Page 37 of Savage Blooms
In reply, Finley leaned down to kiss her goodbye, but Nicola caught the way his fingers threaded in her hair and tightened, just enough to sting pleasantly. The same way he had threaded his fingers through Nicola’s hair just the day before.
Nicola squeezed her thighs together under the table and forced a smile as he left, giving a little wave for good measure.
“He’s sort of gloomy, isn’t he?” Adam asked when Finley had gone, not in an unfriendly way. “Just like, in general?”
“I don’t mind,” Eileen said with a chuckle. “Girls like that sort of thing. Isn’t that right, Nicola?”
Nicola felt herself blush ferociously, and Eileen laughed brightly while Adam smirked at her, and for one shimmering moment, she felt loved so she could hardly stand it.
That night, as she lay in bed listening to the housecreak in the wind, she tried to memorize the feeling of soft down pillows beneath her head, her belly full of warm soup, the security of Adam sleeping just around the corner. There would be no telling when she felt this safe again, or this at home. She had learned to enjoy these little stolen moments whenever she could.
The next day, Nicola woke to the sound of a gunshot.
She scrambled out of bed to peer outside the windows, wondering if a hunter had wandered too close to the manor.
Instead she saw Eileen, dressed in riding boots and a linen blouse, pointing a long rifle into the sky.
Nicola tugged on her shoes and zipped her pink puffer over her nightdress, then hurried down the stairs and out the kitchen door, propelled by curiosity and no small amount of concern. As she rounded the house, she saw that Eileen stood next to a rusty mechanical contraption.
Eileen pulled a lever, and the machine hurled a spinning object high into the sky.
“Pull!” she shouted, as though there were anyone out here who might be hit.
The lord followed the arc of the object with the barrel of her rifle, the gun held high against her cheek and braced against her shoulder, and then fired with devastating accuracy.
The object shattered in midair.
Nicola wandered over, zipping her puffer up higher. Eileen caught sight of her and gave a victorious smile.
“Morning dovey!”
“Hi,” Nicola said, resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears as Eileen swung the gun through the air and successfully broke another clay pigeon. There was something a little scary and a little thrilling about standing this close to the action. It was very similar to how she felt whenever she was in close quarters with Eileen, actually. “You’re in high spirits.”
“Nothing like bracing spring air to do the body good,” Eileen said, lowering her gun and turning to face Nicola. Her eyes were bright, feverishly so, and there was an exerted bloom in her pale cheeks.
“Were you sick?” Nicola asked delicately. She couldn’t help being curious.
“I’m always sick. That’s the definition of chronic illness.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s just a fact of life, nothing for you or anyone else to be sorry for.” Eileen squinted at Nicola, as though she were a target Eileen was sighting, and then she sighed, resigning herself to the truth. “I have chronic fatigue syndrome, endometriosis, asthma, and migraines besides. I am a veritable cocktail of ailments, and have been since adolescence. Some days are good, others aren’t.”
“Is today a good day?” Nicola asked.
Eileen grinned with all her teeth.
“Yes, thank Christ. I don’t think I could take another afternoon caged up in my room. You and Adam caughtme at a good time; I was bedridden the week before you arrived.” Eileen proffered her gun to Nicola with one hand. “Do you want a turn?”
“I’ve never even seen a gun up close,” Nicola said, shaking her head quickly. “I’m good.”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Eileen said. “I’ll show you. Stand here, in front of me. Feet shoulder width apart.”
Nicola considered begging off with some excuse about having shaky hands, or being a pacifist, but Eileen’s confidence was infectious. Besides, there was something appealing about holding a real gun, about the sensuality of the gunpowder smell in the air.
She stepped forward in the dewy grass and let Eileen place the rifle into her hands. It was surprisingly heavy and warm from Eileen’s touch.
“The safety’s on, so you don’t have to worry about shooting anyone in the foot,” Eileen said, adjusting the rifle in Nicola’s grip. She was quick and efficient, correcting Nicola’s posture as she went. “The trick is to not be afraid of the gun. There will be some kickback when you fire, but not enough to knock you on your arse.”
