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Chapter Twenty One "Oneesan, are you sure you don't want me or Boss going out for you?" Jillas asked, standing next to Filia by the window. Filia let the curtain drop with a sigh. "Unfortunately, I'm not quite certain what I'm going to need to buy to fill that order for that custom vase. I need to look over what paints are available myself." "Then maybe go another day when it's not so wet?" "That's a luxury I don't think we have now. It's barely stopped raining at all in the last two days, and doesn't seem to be showing signs of letting up." Jillas patted her arm. "In that case, I'll have some hot water ready for tea and a bath to warm you up when you come back." He gave her a beaming smile. "We don't want you catching your death of cold." "And with you, it could all too easily become literal," she heard Valgaav say, and jumped slightly as his arms went around her waist, nuzzling her neck. "Where did you come from?" Filia asked, not having heard his approach. She couldn't help but blush furiously at the blatant display of affection put forth in front of someone else. Jillas just chuckled and patted her arm, moving away. "From an egg?" Valgaav asked, giving her a smart-alecky smirk, which earned him a light thwap on his shoulder. "You're impossible." "Not with you," he said, and there was just enough of a leer in his tone that Filia blushed even more, looking at him with wide, almost indignant eyes. "Valgaav!" she chided under her breath. "What?" Arguments were starting to flee coherent thought when his lips brushed over her ears as he whispered. "If it's because of Jillas and Gravos, it's not as though they're going to think any less of you." He was right. She knew this. But still! Such forthrightness! It just wasn't done! She started to point that out, but when he lightly nipped her earlobe, her train of thought collided in a wreck that was even messier than the disaster Lina and Zelgadis caused at the Karyouh no Shinden. "Shall we depart?" he whispered. "Hrm?" she murmured lazily, leaning back against him. "Depart where?" Valgaav chuckled softly. "For the market." Reality snapped back into focus, and she blushed a deep crimson. "Oh! Yes, yes, of course," she stammered, pulling away and trying to recollect her wits. "Yes, just, ah...just let me fetch my clo--" She was cut off as Valgaav picked her cloak off the chair and placed it on her arms. Filia blinked rapidly as she stared at the cloak, thrown off stride. Then she attempted to get back on track. "Yes, er, very good, um, oh! And a bask--" A wicker basket was likewise deposited on top of the cloak. Valgaav was watching her with a very mischievous smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and Filia scowled. "And my list!" He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. "Would this be it?" he inquired, turning it to show her. Filia closed her eyes. "Yes, yes, that's very good." She shot him a glare. "You did all this on purpose, didn't you?" All she got in answer was a shrug and a look of wide-eyed innocence that was just a bit too innocent. Muttering good-naturedly, she fastened the cloak around her and pulled up the hood. Valgaav was already wearing his own, and he opened the door with a grand, sweeping gesture. "After you, my lady." Filia stared at him then shook her head, smiling in bemusement as she stepped out into the rain. Somehow, she was never able to stay even mildly annoyed with him for long. She kept her head ducked for the hood to protect her face, and the basket on her arm under the cloak. Valgaav fell into stride with her and she felt one hand resting against the small of her back through the cloak possessively. She felt a blush burn her cheeks, but whether it was from being flustered at the contact, or in pleased happiness, it was anyone's guess. In spite of the rain, it was fairly busy among the market square. There were still businesses to operate, purchases to make, errands to run. Most villagers were made of sterner stuff than to let the steady downpour and the soupy conditions of the roads which hadn't been laid with cobblestones stop them. However, it did mean that travel was curtailed, and getting from one place to another was a slower process. More people were about and about at the same time due to that, when normally some would be already finished with their errands as others were starting out. The shops were likewise crowded, as people ducked in for a respite from the rain, and to catch up on news and town gossip. Valgaav ushered Filia into the general store, and although she hated crowds, the stuffy heat radiating from the potbellied stove and the warm bodies packed in the building was welcome after the chill of the rainy wind. Valgaav looked uncomfortable though, and he moved his arm tightly around Filia's waist. He kept her flush against him as they moved first to the paints, and then to the textiles for some spools of thread and other sundries. "If you want to wait by the door?" Filia suggested, noting