Snowy Hills
My mind constantly wandered back to Aimon's handsome face as I pulled my dress on that afternoon. His big gray eyes, shiny black hair, and smooth olive skin made me feel warm all over. The few times we were outside, I noticed his eyes reflected the color of the sky and snow. Sometimes his irises looked more blue than gray, and sometimes they were almost silver. Aimon had expertly repaired the damage my dress received during my frantic escape into the woods. I had enjoyed being naked for the last three days, only wrapped in furs or Aimon's arms for warmth. It was time for me to show Aimon the results of his excellent care.
He wasn't giving me much choice about it. He had pushed the door rope into the cabin, fully expecting me to unlock it and let him in when he returned from hunting. I would have to make myself walk like he requested. He was adorably clever in little ways like that. You could see his mind at work by how the cabin was kept. Even the build of the cabin reflected a sharp mind. The windows were placed to optimize natural light from the east, south, and west. The clothing nook was next to the fireplace, allowing the warm stones to dry snow or rain-spattered garments. An enclosed stone box was built next to the fireplace for baking bread.
The most interesting thing I had noticed was the large iron pot in the kitchen that had water slowly dripping into it. Snow would melt off the roof and drip into a canal carved from an oak branch. The little canal led outside to catch dripping water from the roof's corner before delivering it into the pot. There was almost always enough water in it for cooking and drinking. Aimon rarely had to carry water up from the meadow stream.
I was eager to explore Aimon's home as I scooted to the edge of the bed and lowered my feet to the floor. I carefully flexed my injured leg until the pain stopped me. The muscles were stiff and sore below my knee, but some strength had returned. Aimon had carved a branch into a crutch and left it next to the bed. Gathering my strength, the crutch helped me pull myself up and keep my balance. With extreme caution, I slowly put weight on the injured leg. Throbbing pain stole my breath for an instant, forcing me to hold still. After a few minutes of deep breathing, the pain eased enough for me to hobble around the cabin.
Exploration of the kitchen came first. There was a bag of flour sitting high on a shelf with a Hartwell label on it. Hartwell was the biggest town within a two day's ride of my father's estate. Aimon was either making trips there himself or trading with a local. Aimon had a horse. The beautiful brown mare could easily be seen in the southern meadow. There was a small storage shed with a stall behind the cabin for the horse to shelter in. A small chicken coop sat next to it.
Exhaustion crept over me as I finished examining Aimon's weapon corner by the door. I had accomplished my most important goal for that day, and it was time to rest. Overdoing it could be just as bad as doing nothing at all. Sleep found me quickly after making myself comfortable on the bed. A light knock on the door woke me close to sunset. My heart leaped at the thought of greeting Aimon. I hurried out of bed, carefully pulled myself up with the crutch, and hobbled over to the door. Peering through the rope hole, handsome blue-gray eyes greeted mine. I pulled the plank out of its cradle and pushed the door open with a smile.
Aimon had already removed his scarf and hood as he stepped into the house and embraced me. Our lips met an instant later, and a rush of heat flowed throughout my body despite the cold from the open door. I groaned and shivered in delight to taste his mouth again. He thought I was shivering from the cold and quickly reached back to close the door. I released him from the kiss long enough for him to lock us in, then I immediately pulled him back into my arms.
We smothered each other with kisses as my crutch clattered to the floor. In the heat of the moment, I put too much weight on my leg, sending a sharp, shooting pain into my knee. I gasped and lost my strength. Aimon grabbed me before I fell. I leaned against him with my stomach churning. I absolutely hated being injured and unable to help with daily chores. Aimon carefully gathered me in his arms and carried me back to the bed. He helped me get comfortable as the churning in my stomach eased. I took a deep breath, wiped the tears from my eyes, and looked at him in defeat. The smile he gave me was full of pride as he stroked my hair and wiped another tear off my cheek.
"What's for supper?" I whispered.
He smiled big, raised his hands over his head, and used them to make antlers.
"Oh boy! Venison," I chuckled.
