Burn - Edmund Bridgerton II's story

Chapter 13 - Fleeting Moments

Aubrey Hall, May 1839

"Geoffreeey! Geoooff! Where the hell are you?" Miles hooted in an increasingly worried tone while he was looking for his friend, who had disappeared into the woods in the middle of the pall-mall game.

"I am here...!" Geoffrey's timid voice could be heard from down below a small cliff.

"Why are you sitting down there?" Miles wondered, standing on top of the same rock.

"Well, I am not simply sitting here for the fun of it and admiring the view, I think that my leg is broken..." Geoffrey complained, tried to move his right leg and grimaced in pain.

"Hold on, do not move." Miles commanded and slid down the cliff with what Geoffrey thought was an irritating smoothness and grace, compared to himself at least. He hunkered down next to his friend's suspected broken leg and carefully picked it up in his hands. Geoffrey yelped out of agony and Miles quickly put his leg back down again. "It is definitely broken. I have seen a good amount of broken limbs growing up with this many siblings and cousins." Miles declared, like a trained doctor.

"Could you go and get some help...?" Geoffrey tried to ask in a courageous tone, but it came out more like a whimper. Miles patted his shoulder with an encouraging smile.

"Everything is alright, I got this. I can carry you up this small hill and then you can lean on me and hop on one leg through the gardens." He said and was already about to grab a hold of Geoffrey.

"What...?! No...!" Geoffrey exclaimed in horror. He would anytime choose the physical pain over the even more agonising prospect of being carried around in Miles Bridgerton's strong arms.

"Trust me, I will not drop you. You are not as heavy as you think." He smirked and Geoffrey gave out a sigh of surrender. What was he supposed to say, 'Do not touch me Miles, I am in love with you'? Also, he was a bit worried, because even if he might have not been some heavy heap of neither muscles nor fat, Miles was only a couple of inches taller than him and not the most devoted athlete. Still, Geoffrey was also very aware of how good a shape Miles actually was in every time he rolled up his sleeves, probably from tossing around heavy hay bales to his horses, or whatever he did out here all summer.

"Fine..." Geoffrey finally exhaled, so Miles wrapped one arm around his chest and the other underneath his knees, while trying to steady the broken leg with his elbow.

"Put your arms around my neck, that will make this a bit easier." Miles huffed, as he struggled to get up on his legs. No, it will make this a lot worse, Geoffrey thought to himself, but did as he was told. "How did this even happen?" Miles laughed when he at last slowly trudged up the hill.

"I..." Geoffrey began with a little gasp. His heart was racing faster than any of the Bridgerton thoroughbreds, while he tried to think about anything else than the fact that he was literally in Miles' arms. "I was looking for my ball and did not see the cliff, so... I fell, or... More like slid down and my leg got bent up underneath me..." He muttered, looking away from Miles' much too nearby face.

"How could you not see the cliff?" Miles chuckled, but as usual, when directed at Geoffrey, it was not a mean one but more a warm chuckle. "Oh Geoff, you are without a doubt the least outdoorsy person in all of England." He smirked and Geoffrey made the mistake of looking up into his blue-green eyes and kept looking for a bit too long, before turning his head away and clearing his throat.

"Yes, well... That is why I want to become an architect. I want to fill the world with buildings, until there are no forests left where people can break their legs." He stated, making Miles burst into laughter and almost stumble over a root of a tree. Geoffrey immediately tensed up and wrapped his arms tighter around his gallant rescuer's neck.