The Fire's Center (11 page)

She observed as they were about to get into the coach that the sky was again iron grey, and though the inn had made every effort to warm the coach with foot warmers and hot bricks, it was still bitterly cold.

"There must be some travelling rugs around here somewhere." Lucien scowled as he opened up the seat and began to tug out two red and green tartan throws. "But that dress isn’t nearly warm enough for you," he observed as the wind whipped around Riona’s skirts unmercifully.

"Really, I’ll be fine once we get into the coach," she said with an uncontrollable shiver.

Lucien helped her up inside, and then offered her one of his spare jackets, which she put on under her cloak.

"We’ll buy you some warmer clothes in Monaghan if we get there before the shops close," he said.

"In the meantime, we’ll just have to shut the windows and shades, and keep warm the best we can," he remarked, smiling as he observed it was so cold inside that he could see his own breath.

He made Riona comfortable in one of the corners of the carriage facing forwards, and placed a small circle of foot warmers around her, and then gave her a hand warmer.

"You need a muff as well," he noted, and then offered her his gloves.

"No, really, I can’t, you need them." She shook her head.

"I insist."

Riona glanced at the firm set of his mouth, and then proposed, "How about we each wear one, and we share the hand warmer?"

She took the left glove, and held the hand warmer in her right hand, while Lucien tugged on the right one, and grasped her tiny hand and the hand warmer in his left. With his gloved right hand he tucked them in under the blankets, and slid over on the seat to be as close to Riona as possible.

They passed the long arduous journey chatting amiably. They tried to read the papers by the dim light coming through the shades, but even when they did dare open them, it was so dark outside, it was almost as though it were night.

So they resumed their conversation from the previous evening, and Lucien subtly began instructing her in medical studies. He saw she was quick to pick up details, and asked many intelligent questions. He was so impressed that he jokingly suggested they pass the time with him having her memorise all the bones in the body, starting from the head down.

"Coronal Suture, frontal bone, temporal bone, nasal bone, maxilla bone, zygomatic bone, the maxilla, mandible..." he began to recite, pointing at each on his own head.

Thus they spent a pleasant if arctic four hours until they stopped at Clones for their meal, which they ate hurriedly for fear of the weather worsening.

But Lucien did manage to spot a clothes shop in the swirling snow, and purchased Riona the heaviest woollen dress in the shop, in a rich deep sable, as well as a woollen shawl, some flannel underthings, and a thick, heavy pair of boots, since he had noticed the soles of the ones Riona was wearing were nearly worn through.

Riona, still waiting for him back at the inn, smiled gratefully, and went into the small washroom to change. She tugged on the flannel petticoats, then the dress, and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders before tying the ends around her waist and fastening them in a knot at the front.

She tugged on another pair of woollen stockings Lucien had bought her, and then the boots, and finally Riona put her cloak back on and pulled the hood up over her head.

 
It was only as they had got into the coach that Lucien muttered, "Oh dear, I forgot the one thing you really needed, gloves."

 
Riona shrugged. "We got along well enough this morning, so here, take this glove, and grab the hand warmer."

In truth, Riona was not entirely unhappy to have to spend hours huddled under a blanket with Lucien holding his hand, and at least his thoughtful purchases meant she was a great deal warmer than she had been that morning.

"Thank you for being so kind, about the boots and underthings." She smiled, and gave him a shy peck on the cheek.

"Think nothing of it, my dear."

Lucien beamed down at her fondly, his golden eyes lighting up his whole face. But lest they grew too serious, he said, "Now, we’re onto the hands, metacarpals and so on, but first we need to test you on what you learnt this morning."

"Yes, Dr. Woulfe," Riona replied meekly. "If I pass, do I get to put together my own skeleton?"

Lucien grinned. "We’ll think of some other prize for you, I’m sure, Riona."

The warmth of the clothes, the fine dinner she had had, and the heat from the foot warmers and Lucien’s own large frame soon caused Riona’s eyelids to droop, however.

Lucien tucked her head against his shoulder, and still clasping her right hand firmly in his own, only this time without the hand warmer, he slid his other arm around her waist and allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well.

A jolt several hours later awoke him, and a signpost encrusted in snow outside the window when he opened the shade a crack informed Lucien that they were on the outskirts of Monaghan. He was about to wake Riona, when he halted.

The dim light entering the carriage rested on her face, and he saw her smile in her sleep. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and kissed Riona on the lips.

