A Thorn In The Ice

Chapter Nine: On The Rocks*

Win some WATTCON2018 MERCH!
(details in authors note)

♡♡♡♡

Dedicated to: LJHron
Your post made my month.
Thank you so much for supporting my book. :)

_______________

"Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy."
-Frank Sinatra

After he had told Delilah all that he could, the cabin was filled with a noticeably tenser air.

The rest of the evening passed like this, as did most of the next day. Delilah remained ever so pleasant, but her attitude became filled with a distance and formality that had not been there before he had informed her that he was actually a Lord, one engaged to a beautiful princess no less.
For two days after she would rise before him, dress, cook and eat before waking him.
The brown haired forest beauty would wake him with his breakfast in hand, quickly handing it to him before heading outside to do her woodwork.
Outside his window he would hear the faint sound of chopping in the distance, and then the crashes of falling timber, those sounds the only reminder of her presence.

Her polite distance hurt him, and at times he found himself forcing away the dastardly wishing that that he hadnt told her anything at all, and that things could go back to the way that they had been before.
Her distance had only made him hyper aware of her presence when she was in fact around.
He caught himself stealing glimpses of her femine form when she wasn't looking, his eyes roaming her figure when she leant over the fireplace, and he wanted to hate himself for it; mostly his ungallantry to his female host, but also partly, for the way his body had started to react to hers whenever she was near.
Her scent would often invade his senses, threatening to choke him with its wonderfulness whenever she climbed into bed with him.
Sometimes he would awaken to her curling up against him in her sleep, tenderly, and the innocent action would flood his body with a rush of blood.
Simon did his best to rationalize his new, odd behaviour, as it was quite unlike his old self, but he never quite could.

He would pass the time she was away walking around the cabin, and when he felt able, doing some light chores; such as bringing in more firewood, cleaning the pots, and even putting more hat in the corral for Pompeii to eat upon his return from his hauling duties.
Delilah would return exhausted at dusk, staying out in the woods felling trees for hours longer than she had before they had had the discussion about his past.

The dark circles under her eyes and the slumping of her back as she would tiredly climb the cabin steps a dead give away to her exhaustion. The mountain woman would groggily make dinner, they would make polite conversation about the weather or some other mundane thing as they ate, and then she would all but tumble into bed and fall into a deep sleep.

By the noon of the third day, Simon could take it no longer. He rose from the bed and gingerly walked outside, taking slow, unsteady steps, he followed the tracks of her horse and the sounds of the axe as it met the timber until he found her.

"Delilah?" He called out gently, hoping not to startle her while she held such a sharp weapon in her hands.
"Simon?!?"
She jumped slightly, ceasing her hacks and turning sharply on her heel.
"Are you crazy? Why did you walk all the way out here? What if you hurt yourself"
She began to chide, rushing up to examine him, showing him the first bit of real emotion that he had seen on her in days.

"Lady, I'm fine."
He laughed at her prodding, grabbing her wrists to stop her from poking at his ribs. This made the distance between them close, too close, he noted, his laughter ceasing, suddenly overtaken by her woodsy scent.
Like dropping a hot coal he quickly released her and shifted backwards.
"I'm fine Delilah. I promise."
He continued with a warm smile, trying to avoid any more tense awkwardness.