inbox cleaning. @foreverwhispers said: ( from fitz ) “I could’ve handled it myself, you know.”
❛❛ oh, yes I know. my brave, strong lieutenant. ❜❜
ESMERALDA SMOTHERED THE EYEROLL forming in her skull and pulled the knotted linen at her knuckles tight between her teeth. thankfully, the scrapes only stung: she'd gotten into fights with little lordly children with their father's wealth around their fingers that hurt a DAMNED SIGHT MORE than unpleasant fists. ( nevermind the throb of a sword's edge, or a lead BULLET in the skin ) she lamented the loss of part of her petticoat more, in truth. a GENTLEMAN would, perhaps, offer up his cravat instead –– to protect the lady's decency –– but Fitzwilliam Dalton was no gentleman.
once she was finished with her own care, and ONLY once satisfied that she'd staved off infection, did she turn to his little indisposition: a minor cut there above his brow, bleeding rather nastily when first acquired but now practically healed, revealing itself to be thin, and shallow, and overall of little consequence. but Mr. Dalton would never hear of such things when a hero's wound would put him at the center of attention and indulgence. Esmeralda dipped her rag in the solution of uncut rum again, wiping it over the scab mostly gentle ... but perhaps a little harsher than absolutely necessary. most women yearn after an earl's son that would gallantly rush to their protection. a dashing, imposing bull of a man. and yet here she was with THIS ONE.
❛❛ you nearly had the brunette. I saw a lock of their hair fall. ❜❜
