Chapter 310: A Most Improper Examination
Chapter 309: A Most Improper Examination
Lyria’s POV
I shook my head at once.
Perhaps rather too eagerly.
"N-no," I said quickly. "I am q-quite well. It was j-just... s-something else."
I could feel my cheeks growing even warmer.
"A c-circumstance t-that m-made me...I d-do not have a f-fever."
He regarded me for another moment, still appearing unconvinced.
"Are you quite certain?" he asked gently.
I nodded.
Perhaps with slightly more enthusiasm than was necessary.
"P-perfectly certain. M-my maids c-can attest to it."
He glanced towards them.
Elara immediately stepped forward.
"Her Highness speaks the truth, my lord," she said respectfully. "As she mentioned earlier, the physician has given her leave to resume light activities. She is healing remarkably well and has shown no sign of fever."
The concern left Earl Hawthorne’s face almost instantly.
A warm smile returned.
"Well then," he said, "if that is the case, I believe we may proceed with what I have planned."
He reached for my hands.
His fingers enclosed mine with gentle confidence before he led me farther into the training grounds, guiding me towards one of the grand weapon racks lining the wall.
For one brief, bewildering moment...
It felt as though the entire world had tilted beneath my feet.
Then, just as naturally, he released me.
He turned towards the display of weapons, examining the neatly arranged swords as though nothing particularly remarkable had just occurred.
I stared down at my hands.
They were empty now.
Yet I could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch.
The gentle pressure of his fingers.
The quiet steadiness with which he had held mine.
It had felt...
Natural.
Did he truly not realise what he had done?
Did he have any notion of how such an ordinary gesture had affected me?
I stole another glance in his direction, searching for the slightest indication that he had noticed my reaction.
Or perhaps...
Perhaps he had felt something akin to what I was feeling.
Yet he appeared entirely occupied with inspecting the collection of weapons before him, his attention fixed upon the various blades as he considered them with quiet concentration.
I lowered my gaze.
I was thinking far too much.
He had merely taken my hands to lead me across the hall.
Nothing more.
There had been no hidden meaning behind it.
He had simply been courteous.
Simply behaving as any gentleman ought.
And yet...
The memory of his touch refused to leave me.
I shook my head once more, firmly banishing the thoughts before they could wander any further.
I simply could not afford to read meaning into every kindness Earl Hawthorne showed me.
He was only being his usual considerate self.
Earl Hawthorne turned to me, his gaze warm and inquisitive as he gestured towards the weapons displayed before us.
"Your Highness," he said, "have you ever held a sword before?"
I blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by the question.
It seemed rather absurd, considering my circumstances.
I raised an eyebrow.
"D-do I l-look like s-someone who h-has ever held a s-sword b-before?" I asked.
He studied me for a moment, his gaze travelling thoughtfully over my form, though there was nothing impolite about it.
Then he chuckled, the sound low and genuine.
"No," he admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. "You do not. I confess I find it rather difficult to picture."
He turned fully towards me then, his attention no longer on the weapon rack.
"May I hold you?" he asked.
I stared at him.
The question was so unexpected that my thoughts simply stopped.
For a long moment...
I merely blinked.
"P-pardon?" I managed.
"May I hold you?" he repeated patiently, his tone perfectly earnest. "I should like to assess the condition of your muscles, Your Highness. If I am to teach you how to defend yourself, I must first understand what we are working with. It will help me determine how best to proceed."
I tilted my head ever so slightly.
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips.
"Y-you ask for my p-permission n-now," I observed, "when y-you d-did not ask the f-first time?"
The tips of his ears turned pink.
A rather fetching shade of colour slowly spread across his cheeks before creeping down towards his collar.
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck—a gesture so unexpectedly awkward that I found it strangely endearing.
"I... yes," he admitted with a sheepish laugh. "My apologies, Your Highness. I ought to have asked before touching you earlier. It was never my intention to be overly familiar or to make you uncomfortable."
He lowered his hand.
"I simply... acted before I thought."
I watched him quietly.
A curious thought entered my mind.
Could it be...
That he had been just as flustered as I had?
That perhaps he had reached for me without thinking because something had compelled him to do so?
The notion sent another flutter racing through my chest.
I hastily pushed it aside.
Offering him a reassuring smile, I shook my head.
"Y-you need n-not apologise," I said softly. "I w-was not u-uncomfortable."
I hesitated.
"And... y-you may t-touch me."
For the briefest moment, something softened in his expression.
Relief perhaps I was not quite certain.
He inclined his head.
"Thank you, Your Highness."
Then he stepped closer.
His hands came to rest gently upon my shoulders.
His touch was careful and respectful.
He applied only the lightest pressure as his palms moved slowly down my upper arms, feeling the firmness of the muscles beneath the fabric with the concentration of someone entirely devoted to the task before him.
I found myself holding my breath.
He stood so near now that I could make out every delicate detail of his face.
The long lashes framing his eyes.
The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
The slight parting of his lips whenever he paused to consider something.
Even the quiet rise and fall of his breathing.
And...
I could smell him.