the tense look in his eyes. Valgaav shook his head. "Not gonna chance leaving you alone." Giving him a small, affectionate smile, Filia patted his cheek and stopped by the shelf of paints, looking over the various products in an attempt to find the correct shade of red. She could always mix the colors to obtain it, but that was a tricky process. If she didn't make enough first time around, it was nigh on impossible to get the exact hue again. "There you are, Missus Filia! I was about to go to your shop next!" Filia looked up at the feminine voice as Valgaav stiffened, both of them scanning the crowd until they spotted the slight brown-haired woman moving toward them. "Oh, good day, Missus Varsha," Filia said, smiling at her customer. "How are you?" She appeared a bit embarrassed. "I've been better, truth be told. Joseph was laid up with that cough, if you remember." Filia nodded, listening. "Well, he wasn't able to get the fields finished before the rains came, and we barely managed to save enough to tide us over the winter, let alone sell." Missus Varsha blushed furiously, ducking her head. "The tea set I ordered? I'm afraid we just don't have the money. I'm hoping to sell enough quilts to pay off the store as it is." Filia smiled and patted her shoulder. "I know how that can go. I'll tell you what. Why don't you come by and pick it up when it's finished drying, and you can pay me back later when circumstances look up a bit more?" Missus Varsha's eyes widened. "Oh, but I couldn't possibly!" she protested. "Missus Filia, it wouldn't be right!" "Don't worry ab--" Filia stopped, something sinking in, and she blinked. "Did you just say 'missus'?" "Well, of course." Missus Varsha raised an eyebrow. "You two are married, are you not?" "That we are," Valgaav said before Filia could answer, and she ducked her head to hide the blush, hearing the faint smirk in his tone. Missus Varsha chuckled, and patted Filia's arm. "Still a shy one, I see. But I just couldn't take that set without giving something in return." "Then maybe you could do something for me in exchange?" Filia suggested. "Barter goods instead of gold? That I can do. What would you like me to do?" "Whatever you decide would be fine, I'm sure," Filia replied. "But please, Missus Varsha, don't put yourself through too much trouble over it. I really am fine with waiting." "I'll see what I can come up with. Thank you so much, Missus Filia." "Think nothing of it, please. You have a good day." "You too! Take care." After she was out of earshot, Filia turned to Valgaav. "Why did you say that?" she hissed under her breath. "Say what? That we're married?" he asked. At her nod, he continued. "Heh, Filia, they've been thinking that for months, and I never tried to correct them. Otherwise, you'd risk being a target for gossip, living there with the three of us. Besides, it's more or less true now." Filia bit her lip. The risk of gossip had never even begun to cross her mind. Then she studied him. "How many months?" "Since we pretty much moved in there." She blinked. "But..." Filia trailed off, blinking again, looking at him with wide eyes. "Even then? Even though you couldn't stand me?" Valgaav shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "You weren't doing a damn improper thing. I figured you deserved that much protection at least, for saving my life." Filia smiled softly and stood on tiptoe, kissing his cheek. "You're a sweetheart." "Yeah, but don't tell anyone." He smirked. "I thought I had a reputation to consider." Filia just grinned and returned back to the paints, finally giving up and selecting the several she needed to set up the correct color, and hoped she bought the right amounts. Next were threads, buttons, and lace for her to mend some of the clothes, and by the time they were able to pay for the purchases and work their way through the crowd which seemed even more dense than when they first came in, Filia realized it was now storming. The rain was coming down in sheets, which was what had driven more people into shelter, and she could hear the rumble of thunder over the steady sound of rain pounding on the roofs. Together they huddled under the meager protection the shop awning provided, staring at the worsening weather in dismay. "Do you have anywhere else you needed to go?" Valgaav asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. Filia shook her head. "Even if I did, I'm not that crazy!" He grinned at her. "That's debatable!" That comment earned him an elbow in the ribs. "Should we make a run for home, then?" "Let's wait a few more minutes! Maybe the rain will slack off! Why don't you go back inside and wait by the door? You'll be warmer!" Filia shook her head, and nuzzled closer to him. "Plenty warm!" He grinned and hugged her tightly, watching the storm overhead. Filia tried to look up, but rain kept falling into her eyes, hitting her face, running down her neck, under her cloak. How Valgaav could stand it, she didn't know, but Filia lowered her head, keeping shielded