Page 64 of Sword of Rage
On the second floor, they found the innkeeper sitting at a desk. Ackley paid him for one room. After obtaining the key, Ackley led Harley down the hallway to the last room. He pushed open the door, allowing her to enter first.
The single bed took up most of the space. At this point, she didn’t care whether she slept on the bed or the floor—she was happy to have a roof over her head. Before she had a chance to ask Ackley if he wanted the bed, the vision of them sharing it shoved its way in. She imagined removing his tunic, tracing the lines of his stomach, then lying next to him, pressed together. She shook her head, unable to believe she’d stood there daydreaming for a minute. She must be delirious from lack of sleep.
“Here.” Ackley helped her remove her bag. Then he placed both of their bags on the empty chair in the corner of the room. “Go to sleep,” he commanded, his deep voice husky in the dimly lit room. “I’m going to head out. Make sure to lock the door after I leave.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, untying her boots. “Will you be gone most of the night?”
“Probably.”
“Please be careful.” She removed her right boot, wincing as she did so.
“Your foot is bloody.”
“It’s just a few blisters. I’m fine.” She removed her left boot, dropping it to the floor along with her other one. Both of her feet throbbed with stinging pain.
Shaking his head, Ackley left the room.
After locking the door, Harley stretched out on the bed, not even bothering to change into her nightdress or climb under the covers. The bed practically hugged her body. Since she didn’t want to get blood on the blankets, she kept her feet dangling over the end of it.
The doorknob rattled, and her eyes flew open. Ackley opened the door, pocketing the key. He held a bucket in his other arm. “Sit up.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be out investigating?”
After closing the door, he set the bucket on the floor. “I said sit up.”
“I’m half asleep.” And she had no intention of sitting or doing anything else for that matter.
“Fine.” Gingerly, he slid his hands around her waist, flipping her body over onto her back. Then he slid his hands down her legs to her knees. He gently pulled her toward the end of the bed until her calves hung over the edge.
“What are you doing?” she asked, horrified. She hadn’t bathed in days, and she smelled.
He lifted her right leg, shoving her pants up. Then he placed her foot in the bucket filled with blissfully warm water.
A moan escaped her lips. “What’s in that?”
“Healing oils,” he answered, his voice amused.
Some part of her wanted to protest at him touching her so intimately, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. The warm water felt too luxurious to complain about his hand holding her calf.
After a couple of minutes, he removed her right foot from the bucket, inserting her left foot into the water. While it soaked, he dried her right foot and applied something cold and gooey on it. Then he repeated the same ministrations to her left foot. She vaguely felt him lift her legs back onto the bed, tucking her under the blankets.
* * *
Harley awoke. Blissful sunlight poured into the room, warming her. She sat up, stretching.
“Are you finally awake?” Ackley asked from somewhere on the floor next to the bed.
She peered over the side and found him lying on his back, crammed between the wall and the bed.
“Please tell me you didn’t sleep on the hard floor.” Not that there was much room on the bed for him or that sharing would have been appropriate.
“I spent most of the night going to different taverns and talking with the locals.”
He had to be exhausted. “Would you like to sleep on the bed for a few hours?”
“I’m good.” He yawned. “I was able to confirm most of what we already knew about Russek.” He went over to the window, glancing outside.
“King Drenton is truly dead?” The man responsible for sending his troops into her kingdom was dead?
