then turned to her.

“Right now, I’m confused.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I’m confused, Willow. Confused by you.”

“By me?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why on earth would I confuse you? I’m just me.”

He grinned. “I know you are. But you’re no longer the Willow Trease who would sneak out of the house at dawn with your sister to pick mushrooms. Nor are you the girl who thought nobody noticed when you curled up small in big chair and listened to conversations without making a sound.”

“I…”

“What you are now is a woman. A woman grown.” She saw his throat move as he swallowed. “And a woman I find very attractive. Not to mention the fact that you are also the woman who has probably saved my life.”

She gathered her wits. “That is a somewhat dramatic statement. A sprained ankle is not anything that might have posed a serious threat…”

“No, it’s not. But you took me in and nursed me through not only a bad ankle, but apparently a very rough fever. You let me stay, you made no fuss, nor attracted any attention. And for that, I am eternally grateful. Had you not behaved thus? I might not be alive today.”

A chill washed through her as she stared into his eyes. He was telling the truth—she could feel it in her bones.

“For God’s sake, Harry, who, or should I say what, are you?”

He took a breath. “I’m a courier.”