An Unpracticed Heart

Chapter Thirteen

Hartley attempted to move, then immediately wished he hadn't. He managed to roll onto his side, every muscle protesting the slight change in position. He had worked all day yesterday, and the day before that. He'd not allowed himself to stop and rest, as if the sweat that had poured from him were cleansing the poison of his past mistakes from his limbs. But now everything hurt. It hurt to move, to breathe, possibly even to blink. He shifted again, managing to extract one leg from beneath his bedcovers as he sought out the floor with his foot.

His head still pained him, as it had since he'd arrived at Ellesferth and the last sip of alcohol had passed his lips. But the ache was more of a forgotten thing, like the last shreds of a dream slipping away after waking. He grabbed the edge of the mattress as he pulled himself into a sitting position, his shoulders rolling forward as if he could curl himself inward and away from the pain.

Christ, he didn't know when he'd last felt this way. Even after a fight, the injuries were more localized, easier to work around. But this encompassed everything. If this was how things were going to be now that he'd given up drinking, he wasn't certain he would survive it.

He glanced at the windows, one eye closed against the headache. The light was pale, though whether because it was still early or because it was Scotland, he hadn't the faintest idea. But the fire had been banked during the night, and Jenson, it seemed, had already taken the liberty of setting out clean clothes for him for the day. If he could live through another day, he thought, and tipped himself forward until he had no choice but to stand up or dive face-first into the rug.

Like a doddering old man, he shuffled around the end of the bed. When he could trust his arms to comply with the orders from his head, he reached down for the hem of his shirt and dragged it up and over his head. The chill in the room struck his body then, and he shivered as he poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain basin on his dressing table. He considered calling for a bath to soak the tension out of him, to loosen up his joints so that he could walk properly again. But thoughts of a hot bath brought up thoughts of Charlotte—No, Miss Claridge, he reminded himself. Best to keep up what formalities he could, for everyone's sake.

He grit his teeth as he splashed the water over his face and neck. Despite the cold of it, he picked up the soap and a linen washcloth and worked up a lather to tackle the other parts of his body that simple water wouldn't cleanse. He was making a mess on the floor, but he didn't care. Miss Claridge could scold him for it later, her mouth set in that grim line she affected so well, her small figure set against his like a modern-day David facing a particularly pathetic and aching Goliath.

It dawned on him then that he hadn't seen her for the whole of the previous day. She'd been taking care to avoid him, he knew, just as he'd avoided seeking her out. Instead he'd forced himself outside and into the weather, always an axe or a hammer or a saw in his hand to better exhaust himself before he could give in to the urge to stalk through Ellesferth's corridors until he found her.

After scrubbing and rinsing as best he could, he snatched a cloth from the stack beside the basin and dried himself until his skin turned a rosy shade of pink. As he rubbed the towel through his damp hair, someone knocked on his door. He paused, aware that he stood there without a stitch of clothing on his person, barring the flimsy towel in his hands, and that Miss Claridge could very well be standing out there in the corridor.

If he were set on destroying himself and Miss Claridge in a single shot, he could invite her inside, allow them to continue on from where they'd left off when he'd woken to find her in his bed. She wasn't the type to balk at the sight of a naked man. Hell, she'd already seen him undressed at least once before. And if she were to step into his room... if she were to close the door behind her...