O, Fortuna

Chapter 28

After breakfast had finally been eaten, they made a naked hollering dash to the caretaker's house to shower and Liam finally shaved, while Grace, wrapped in a towel, sat on the washing machine, watching him slowly return to his clean-shaven self. The busier lifestyle of long hours and constant labour Liam had been leading suddenly became obvious; while he had been far from cherub-cheeked before, his jaw seemed more sharply defined and she instinctively reached out to touch his face. Liam smiled over to her at the contact but upon noting her expression, frowned, asking what was wrong.

"They are feeding you out there, aren't they?" Liam's frown deepened and he glanced at his reflection in the mirror briefly before smiling again.

"They are" he assured her, leaning down to kiss her forehead but lingered close to say "but it's not Rosa's cooking and there's no cream sponges or cannolis for afternoon tea." Grace aahed knowingly and nodded but Liam grinned "you worry way too much" he told her, kissing her again before returning his attention to cleaning himself up for the day ahead, splashing cold water on his face

Dangling her legs rather childishly, her heels thudding against the front facade of the washing machine, Grace continued her observation of Liam. The strength conveyed by his suntanned arms, the generous width of his shoulders, the pleasing natural form of his chest, none of it cultivated by hours a day in gym, just Liam working hard at any number of physical tasks around the property or with his new employers. As Liam dried his face with a towel, Grace's gaze was drawn to the scarring on his right side, the details of how he had achieved it remained a mystery to her. Though she recalled Deanna telling her that Liam had not explained the circumstances to anyone else at home either and that she ought not be so impatient in learning the details when he had already agreed to tell her this intensely personal and painful event in his life, Grace found it increasingly difficult to curb her curiosity on the matter.

Once again, Liam - towel wrapped around his hips, his hands leaning on the edge of the basin - caught her staring and Grace inhaled deeply, looking sheepishly back up to his eyes. He did not offer disapproval of any sort, instead telling her in quiet voice

"I went out on a patrol. I had no business in doing in that, not as a aircraft mechanic, but a few others I worked with had been into the town that was near the airfield, and I wanted see a bit more of the place so I suited up in fuck-knows how many kilos of kit, climbed in the back of an armoured personnel carrier with a dozen others."

Liam raised his eyebrows, shaking his head nonchalantly "Got into town no problem. Lots of kids running around there, kids tend to be much of a muchness no matter where you go, whatever they've faced" Liam smiled gently but pensively "kids run around, make the best of the situation a lot better than most adults do, I reckon" he sighed, the good humour slowly fading from his features as he went on to explain "anyway, a few hours later, the patrol started heading back to base, everything had gone well but we were diverted so the patrol could check out a report they'd received."

It was Grace's turn to take a breath, something she had avoided since Liam had begun his explanation for fear that any manner of interruption might bring him up short but given he had come to the point in his account when things were clearly going to get disturbing, she believed she needed the air. Liam blinked across to her enquiringly "I didn't take you for the squeamish sort, Grace" he said and she frowned questioningly. He nodded to her "you've gone white..you girl." She tutted and Liam smiled, moving to pick her up off the washing machine, kissing her cheek before taking her out into the hallway and into the next room, his bedroom.

It was the first time ever that Grace had come to Faridah and seen any room that conveyed any real sense of intimate connection to its occupant. Even Rosa's attic bedroom, which Grace had seen the morning she was to take the housekeeper off to her holiday and had decided to serve her breakfast in bed to, had been the epitome of careful order and the strictest privacy, her most treasured possession locked away in her wardrobe and drawers, away from casual observation.