under the hood. She watched a young woman, perhaps no older than her mid-teens, make her way across the mud-soup road, struggling with each step while trying to keep the drenched, threadbare cape she wore secured around her. Then her ears picked up a shout nearly drowned by the storm, and the girl looked up. Filia saw her suddenly lunge forward for the other side, trying to run, only to slip in the mud. Glancing down the street, her eyes widened as she made out the rain-blurred shape of a runaway team of horses, startled by the thunder. Fear fueled the adrenaline, letting them pull a wagon full of something even through the mud, which splashed like water puddles as they tore through the street. Without even thinking of what she was doing, Filia dropped her own basket and pulled away from Valgaav. "Levitation!" Keeping just barely a whisker's width above the ground for appearance's sake and seeming to run, Filia flew toward the girl as the team approached, grabbing her around the waist tightly to pull her out of harm's way. Filia's momentum kept them moving forward, but the thick mud offered enough drag that they both crashed into the ground and rolled. Filia quickly gained control of it and came to rest on top of the girl, curling them both up as small as possible and shielding their heads for the horses to thunder by. Normally, that would have worked. Filia was gone from his side before Valgaav could blink, and she was already picking up whoever it was in the middle of the street by the time his mind processed the situation. A sickening feeling hit him as he realized what would happen even before it actually started as Filia darted in front of the terrified horses. While Filia appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary human to the other villagers, taking care to keep her tail and tapered ears concealed, Valgaav knew the horses wouldn't be fooled as easily. To everyone else, it was a courageous woman who ran in front of the runaway team, but to them, it was a lethal predator that suddenly appeared before them. It was too late to do anything but watch. Whinnying sharply, both of them skidded to a stop, slipping in the mud as they reared back, shying away from Filia. The inertia of the wagon collided with the tongue attached to their harnesses, sending both of the horses crashing to the ground and rolling, neighing shrilly as they flailed. He lost sight of her then. The sudden stop and twist of the falling horses caused the wagon to tumble over onto its side, spilling out crates, and rolled over twice in the direction he last saw Filia before finally stopping. But the wagon remained still only briefly as one of the horses managed to regain its footing, attempting to run even as its teammate still lay in the mud, shrieking painfully. The wagon skidded over the mud again, colliding against a crate and coming to a stop. The drag was too much for one horse now. The commotion brought people out of the shops in spite of the rain, and now that it appeared to be over, bodies pressed forward to circle the scene. Several men ran forward to cut the still-standing horse loose from the harness before any more damage was done, while others raced toward the wagon. That was where Valgaav went, pushing past everyone to look for Filia. She was half-under the wagon, and from the looks of things, he surmised that it was dragged on top of her when the horse tried to run one last time. "Filia!" he shouted, moving over and grabbing the wagon, giving it a vicious heave to lift it off her. Two dazed, sapphire blue eyes appeared in the middle of a mud-covered face, and at first, Valgaav had a bloodcurdling fear that she had been severed at the torso. Once his eyes refocused, he realized the weight of the wagon had merely pushed Filia deep into the mud. With the aid of some of the others, he pulled her free, and alternated between hugging her fiercely and checking her for injuries. "Are you okay?" he demanded, holding her face in his hands, looking into her eyes, wiping the mud off her cheeks. Filia just nodded, and her eyes seemed slightly unfocused. She was also quaking violently, and appeared to be in shock. Aside from that, as far as he could tell, both Filia and the girl had escaped with probably some minor bruising at the most, which was a miracle in itself. The ground apparently was saturated enough to give under them, preventing the women from being crushed by the wagon. He tried to speak, but couldn't. The aftermath of fear was catching up to him, and all he could do was stay kneeling in the mud, holding Filia tightly and trying not to see how close he came to losing her. A sharp crack reverberated in the air and he jumped, looking in the direction of the noise. A man stood with a musket by the second horse, which as far as Valgaav had seen, had never gotten back to its feet. Valgaav stood, still holding Filia in his arms, and staggered a bit in the mud. A hand on his arm gave him pause, and one of the women held out Filia's basket to him. Giving her a nod