She sighed softly, opening her mouth a fraction as she did so, and the kiss deepened. Riona could feel the kiss, and for a moment thought it was dream.

But as she fluttered her lids drowsily, she could see Lucien quite clearly, and wondered what she should do. If he knew she was aware of him kissing her, what might he think? Wouldn’t it be better simply to pretend she was still asleep? At the same time, curiosity over the kiss told her to respond.

In the end, however, Riona decided upon the first option, and waited for him to lift his head before making a show of opening her eyes sleepily, and asking if they were there yet.

"Nearly at the inn," he confirmed, gazing down at her warmly with his tawny golden eyes.

Riona held onto his hand tightly, and moved her left hand over to cover them again with the blanket, before placing it on the arm he still had securely wrapped about her waist.

"Now where were we, coronal suture..." she said with a laugh.

Lucien laughed too, a full-throated, hearty chuckle. Riona marvelled to herself at how young he looked compared to when she had first met him, when he had seemed so serious and careworn.

Lucien’s thoughts were running along similar lines, as he thought how young and innocent Riona had looked as she slept and how he had taken advantage of her.

But she seemed to be completely unaware of what he had done. Best just to leave it at that, and not do anything which might destroy their growing friendship for one another.

She was a poor girl, a stranger to Dublin, with a needy family, looking for her father, and some way to support herself if she couldn’t locate him. It would be the height of stupidity to try to kiss Riona whilst she was awake. The last thing Lucien wanted was for Riona to feel grateful to him, and mistake that feeling for something more.

So he listened as she recited her list of bones, and enjoyed the luxury of simply holding her hand and being with her. He wondered if her whole family was very close, as she certainly seemed to be utterly at ease with him holding her hand. Unless of course she had had a suitor?

The thought dampened his spirits somewhat, until he cheered himself up by reflecting that since none of the married couples he knew ever even sat side by side, let alone held hands, it was probably extremely unlikely.

Antoinette had always possessed such a rigid demeanour, Lucien had on more than one occasion felt himself surprised that she and his brother had ever managed to have a child at all, let alone two, but then Lucien pushed this uncharitable thought aside as he began to add to Riona's list of bones.

Once outside of the inn, Lucien swept her up into his arms as she tried to step out of the coach, and carried her into the foyer.

"Sorry, my dear, but even with those new boots there's too much snow underfoot. I wouldn’t want you to get a chill," he explained as he carried her into the hotel and set her down in front of the desk.

After ordering the two best rooms available, Lucien observed that the dining room was filled with guests having tea, and so ordered their tea and evening meal up in their room, as well as a hot bath.

"Which room will you have it in, sir?" the manager asked.

"The lady’s room please," Lucien stated, and followed the porters who climbed upstairs with their bags.

A bevy of servants began to fill the tub almost immediately, and Lucien disappeared into his own room, where he began to unpack some clean articles and his shaving kit.

At length he wondered why no one was bringing any hot water to him, until he realised the query had not been simply about the food, but also the hot water.

Oh damn,
he thought, assuming he would have to do without until the servants were finished drawing Riona’s bath.

But just then a tap came at the door, and Riona poked her head in. "I’m sorry to disturb you, Dr. Woulfe, but they’ve laid out all sorts of barbering items in my room, and the manservant is waiting to give you a shave. Won’t you come in?"

"Er, don’t you mind?"

"Not at all," Riona replied as she looked around his room to compare it with her own. "My fire is drawing very well compared to that tiny flame you have in your hearth. In any case, there's a screen, so it’s perfectly decent. I don’t mind sharing at all. It will save the servants some work."

"I’ll be there in a moment, then."

Lucien gathered up his dressing gown and crossed the landing, tapping on Riona’s door and entering just as she was taking off her cloak.

"Here, let me," he offered, and hung it up on the peg, before helping her undo the knotted shawl, and removing it as well.

"Thank you so much. My fingers were frozen."

The manservant then sat Lucien down by the window where he had laid out all of his razors and scissors. Soon Lucien was closely shaven, and sleek-headed with pomander.

The young man was pleased at his handiwork, and asked Riona, "There now, don’t you think your husband looks a picture?"

"A picture indeed." She grinned at Lucien, and handed the young man a coin from Lucien’s jacket pocket as he had indicated.

The valet thanked her heartily and left the room. Only then did she begin to laugh.

Lucien scowled, inexplicably piqued that she might have found the idea of them being a couple amusing. "What on earth is so funny?"

But she merely said, "I hate to admit it, but that pomander is awful. I think I prefer your lice lotion."