Marcus pulled back a respectful distance, interpreting her movements as discomfort. He offered his arm to her, handing a few coins to the footman before gesturing down a street. “Shall we?” Already drenched, he ran his free hand through his rain-soaked hair and slicked it back to keep it from plastering through his forehead, shivering ever so slightly.
Winifred took his arm with no hesitation, loving the look of his rain-soaked hair. It was so handsome on him. They walked in silence, rains become torrential and harsh by the time they made it to the manor's stone steps. Winfred leaned heavily against Marcus for any warmth his body had to offer, drenched to her stockings and shivering with blue tinted lips. She gave a sigh of relief at the warmth the greeted them when they entered the manor.
Until they’d gotten inside, Marcus had held Winnifred close to his warm body, rubbing her arm in an attempt to keep her from freezing. But by the time the door was safely shut behind them, her lips had a frightening tinge of blue and she was shivering all over. Her hair was drenched, dripping rainwater onto the polished tile floors, as was her dress. “Come, you must be freezing, let’s get you dry.”
Winifred nodded her agreement. "T-that would b-b-be best." She bit out, struggling to form words through chattering teeth. "F-for the b-b-both of us…" She pointed at him sternly. He was in a worst position than her if he got sick. She waved off the servants who came with worry and concern, asking for simple favors. "Bring more w-w-wood, p-please…" or "C-can we get s-some soup m-made?"
Marcus lead her to his room with one arm draped protectively around her shoulders, taking care to stay quiet when they entered so as not to wake Angeline. Angeline. A spike of worry went through his heart at the thought of her, but she was sleeping peacefully, so he directed Winnifred into her win room and sat her down on the bed.
Winifred sat down and waved Marcus away. "G-go! Change your c-clothes before you get- A-Achoo!" She sneezed, a high pitched and squeaky sound. She turned her face away from Marcus, waving him away. "Go change!" She demanded through the wet cloth of her dress. "That was I-i can too- too… Achooo!"
Marcus put his hands on her shoulders to calm the violent sneezing. “Do you have anything warmer than a nightgown to change into?” he asked, pulling away to grab a fluffy towel from the washroom and beginning to pat her shoulders dry.
"Yes, I do.." She sighed as Marcus began to pat her dry. The warmth was invited and desperately needed. She found herself listing towards Marcus, leaning into his arms. His presence is what she wanted more than anything and at the moment, she had completely forgotten the rules, the boundaries she had set place.
"Marcus…." She sniffled. "I implore you, Go. Change. Your clothes."
Marcus nearly jumped when Winnifred began leaning into him, turning his gently hold into an embrace. He didn’t dare to move in case he scared her away, only continued to gently wipe the rain from her skin. “You’ve come down with a cold, let me dry you first and then I’ll change.” He moved the towel to her face, dabbing at the water with one hand and holding her chin up with the other.
Winifred groaned, though she didn't object. Not for a moment. She was enraptured in the way his fingers felt on her skin and the way he scrutinized on her as he wiped the water from her face. She made herself busy by removing the pins from her hair, letting her bown locks fall in soggy cascades down her back.
Marcus’s warm fingers tingled against Winnifred’s soft skin, aching to touch her more but not daring. His eyes landed on her large brown ones, wide and lined with thick lashes. There was something on her gaze, the way she looked at him, that made his heart stop. It made him want to explore their depths, unlock their secrets. One of his fingers brushed against a lock of wet hair, and he distractedly noticed how good she looked with her hair down.
((Oooooo!!!! My heart! Oh! Happy Thanksgiving! If you celebrate it!))
Winifred shivered but it had nothing to do with the cold. The way he looked at her…. Like she was a present and he wanted to unwrapped her and enjoy the items inside. He looked deep into her like he wanted to hear her words that went unsaid, her secrets that went untold.
Her heart skipped a beat as his finger brushed her hair. And she knew as she looked down at his hand and back to those beautiful eyes, that he would be her undoing.
Maybe she was afraid of that. Or maybe she was too eager for it, that she took the towel from him, her fingers brushing against his a little longer than necessary, and set it to the side. "I'll finish in the bathroom." She stood and stepped away when she wanted nothing more than to take a step closer. To let his wrap his arms around her and dry her with his kisses. Shs shook her head and waved him away. "Go, get warm…"
(You too!!)
Marcus’s heart fell. She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t want him at all. He nodded and turned away so she wouldn’t see the crestfallen expression on his face, the hurt in his eyes. She wants nothing to do with you. Leave her alone. It was easier said than done.
He slipped back to his own room, hot shame burning on his skin. How could he be doing this, be fantasizing about his doctor, when Angeline has been ravaged by his uncle? Marcus gave his sleeping friend a long, troubled look and retreated into his bathroom with a set of dry clothes.
Winifred tried to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. But she didn't miss that heartbroken look in Marcus's eyes, even though he turned to hide it from her. And just like that, the blooming flower had closed up once more. She wanted to reach out to him. To touch him and give him a smile, or maybe even a tease, but her tongue felt like lead in her mouth and she couldn't find the right words to say until he was gone.
"Marcus Crenshaw…. You've done something beautifully horrendous to my heart…. " she whispered as she gathered a sweater-like gown and dry undergarments and went into the bathroom. She lingered there once she was dressed, not sure if what she would do and say to Marcus when he returned. She sat on the floor with a brush and ran it through her damp hair, missing and wishing for Marcus and the warmth he gave her when he embraced her….
