Adela and Egon settled on the ground beside her bed.
"Take off your shirt, it is in the way,"
"Yes, My Lady," he muttered sarcastically, a hint of a smile adorning his well-formed lips.
Adela busied herself by dipping a clean cloth into warm water with her right hand, the ripples inside the basin mirroring the golden shades of the morning sun. It served as a distraction, allowing Egon a moment to undress.
"All done," he remarked needlessly.
Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Egon's bare muscular frame for the second time, the darkened blood stained his wide, long scars. These marks — etched permanently onto his skin — were constant reminders of the tragedy he had endured in the depths of Lanark's Forest.
Just how is he supposed to put the past behind him?