of thanks, Valgaav walked away from the pandemonium and returned to the house. "Jillas! Gravos!" he shouted as he kicked in the kitchen door, knowing it was bound to be one of the warmer rooms with the fire roaring. The two servants came running in, exclaiming in surprise as they saw him. "What happened?" Jillas demanded. "Oneesan!" "I think she's fine, but she's in shock. Gravos, get that table cleared off now! Jillas, get some hot water and a washcloth!" Valgaav lay Filia on the tablecloth, ignoring the sting of the near-boiling water as he plunged the cloth in, and held it up a few seconds to the air to let it cool somewhat before wiping at Filia's face. "What can we do, boss?" Gravos asked, standing over his shoulder as he looked on worriedly. "You can get a hot bath drawn up for her immediately. Jillas, clear some of that mud off her boots and pull them off." Filia didn't offer any protest, laying completely still and just breathing. Growing worried, he patted her cheek. "Filia, wake up, stay with me." She opened her eyes, and they met his own with a dizzy light. "M'here," she managed between chattering teeth. "You're safe, Filia, everyone's safe. Just hold on, we'll get you warmed up." Valgaav guessed the discordant look in her eyes would fade once she was warmer, and the adrenaline and fear wore off. "Now what, Lord Valgaav?" Jillas asked, setting the muddy boots by the back door. "Go and put her robe in the bathroom." He paused, thinking. "And might as well put a change of clothes in there for me, and a sack for the muddy stuff." "I filled up the tub, boss," Gravos said, looking back into the kitchen as Jillas scurried out. "Great, thanks." Valgaav unclasped Filia's cloak. "Could you take her up there for me? I'll be just another minute." "Sure thing." Gently, Gravos picked up Filia, lumbering out of the kitchen and taking care not to hit her head or feet on the doorway. Valgaav shrugged out of his own cloak and bent down, unlacing his boots and moving over to the hallway entrance, stepping out one foot at a time as he removed the boots, trying not to track any more mud than was there already. Gravos stood in the bathroom, still holding Filia and looking around when Valgaav walked in. "Boss, I dunno where to put her down at," Gravos said. "Never mind that. Just give her to me, and I'll take it from here." "Sure thing, boss." After Gravos closed the door behind him, Valgaav carefully set Filia onto her feet, keeping her close to him to steady her. He knew Filia could probably manage this on her own if she had to. He also knew that she didn't have to, and that he really had no desire to let her out of his sight for longer than absolutely necessary. She murmured in a token protest, raising her hands as he began unbuttoning her blouse, and he stopped. "Filia?" "Cold." "We've got a hot bath here for you." She was still for a moment, then with fumbling fingers, she started helping him. "'kay," she murmured. The most prevalent thought on his mind was getting her cleaned off, warmed up, and calmed down. Once she was feeling better, he knew he would be. That was just too close a call for his liking. As he helped her remove her mud-ruined clothes, Valgaav couldn't help but wonder if he was cursed, or just a jinx. His family. Caitarina. Gaav. All dead. Today, he thought he was watching Filia, in spite of all his precautions, meet the same fate. It took all his concentration to keep steady as he helped her into the water, still trying to banish that realization from his mind. Letting go of her reluctantly, Valgaav stepped back, looking around for a water basin to start cleaning the mud off himself. Spotting it sitting by the bathroom's small stove Jillas had installed to provide additional heat, Valgaav turned to put Filia's clothes in the sack when he noticed she was curled up, her head almost underwater. "Hey, whoa, c'mon," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. She spluttered and coughed as water splashed on her face, then shot him a slight glare, her eyes already clearer. "I was just getting warm!" she protested, then her eyes became enormous as her heat-pinked skin grew even pinker and she pressed herself up against the edge of the tub, her eyes barely peeking over the rim, trying to hide. "What are you doing in here?" she squeaked. After all the extreme stress, Valgaav almost laughed. Filia presented such a comical appearance, with her hair still plastered with mud, her eyes just about the only other feature visible over the rim, surrounded by skin that was extraordinarily flushed. In the back of his mind, he knew laughing wouldn't be the wisest of moves on his part, so he bit his lip, smothering a smirk. "You were barely coherent, and yes, I know you needed to get warm." He eyed what little of her ever-reddening face was visible, framed by her fingertips clutching the rim of the tub on either side, and tried to resist the urge to comment. Bless his heart, he tried. "Warm enough yet?" he quipped, giving her a small smirk. Valgaav hadn't