Free Once Upon a Romance 02 - As The Last Petal Falls by Jessica Woodard Page B

clean as she was likely to get without a real bath, Connelly fitted her for a simple cloth sling, to cradle her arm while she moved about. Then he patted her cheek and moved to the door.
    “’tis time I got back ta my still room; I need ta replace my supply o’ prepared teas for fevers. MacTíre can help ye get ready ta face the others, an’ then bring ye down ta the kitchen ta meet them. I’ll see ye there.” And with that he slipped from the room.
    Fain cleared his throat. “Well, Belle, I’ve a leather pair of knee breeches that I think will fit you fair enough. Shall we get you dressed?”

    Fain had almost grown used to ignoring his body’s intense responses to the lass. Over their days together she had grown careless of her state of dress, and frequently would flash him a large expanse of leg or arm, or would thoughtlessly bend and pull his shirt tight over her breasts or backside. He supposed it was to be expected—she could hardly sit primly for days while recovering—but it had taken him some time to get used to the constant state of arousal he was suffering.
    His change in emotion was harder for him to deal with. Once she had lost her petulant attitude, he found her, quite frankly, charming. She had a lively wit and a gift for pretense, and several times had told him a story of her “life as a lady of leisure” that left him in stitches. Her mimicry of the nobility, not to mention her portrayals of the royal family, were devilishly funny. He was growing fond of the lying little lass, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. She frequently caught him off guard with a smile or a laugh, but at least he was used to the impact her sheer physical presence had on him, now.
    At least, he thought he was. Now that he was faced with trying to get her bottom half into a pair of breeches, he wasn’t so sure.
    “I don’t think I can pull those up one handed.” She sounded doubtful, and Fain didn’t blame her.
    “I know, beauty, but if they’re loose enough for you to pull up one handed, you’re going to have a difficult time
keeping
them up. I’ll help you get them on, and then you’ll be decent.”
    She looked doubtful, but shrugged. “How shall we start?”
    He thought for a moment. “Let’s slip them on while you sit there, and then you can stand up and I’ll pull them up and tie them.” He spoke casually, and she wiggled over to the edge of the bed and trustingly stuck her feet out towards him.
    The breeches went easily enough over her feet and ankles, though when he started to glide them up her calves she began giggling. “I’m sorry, it tickles. I’ve always had to put my own stockings on; I can’t let my maid do it or I end up laughing.”
    He raised one eyebrow at her. “Are you ticklish everywhere?”
    “Everywhere I’ve checked.” She grinned at him. “But if you think to attack my feet, be warned, I tend to kick.”
    “I wouldn’t dare. I’ve seen your accuracy with a pillow; I think your foot would do a lot more damage. There, now stand up.” He held the breeches steady while she slid off the edge of the bed, working them up until they were almost to the top of her thighs.
    “They’re stuck.” She sounded amused.
    “They’re not stuck, they’ve just… encountered an obstacle.” A round, well-shaped, lovely, firm obstacle. “Turn around, I need to pull from the back.”
    Belle turned around, and Fain gritted his teeth and slid the breeches up. He tried not to think about the soft skin that his thumbs were gliding over; tried not to look at the little strip of flesh that showed between the waistband of the breeches and the tail of the shirt; tried not to hear her giggles as his light touches tickled her. He tried to keep his fingers from shaking as he reached around her to fasten the laces, but he couldn’t help but notice when she abruptly stopped giggling and leaned just slightly back, so that he was holding her in his arms while he tied the breeches closed. He managed