She thought about the look in his eyes and felt her heart pick up. She knew one think was for sure. Marcus, you desire me as much as I do you…
A knock sounded on her door. It was a servant besring firewood. She exited the bathroom and let them in.
Marcus slipped into a cotton shirt and long trousers, casual and soft enough to sleep in, but he barely noticed the sensation of the fabric rubbing against his chest wound as he buttoned it up. His mind was revolving around Winnifred at this point, her hair spilling down her back and shoulders when she let it down, the gorgeous planes of her smooth face, the way her soft, warm skin felt under his fingers, those beautiful, expressive doe eyes. The term ‘windows to the soul’ had never appealed to him much before he met Winnifred, but now he could see how accurate it was.
Her carefree laugh echoed in his ears, her lilting, wonderfully musical voice, that teasing glint in her eyes. She wasn’t afraid to test him or speak her mind, wasn’t afraid of him like everyone else. Marcus knew how most saw him; in the public’s eyes he was the twisted man, the monster who’d attempted to kill his poor uncle, the insane boy who should never see the light of day again.
But not Winnifred. There was a hope, a vague spark, that she viewed him as her equal. That she genuinely enjoyed his company. And maybe one day she would gravitate towards him as much as he did to her… he’d given in at this point, had stopped trying to deny his desire for her. It was too strong at this point.
Sighing, Marcus slipped from the bathroom and back to Winnifred, not meeting her eyes.
Winifred looked to Marcus. She wanted to smile at him, but… that would be so awkward, he wasn’t even looking at her. But why? Did what she said really hurt him that much? Oh, she didn’t even mean to say it in a fashion that made him so…. upset.
She waited until the servant left, and then a moment afterwards, listening to the crackling of fire. “Marcus…. are you alright?” She knew he wasn’t but she wanted to see if he was going to lie. She patted the seat beside her and gave him her attention, her eyes on his every move.
Marcus sat down beside her, silent for a few seconds before clearing his throat. "Yeah, it's just been a long day," he responded finally, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear looking at her for long, he was afraid that she'd see right through him.
"Do you want me to call for some soup or tea?"
Winifred deflated. “Yeah, yeah….” she sighed and then sneezed. She pulled her bedsheet around her and with a deep breath and a determined face, she pulled Marcus in and wrapped her arms around him. She kept that face and held onto him tightly. She remained silentl. Gods, this is awkward….
Marcus's eyes widened in shock. Winnifred's arms snaked their way tightly around him, but that wasn't the reason he couldn't seem to breathe. His brain short-circuited, and he acted purely on instinct, slipping his arms around her middle and pulling her closer. OhmygodwhatdoIdo???
His flirtatious demeanour had vanished completely, leaving him completely uncertain and in unfamiliar territory. One of his hands, of its own accord, began playing with a lock of her still-damp hair until he forced it to stop and lie flat on her back, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it from her position against his chest. Tingles raced up and down his chest and arms, he was acutely aware of every place their bodies touched and it was driving him insane.
Winifred froze as he wrapped his arms around her and sighed into him. He felt so warm and nice against her. It was wonderful. She expected him to pull away. To shake his head and remind him of the rules she had set.
The rules….
Winifred didn't look at him as she coughed into her arm and sniffled.
"Marcus Crenshaw…. Rules be damned…. I think I like you…"
Marcus’s eyes went wide, every single smooth response flying out of his head. Could it be? No, that’s not possible… she must mean as a friend… stop getting your hopes up.
Winnifred had relaxed completely into his embrace, but now he was stiff with surprise and.. maybe a bit of hope. “Lie down a little,” he instructed softly after a long stretch of silence. “I’ll bring you your soup.”
Sighing, her arms slipped away from Marcus. She had spoken too soon, was too forward. You idiot! She yelled at herself, followed by a long stream of highly inappropriate words. She did as she was told though, wincing against the force of another wet cough. She settled in a cocoon of covers and sighed once more.
(I’ll take a look st the thread in a sec)
Marcus returned to the room with a bowl of steaming broth, pressing it gently into her hands. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how adorable she looked, all bundled up under the covers. After a second thought, he sat down on the bed next to her, took the bowl back, lifted the spoon from the soup, and brought it to her closed lips. She looked so tired, but somehow still beautiful, with her dark hair spilling over the pillows and her rosy cheeks and pink nose.
(I’ll take a look st the thread in a sec)
Marcus returned to the room with a bowl of steaming broth, pressing it gently into her hands. He couldn’t help but smile a little at how adorable she looked, all bundled up under the covers. After a second thought, he sat down on the bed next to her, took the bowl back, lifted the spoon from the soup, and brought it to her closed lips. She looked so tired, but somehow still beautiful, with her dark hair spilling over the pillows and her rosy cheeks and pink nose.
((Awwww, Marcus…)
Winifred returned his smile, for it's contagious effect, not because she knew what to smile about. She must've looked ridiculous, coughing and sneezing, ratty haired, and pale. She gave a wheeze and took the bowl. "Thanks…" she replied but a moment later, he took it back. Her eyes widened as Marcus sat down and lifted a spoon of soup to her lips.
He wants to feed me?
Utterly speechless, Winifred opened her mouth and drank from the spoon.