thought it possible for her eyes to get even bigger than they already were, but she proved him wrong. Then immediately thereafter, they narrowed, and her arm appeared over the rim of the tub -- following a nice little tsunami that caught him fully on the face. "Hentai!" she screeched. He spluttered, wiping away the water, and smirked wider. "You weren't complaining earlier," he retorted, and this time he was prepared to duck the second wave. "You keep that up, and you'll wind up having to take your bath on the floor 'cause that's where all the water will be." Filia's reply was to scowl at him. "If you don't hurry up and wash your hair, the water's going to get cold on you," he continued, standing up and putting her clothes in the bag, starting to remove his own. "I will once you..." She trailed off and squeaked. "What are you doing?" "Getting cleaned up. In case you haven't noticed, I've got quite a bit on me too." "But I'm in here!" This time he sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I can see that," he retorted, continuing. "I, however, am also rather cold and I don't particularly feel like skulking about the hallway shivering while I wait for you to wake up from your tub-induced nap. Not to mention I'm not all that eager to let you out of my sight at the moment." She started to protest, and he knelt by the tub, grabbing her upper arms gently, pulling her up a bit. Filia squeaked in protest, trying to keep as much of herself past the rim and under water as possible, but she stopped struggling as he spoke. "Do you have any idea what it was like out there today?" he asked quietly, his voice sounding thick even to his own ears. "I almost lost you. There was nothing I could do about it, nothing. I had to stand there and watch, and I lost sight of you under that wagon and I thought I'd lost you, just like I'd lost everyone else." Her expression quickly shifted from embarrassed indignation to a solemn kind of sadness as she reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. Watching her eyes fill with unshed tears, he shook his head. "Ah, hell," he muttered, sotto voce, then put his hand behind her neck, holding her steady as he kissed her with an adrenaline-fueled passion that left him breathless. She rested her forehead against his as the kiss ended, keeping her eyes closed. She was blushing violently, and he wasn't even all that certain at first that he actually heard her speak. "As long as you're here, would you help me wash my hair?" He kissed her again, more gently this time as his hands released her, removing the rest of his clothes and stepped in with her, holding her tightly. She was tense, her arms crossed over her, and kept her head ducked shyly even as she nuzzled against his chest. Picking up the soap, he worked up a lather in her hair, gently moving his fingers through the locks, working out the mud and tangles. As she started to relax and some of the shyness began to evaporate, Filia took the soap and began cleaning the dirt off her arms, face and legs. Valgaav sat up straighter and leaned out of the tub, reaching for the water pitcher resting on the stove. He tested it to make sure that the water wasn't too hot, then carefully poured it over her head, taking his time, slowly making sure he rinsed all the soap out, keeping her hair suspended above the tub water. Once he was sure it was clean, he squeezed out the excess and grabbed a towel from the shelves behind him. Filia reached up, aiding him in wrapping her hair up in it, turban-style, then shyly picked up the soap and brushed her hands over his chest, not quite meeting his eyes. Valgaav kept still as so not to startle her into stopping, watched her, entranced. He memorized everything; the pink tint to her cheeks, the way her pale lashes brushed against them as she kept her eyes cast down and away demurely, raising them only to watch her own soap-covered hands as they slid experimentally over his chest and shoulders, never traveling very far. Finally she stopped, her eyes flickering up to meet his for only half a heartbeat, then drew back slightly, her expression unsure, awkward, timid. Although he wouldn't have traded the moment for anything in creation, it unfortunately hadn't gone very far into getting him clean as well. But she was becoming so bashful and skittish, he dared not do anything more while she was still there. Valgaav grabbed for a second towel and leaned forward, kissing her cheek softly as he took her hand, pressing the towel to it, keeping it out of the tub. "Go on," he whispered. She quickly took it and, not caring that it dipped into the water, wrapped it securely around herself, getting out and not releasing the towel until she already had her robe closed, if still unfastened. Filia hung the sopping towel up to dry, and paused at the door before she opened it. "Thank you," she whispered, glancing back to him shyly with a tiny smile. The blush grew deeper momentarily, and she hastily left the room. |
to be continued...
Warning: Lemon in next chapter