Page 10 of Whiskey & Witches

“Couch or bed?”

“Bed, please.”

After he’d laid her on the mattress, he rifled through the top drawer of her dresser for the liniment she usually created by the liter. Finding it, he opened the lid, took a whiff, and grimaced. “It still smells like shite. You’d think you’d have found a better fragrance for the bleedin’ stuff.”

She grinned as she held out her hand. “Lucky for you, you’re not the one who’ll be wearing it.”

“And I’ll be thanking the Goddess for that.” He rolled his eyes skyward to emphasize his comment. “Can you remove your clothes and turn over, or do you need help?”

“Carrick, you don’t—”

“Jaysus! Can you not stop arguing with me for five minutes, woman?” Carrick set the pot of ointment on the bedside table and gently sat her up. When he began unbuttoning her top, she smacked his hands and growled. He fought a smile and averted his eyes until he heard her clothing drop to the floor.

She attempted to shift, but her sharp hiss gave her away along with her difficulty.

Careful not to move her too fast, he eased her legs straight and her back flat. Then, he rolled her onto her stomach with another glance skyward. This time he added a few silent curses that he couldn’t take advantage of his wife’s naked state.

He scooped up a euro-sized amount of the goop and warmed it between his hands. Her flesh quivered in direct relation to the cold air, or perhaps his nearness, and goosebumps formed from the base of her neck to her ankles. Scars marred the previously unblemished body all down her right side. It was the first time he’d seen some of the accident’s reminders carved into her delicate skin, and it made him ill to think of the pain she’d gone through—was continuing to go through.

“Cold?”

“A little,” she admitted.

He pinched the sheet between his index finger and thumb and drew it up to cover her legs, in addition to the bottom half of her bum. Regret struck at being forced to cover her loveliness.

Carrick skimmed his palms over her back. After a liberal application of the greasy mixture, he used his thumbs to work the kinks from her muscles, and her soft moan of pleasure caused him to smile.

“You can thank me for insisting,” he teased.

“Your head will swell.”

“My head is already swelling, but probably not the one you’re thinkin’.”

She snorted a laugh. “Then it’s a good thing for me you’ll not take advantage.”

“Good for you, bad for me.”

Roisin tried to hide her smile in her forearms, but he caught the fleeting grin.

“Thank you for insisting, Carrick,” she murmured a few minutes later. Her voice was sleepy and, for once, without an edge of bitterness.

He missed this side of her. “My pleasure, love.”

“Am I?”

Her whispered question held a ton of angst, and it cut him to the quick that she had any doubt.

“Always, Ro.” He kissed the crown of her head.“Always.”

* * *

Later that evening,as Roisin was heating up leftovers from lunch, a wave of loneliness struck. Carrick had been lovely earlier, and his massage had worked wonders for the tight, painful muscles of her back. She’d forgotten to ask why he’d come by, but if it was important, she’d find out in due time.

At some point after she’d fallen asleep, he’d left her, but not without writing her a note and propping it up beside a single rose in a drinking glass. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read it yet, knowing the sharp, bittersweet blade would impale her heart and make her cry. His sweet gestures always triggered strong reactions in her.

A short while later, as she stared at her meager dinner, trying to work up an appetite, her eyes drifted back to the folded paper. Giving in, she opened it, already knowing what it contained.

Carrick & Roisin 4-Ever

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