Rhiannon stood alone in the hallway, listening to the low murmur of the patrons downstairs in the Inn having their food and their ale. Were they talking about her? Did they know who she was? She was being paranoid, but she could never escape the feeling people were staring at her. Judging her.

After going to talk to the innkeeper, she had come back upstairs, and now she had paused outside the door of their rented room. Listening. Waiting. Wanting to know if someone would shout out her name. Being around crowds brought out her fears, and every fibre of her being hummed in anxious energy. Fearing the inevitable outcry if anyone recognised her.

Wanting to escape the strangers below, she put her hand on the door handle, but she couldn't quite bring herself to enter. Not yet. Her face flushed hotly, remembering the accidental brush of her hand against the knight. It had been a long time since she'd been near a man in such a state. The swamp wasn't exactly crawling with handsome strangers, and she wasn't willing to get a reputation in the nearby village. Her current one was enough as it was. The Swamp Witch. She didn't need to be The Swamp Harlot as well. It had been even longer since she'd been near a man as handsome as this one.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. It took a lot of self-control to appear as unaffected as she did. She opened the door and found Sir Baudwin still on the second bed, his legs off the side. He'd lain down but sat back up as she entered. When he was about to stand, she shook her head. The man really did have more honour than sense. Somehow, this knowledge made her relax. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders.

"I've ordered us supper and a bath," she said as she closed the door behind her. "You will need to wash off that ointment later. Once it's dried and starts cracking."

He nodded slowly, watching her as she moved to her bed to put her pouches and vials back in the knapsack. She would need to get some more herbs and ingredients soon. Maybe she'd take the opportunity while in Breoch to get some of the ones local to the region that were usually difficult to get hold of from the swamp. She missed her swamp, but she was realising that she could never return. If her parents had tracked her down there, others could too.

"Where did you learn to use those?" Sir Baudwin asked, motioning towards the small stack on the sheets. "Are you a witch like they say?"

Glancing up at him, it didn't look like he was judging her. His hazel eyes were watching with interest and the shadow of a smile was playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Why? Are you worried that I will turn you into a frog?"

"Only if it means I'd have to live in that stinky swamp." He chuckled. It was a warm, comforting sound that enveloped her like a warm blanket. She didn't like it. Didn't want to feel comforted. Didn't want to feel secure in anyone's presence. Unaware of her chaotic thoughts, he continued, "I didn't think that was in the purview of witches, anyway."

"I don't think it is," she admitted. "But no, I am not a witch. I just happen to know a fair bit about herbs and plants and their abilities. The locals decided I was a witch, and I didn't bother correcting them."

"It does have a nice ring to it. The Swamp Witch." He was grinning now. It lit up his usually sombre face.

"I always liked it. Great deterrent." She sat down on her bed. "You seem to be in a good mood."

His smile faded as he nodded towards his leg. The ointment was drying, its colour turning from puce to dark brown. "Thank you for this," he said. "This is the least pain I've felt in years."

"It was no trouble." She would never admit that it had felt nice to touch another human being again. Having struggled while trapped between his arms during the ride was one thing, when she was in control... It was different. "There are some concoctions that could help you with the pain even better. I don't have the right ingredients, but if I find them, I could make you some. Or give you a recipe so that someone can help you make it. Maybe a decent apothecary back where you live."

"Thank you and..." He fell silent and she could see a flush creeping up along his neck. "I'm sorry about—"

"No need to apologise." Neither of them needed to be reminded of that. She pretended to busy herself with putting the last things back in the knapsack. He remained silent, rubbing his good leg with his hand, looking somewhat comical sitting there with his bare legs.

She pressed her lips together. She was warming up to Sir Baudwin. Not something she could allow herself to do. Remaining ever vigilant was important. She could not let her guard down. At least they were near her old home. She'd be rid of him soon. Rid of all of them as she disappeared again. This time she'd have to take more care to make sure no one found her.

A knock sounded on the door, and she was grateful for the interruption. A maid brought their supper, and another brought in a wooden tub. Sir Baudwin carefully arranged his breeches over his lap as they left and came back with jugs of hot water. Once the tub was filled they disappeared again.

"Let's eat." Rhiannon motioned to the simple meal placed on her bed as the only table was the one with the washbowl. "Then you can take a bath and remove the ointment."

"Don't you want a bath?" he asked as she handed him his bowl and a spoon to spare him moving.

"I can wait." She'd had one at the last inn, and she didn't want to force him out of the room yet.

They ate in silence and she focused on her food, not wanting to pay too much attention to the handsome knight. It didn't take long before her eyes strayed as if of their own volition.

