Page 40 of Light and Shadow
“I’m bruised and cut. I’m damaged inside and out. How can you say I’m beautiful?” She clings to my neck and winces as the water touches various scrapes and cuts.
The sand under my feet is soft. I let her legs float down.
She stands, looking up at me with watery eyes of moss green. Those are eyes I could get lost in for a thousand years. “You will heal,mo chroi.” I put my hands on her cheeks and cup her head with my fingers. Closing my eyes, I pull my magic forth.
She grips my hands and pulls them away. “You can’t heal everything with magic, Aaran. What is broken in me cannot be wished away.”
Opening my eyes, I see her strength, and it’s beyond anything I have ever known. “You are very special. Most would have died in that castle. Most would have broken under the strain of torture. If you won’t let me take these memories from you, will you at least let me admire you?”
A small, familiar smile pulls at her lips. “If you have soap in that bag of yours, you can do anything you want with me.” She winks.
My heart expands at that hint of Harper’s humor shining through. Other parts also expand, but those ideas will have to wait. “If you’re not put off by magic, I can conjure a bar of soap.”
She cocks her head, and it’s adorable. Her hair floats in the water like lace. The swell of her breasts breaches the surface.She may not feel it at the moment, but she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She looks around. “From what?”
Stepping back, I cup the water in my hands and call my magic to transform. Light surrounds my fingers and swallows up my wrists.
Harper gasps but doesn’t move away. “Amazing.”
A moment later, I hand her a round pat of soap.
She rolls it between her hands, and when she has a lather, she washes her face. Bubbles float across the lake. Once the dirt is gone, a dark bruise stands out along her jaw, and the underside of her eyes are shaded as well. Reaching up to wash her hair, she winces, unable to lift her arms above her shoulders.
Taking the pat from her, I ask, “May I?” Once she nods, I circle behind her and lather her tangled strands. I massage her skull gently.
“That feels so good.” Her voice is barely a whisper.
This is more intimate than I planned. Once every strand is washed, I hand her the soap. “Lean back and float if you can.”
When she does, the rosy peaks of her breasts make my mouth water. I must look away and concentrate on running my fingers through her hair. I scoop water to pour carefully around her face. “I think it will be difficult to get some of these knots out.”
“Maybe I can borrow a brush from someone.” Her voice shakes, maybe from exhaustion or fear. She runs the soap along one arm and then the other before lathering her chest and abdomen. When she reaches between her legs, I have to close my eyes. My body yearns for this woman.
Braving a look, I’m relieved when suds hide her womanly parts. “Do you want me to wash your legs and back?”
Her throat bobs as she hands me the soap.
I keep my focus on the job, and not the softness of her skin, or the way she quivers as my fingers slip along the inside of her thighs. I wash her feet before helping her stand. When her backis clean, I clear my throat and step away to take my own brief bath.
“I feel better. Thank you.” She takes a few tentative steps toward the shore.
Scooping her up, I carry her to the grassy beach. Calling on wind magic, I dry us both.
When I put her on the ground, she covers herself. Even in the moonlight, her bruises stand out against her fair skin.
Gathering the clothes I brought for her, I hand them over. “I wish I had the opportunity to kill Venora just for what she did to you.” I dress and dig into the bottom of my pack for the leather shoes Selina insisted I take in case they were needed.
She pulls on her jeans and the t-shirt with a funny black mouse on the front. “I think if it was easy to kill her, she couldn’t have done all she has in the last thirty years.”
“You’re right. I still would do anything to take this pain from you.” I hand her the footwear. “Selina said you might need these.”
With a wan smile, she puts them on. “Only a little big, but far better than nothing.”
I rinse off her tattered dress and tear off a few pieces. “When these dry, we can stuff the toes. That should help.”
Standing, she holds out her hand. “I’d like to try to walk back. Maybe if I can make it, the sick will try a little harder to recover.” She shakes her head. “That’s probably stupid.”
Lacing our fingers together, I say, “It’s brilliant, Harper. You mean more to those people than you can ever imagine. They need something to believe in and right now, that’s you.”