He nodded and kissed me again. His touch and smell chased off the rest of my discomfort. He drew away and returned my crutch to the bed before retrieving his skinning knife. Then he disappeared out the door again. It would take him a while to clean and prep the deer, so I allowed myself a short nap before supper.
The smell of fried deer steak and onions woke me. I groaned at the heavenly scent. Aimon was kneeling by the fire with his cast-iron skillet and a fork, cooking the steaks to perfection. He looked over and smiled to see me awake. He beckoned me to the table as he began setting the food on it. The crutch aided me over to a chair. The prospect of eating at the supper table with Aimon was exciting. We sat close to each other and devoured the delicious feast of deer steak, pan-fried potatoes, and onions. I had brought the writing tray and chalk with me so we could converse after eating.
"Mmm, this is perfect, Aimon. Thank you," I mumbled with my mouth full.
He blushed and nodded as he watched me clean my tin plate. I noticed him reach up and rub his arm with a look of pain on his face as he finished his potatoes. There was something lumpy under his shirt sleeve that caught my attention. I reached up and felt it, and he quickly pulled his arm away.
"Aimon, is that a bandage on your arm? Are you hurt?" I demanded.
He looked at me guiltily and nodded. Gasping, I immediately began pulling his shirt up, forcing him to remove it. He made a breathy sound of pain as he raised his arms to pull his shirt over his head. There was a fresh linen bandage tied around his bicep. A small amount of blood was beginning to seep through it.
"What happened?" I demanded.
I reached up to untie the bandage so I could see the wound. Aimon shooed my hands away, shaking his head. He grabbed the writing tray and scribbled a note. My heart lurched at what he wrote.
"Cherokee arrow!" I read in horror.
"It's not that bad," he quickly wrote. "I chased the stag into their settlement."
My heart was pounding as I searched his pale eyes. I had assumed we were far enough south to avoid the natives.
"How far north are we?"
Aimon sighed, wiped the tray with his hand, and started a new note.
"We're on the edge of their hunting land. They're my friends," he wrote.
"Friends? They shot you!" I half yelled with tears growing in my eyes.
He quickly began writing again.
"They pick on me because their women like me," he wrote with a blush brightening his cheeks.
Despite my horror, I laughed at that revelation because I knew it was true. Aimon's smoky gray eyes could cast a spell over anybody. He smiled at my reaction. Then he wiped the tray and wrote another note.
"Their women leave gifts at my door sometimes. The Cherokee keep us safe. Don't think badly of them," he wrote before he looked at me.
My terror had lessened by that point. If Aimon trusted them, then I would too, but the stories my father's rifleman told me about the natives didn't help my anxiety.
"I'm not happy that they shot you, but I won't hold it against them as long as they leave us alone. How do they keep us safe?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.
Aimon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stared out the kitchen window for a moment, then he erased the tray and wrote another note.
"They keep my kinsmen away," I read with my heart in my throat. "You have enemies?"
He nodded as he reached up and touched the scar on his throat. The pain in his expression broke my heart and brought tears to my eyes. I could tell when he was thinking about something from his past. He would get very still, and his breathing would grow shallow. It was a nervous response to something that scared him. I quickly wiped tears from my eyes before I embraced him and kissed his face.
"I understand. We don't have to talk about it now, but I would like to know the story soon."
He nodded as he squeezed me in return and let his tears drip on my neck. It scared me to know how much he feared his kinsmen, but it didn't surprise me. It would take a monster to mark someone up the way they marked up Aimon. Whoever hurt him had obviously been trying to kill him.
Aimon took a deep breath and drew away from me so he could see my face. We stared at each other for a moment. It was a comfort being close to him, and I knew he felt the same way about me. I was useless in a lot of ways until my leg healed, but I could easily and happily shower him with as much bodily affection as he could handle. I stroked his cheek and felt the stubble on his jawline. He slept the morning away with me and didn't shave before hunting.
"Aimon, why do you shave every morning? I don't care if you have a beard or not."
I ran my fingernails over the black stubble, imagining what he would look like with a full beard. He smiled and sighed as he picked up the tray again.
"Grew it out last spring. Natives almost shot me. They didn't recognize me," he wrote.