He was finishing the last of his soup by scooping it up with a piece of bread. She liked the unruly chestnut-brown hair and the short beard. His breeches were back on the bed, and she noticed that the ointment was peeling and cracking. Good, it had done its job. His right leg wasn't a pretty sight, thinner than the other as it didn't get as much use, but it didn't bother her. The scars and damaged tissue bore witness of a life saved. He had sacrificed himself to save another man. It was admirable, if stupid. He was a stupid, honourable man.

Why had he done that? Risking his life for another? 'A tower toppled over...' She frowned. Surely a lot of buildings had fallen over in Messina during the battle. Yet... She looked at him again, then shook her head. No, the Gods weren't that cruel.

Sir Baudwin put his bowl at the bottom of the bed where she collected it and put it out in the hallway together with her own. Turning back to him, she nodded towards the tub. "You should get in the bath before it goes cold."

"Thank you." He got up and limped over to the tub, while she stood rooted in the spot just inside the door. She ought to leave, but she didn't want to. Didn't want to go out there to the stares and whispers. No one should know who she was, and yet she felt as if everyone stared.

Tapping her fingers thoughtfully against the smooth wood of the closed door, she watched as Sir Baudwin pulled off his dark green tunic. He hesitated before removing anything else, and she nodded her assent. She was no shrinking violet, offended by a man's bare chest. The polite thing to do would be to give him some privacy and leave, but she still couldn't bring herself to do it. When he pulled the white shirt over his head and tossed it on his bed, leaving was the last thing on her mind.

It wasn't as if she never saw men without their shirts on. Occasionally, a villager needed help with a rash, a broken rib or collar bone. But they didn't look like this. Muscles rippled under smooth skin as Sir Baudwin stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders. Somehow, his shoulders looked even wider with no clothes on. A patch of dark hair covered a broad chest, pausing at the flat stomach, only to pick back up below the bellybutton in a line leading down into his underwear. Which he was, thankfully, still wearing.

Why wasn't he stepping into the tub? It took her addled brain another moment to realise he had left his cane by the bed and would struggle to support his weight on the bad leg. Walking over to him, she offered her arm, and he smiled gratefully as he took it and stepped into the tub. She supported him as he sat down, and he sighed as the warm water enveloped him. Or some of him. He was much too tall for the small wooden tub.

Finding a rag that had been brought in, she kneeled next to the tub and dunked the cloth in the water. Sir Baudwin's eyes widened, and he stared at her in shock.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll help you get the ointment off." It was an excuse. She wanted to touch him. Soon she would disappear from the world again. Was it too bad of her to want to enjoy a little of life before she did?

He raised a dark eyebrow. "You do know my hands and arms work perfectly well?"

"I'm aware." She used the cloth to clear off some of the stale ointment from the part of his leg that was still dry. He had to sit with his knees pulled up to fit in the tub, leaving knees and parts of his legs above water. Then she dipped her hands below the surface, following the length of his thigh. He was quiet now, and she enjoyed having this effect on him. A big, muscular knight, all pliant in her hands. Yielding to her will the way herbs did when combined in the right amounts into a potion.

The water slowly turned puce as she wiped away more and more of the dried ointment. When her hand slid a little too close to a certain area, she noticed with wry amusement that Sir Baudwin held his breath. She wasn't quite that forward, but a part of her wished she had an excuse to help clean his chest. She wouldn't mind raking her fingernails over those muscles. By the Gods! Have I lost all reason?

Needing to put some distance between herself and the knight, she quickly finished up and walked over to her bed, leaving him to clean the rest himself. She absently moved her knapsack off the bed and pulled the covers down. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been attracted to a man. No, that was a lie. She could. But she preferred not to think about it. Her judgement left a lot to be desired where men were concerned.

"I hate to bother you again, but..." Sir Baudwin flashed her an apologetic grin, having finished washing off.

"Not at all", she mumbled and went back over to him to help him out of the tub. She did her best to ignore the beads of water trickling down his flat chest as she handed him a towel. Why was he so concerned about his bad leg? Everything else more than made up for it.

She left him by his bed to get ready for the night. It was a simple routine of cleaning her teeth and quickly brushing her hair.

"You don't need to leave," she said as she pulled the brush through her hair. "It seems unfair to let you sleep in the carriage when we have two separate beds."

He looked back at her, his eyebrows raised. "Are you sure?" he asked, pulling some fresh clothes from his bag. "I know it's not proper."

She flashed a quick grin. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

"Deal." He looked at her as he was holding his clothes and she turned around to allow him some privacy to change out of his wet underwear.

She may have peeked. Just a little. She wasn't not impressed.

~~~~~~