The Secret Attachment

IV

"What do they call you, my lady?" he asked her, as he gently lifted her skirt again, just enough to expose her wound.

Little did her rescuer know, she was not a lady.

He looked like a gentleman, though. He was dressed finely. Of course, most of his clothing was covered by a thick, dark cloak, no doubt made of warm wool. But she could see the brass buttons and his golden pocket watch through the gape.

"Katy Fairchild," she replied.

His dark hair fell into his brown eyes, and he quickly brushed it away as his hands hovered over her leg, as though he was thinking of what to do. But he looked up at her and smiled.

It was then that she could appreciate just how handsome he was. His smile resulted in deep dimples in his cheeks. He had a nice face, with a strong jaw, and a straight nose. But his dimples were youthful, and she guessed that he was only a few years older than she was.

The stranger removed her boot and tore at her stocking, removing it from her leg. The fabric that was lifted from the wound sent sharp pains up her leg, and Katy winced.

"I am sorry, Miss Katy," he apologised sincerely. He turned and opened a leather pouch that was attached to his horse's saddle. He removed a metallic flask and gave her a regretful expression. "Please do not think poorly of me. This is whiskey, it will sting, but it will clean your leg."

No sooner had he offered her that warning, he poured the golden liquid onto Katy's leg.

It was the first time in her life that Katy had ever wanted to utter a swear word. She cried out in pain and the stranger offered her words of consolation, but they were of little comfort to her. Much to her frustration, tears escaped her eyes.

The stranger quickly removed his coat and untucked his shirt from his breeches. He ripped at the seam and tore off a strip of fabric, before wrapping Katy's leg with it. He fastened the fabric tightly and Katy hissed in pain.

"I am sorry, Miss Katy," he apologised for the tenth time.

"No, do not apologise," she huffed, "it is I who should be apologising. My clumsiness nearly got us both killed. I am sorry I fell into you like that." Katy quickly covered her legs with her skirt. She immediately felt better, which was silly as she was no doubt going to be covered in bruises tomorrow.

"You are shivering," he remarked. "Please, allow me." He wrapped his woollen coat around Katy, and its size completely enveloped her. She had not realised that she was also feeling the cold as well as her injuries.

"Who are you?" Katy asked.

"Harry," he replied.

"And what should I call you?" Katy could not call him by his first name.

"Just Harry," he insisted.

Katy did not feel right calling a gentleman by his first name. She would try to avoid it. But she was unsure of why she could not know his surname.

"How did you learn to do that?" she asked, motioning to her leg.

Harry grinned. "Well, I suppose I was quite boisterous as a boy. I learned quickly to tend to my own wounds before my mother found them." Harry looked out into the woods and frowned. Water was rushing over the rock ledge like it was a miniature waterfall. "What weather," he remarked. "And what is a young lady like you doing out in it?" Harry turned to her.

"I had to run an errand," she replied.

"And it could not wait?" he queried.

Katy shook her head and winced when she realised the stiffness in those muscles. "I am not a lady," she confessed. "So, when I am tasked with something, I do it."