Page 17 of Potions and Proposals
“I can’t give you fireflies, but I hope you’ll accept the stars,” Benedict said, opening the grate to the rooftop pool area. The loungers would be a little damp from the rain. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.
“This is everything! How’ve I never been up here?” She hurried out, dragging him behind her. It took all his will not to smile at how easily pleased she was, all thought of the creepy elevator gone in an instant as he carefully directed her around the pool. It was covered, but that could be even more dangerous, and he didn’t fancy going in after her.
Thankfully, she didn’t notice the water. She let go of his hand and hurried to the edge of the roof. With the old battlements, there was no worry of her going over.
“Your desire to stay as far away from me as possible probably had something to do with it,” he said, nervously watching her leaning over the wall. His jacket rose higher on her pale thighs and he diverted his gaze, only to see how dirty her feet were. All thoughts of her bare skin disappeared, replaced with the worry that she might have cut herself during the run in the woods.
From behind the closed bar beside the sun loungers, he filled a jug with warm water and carried it over to a sun lounger. While she was distracted by the stars and the views of the woods, he grabbed some towels and the first aid kit for her feet. He didn’t want the binding to fall through because she died of sepsis. If one of them had to leave Foxford, he didn’t want it to be in a coffin.
“Such a pity that Matherson Manor comes with Mathersons.” Lucinda covered a shallow yawn before plonking herself down on the lounger beside the towels.
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” Benedict covered her legs with a towel, trying to keep her warm, as she kept her gaze tipped towards the stars. So far from the city and high above their village, there was nothing to hinder the starlight.Her mood seemed to have mellowed out, so he could relax about her trying to run off.
Suddenly, she reclaimed his hand and brought it to her chest. “We aren’t fighting,” she mused, tracing her fingers over the exposed part of his ivy tattoo that travelled from his hand and over his shoulders. It was the same ivy that coated the walls of the manor he’d known all his life.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure normal service will resume once you’ve sobered up,” he said, pouring warm water on a clean towel.
“How exhausting,” she groaned, collapsing back on the lounger. He knelt by her feet, and she sat up on her elbows, frowning. “Are you proposing?” She laughed.
“No, I need to clean the muck off your feet to make sure you haven’t cut yourself,” he explained, trying to keep her legs still as he balanced them on his lap.
“Pity.”
He stared at her.
“It would’ve been nice to be proposed to properly, now I’m stuck with you.”
The sadness in her voice tightened his heart. She was right. They’d both missed out on a special moment because of the coven’s proposal. She probably wanted to be proposed to with some grand gesture by someone she loved and who loved her in return. He’d never really given it much thought; he’d hoped one day he would have someone who’d accept him and his family name without shame. Someone who would be proud to stand by his side.
“I’m flattered by your sacrifice,” he said, trying not to sound irritated. She was high; he couldn’t hold her accountable for what she said under the influence of Luisa’s tea.
“You should be, but we’re in the same boat – you’re stuck with me,” she chuckled. “It could be worse, though.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “We know each other. What if we’d been bound to strangers?” How like a Hawthorne to find the silver lining in her punishment. “I know everything about you.”
She yawned and stopped squirming for a second while he cleaned her foot. By some miracle he found no cuts or abrasions.
“That tickles.” Lucinda wriggled her toes. He moved to the other foot before she could take it away.
“You don’t know everything,” he said, trying to distract her.
“You love pumpkins, hate snakes, love lizards.” She counted the facts on her fingers. “You’re terrible at geography and can’t swim, which is crazy, since you’ve got a freaking pool.”
He wanted to explain that fire and water didn’t mix, but he didn’t want to ruin the longest conversation they’d ever had without arguing.
“You’ve got a birthmark on your calf that kind of looks like a skull. You’re afraid of needles and cried when we got our injections at school for werewolf flu, which makes no sense, since you have tattoos.”
“Okay, I get the picture, you know me.” Benedict held up his hands defensively before she got to anything embarrassing. Then he glanced at his birthmark. He’d never considered that it looked like a skull, but now that she’d said it, he couldn’t unsee it. He wondered what else she had noticed about him.
“You probably don’t know half as much about me,” she said, reaching for the sky.
“Just focus on the stars,” he said, carefully checking her second foot.
“Far better than fireflies,” she mused.
“The stars appear brightest here because this is the highest point in Foxford, except for the bell tower in the town hall,” he explained. Incredibly, it seemed both her feet were uninjured in spite of the evening’s escapades.
