Chapter 13
“Leofric, if your wound opens—”
It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it. The stitches were to come out tomorrow; Godiva was well aware of that. At her clumsy protest, Leofric let out a rough laugh. And without hesitation, he acted. She belonged wholly to him.
“Ah—!”
It still hurts. The moment he pressed deeply into her, Godiva bit back a trembling cry. Something large and solid filled the emptiness within her, moving fiercely. Heat surged through her, and she trembled helplessly.
“Godiva, look at me.”
Leofric’s voice was firm. But she could not. She had never once looked at him at moments like this. She feared he might see pain in her eyes and misread it; she could not bring herself to meet his gaze.
“No… I can’t.”
“Now.”
The movement of the bed stopped at once. Holding her close, Leofric looked down at her.
“I won’t….”
Had she seen Leofric’s expression, something might have changed. But stubbornly, she turned her head aside. Who would want a woman who clung with sorrow in her eyes? She did not want him to feel sadness.
Leofric, I love you.
With her lips pressed tight, she whispered it silently in her heart.
I love you so much.
Emotion welled up, moistening her lashes.
If only you would want even my soul…
Leofric kissed the tears at the corner of his wife’s eyes and moved again. Pale skin and bronzed skin intertwined.
Is it selfish to want that much?
More than the weight of his body, it was the weight of her own sorrow that pressed upon her. Fresh tears gathered like dew at the corners of her eyes.
* * *
“Madam, the people in the market have been longing to see you.”
Greg Barber—the barber-surgeon—looked at Godiva with admiration. He had just removed the sutures from the lord’s wound, and the countess had followed him out to offer thanks. She was so beautiful that he found himself searching for reasons to linger a little longer in her presence.
“Ah…”
A faint mist clouded her violet eyes.
“And the matter of the taxes…?”
“Yes, unchanged. Everyone remains uneasy over it.”
She had been so consumed with Leofric’s condition that she had nearly forgotten the suffering tenants. Guilt darkened her gaze as she looked at him.
“B-but—”
Greg quickly waved his hands.
“That isn’t why I mentioned it. It’s just that, not seeing you these past few days, everyone has been worried for you… and praying for the lord’s recovery as well….”
He trailed off awkwardly, realizing he was rambling. It seemed he had only stirred her distress further.
“I see. In any case, you’ve worked hard these past days.”
“It was nothing, Madam….”
Even so, the barber did not leave.
“Is there… something else you wished to say?”
At her feet, he dropped to one knee, almost like a knight before his lady.
“Had you not assisted me, I might not have survived.”
“Greg Barber, please rise.”
Godiva felt uncomfortable.
“Madam… please permit me to kiss your hand.”
Before she could respond, he had already taken her hand. Kind-hearted as she was, she could not pull away at once. She looked down at the crown of his head. The kiss pressed to the back of her hand felt less like reverence and more like something warmer, more personal.
Godiva, who had rarely been touched by any man but Leofric, felt flustered.
“Madam….”
He pressed his lips more firmly against her pale hand.
“That will suffice.”
A cold voice sliced cleanly through the air of the hall.
“M-my lord!”
Startled, the barber released her at once.
“That is excessive for a mere gesture of respect.”
Regardless of rank, standing before such a man made one’s knees weak. The barber shrank back on his knees, retreating from Godiva. Whatever had stirred in him, he could not now defend it.
Something wordless and sharp passed between the two men—between the lord of Coventry and the barber.
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