Chapter 15
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 15
Unaware that he had returned, Vanessa startled and hesitantly set the sketchbook down.
"I'm sorry for touching it without asking. I didn't mean to pry..."
As a well-bred lady, she naturally had no intention of snooping through someone’s private belongings. It was just that the charcoal and sketchbook had caught her eye. The fact that he had taken up drawing was fascinating—especially since the River Ross of her childhood had possessed absolutely no talent for art.
"You can look if you want."
"Really?"
"Not right now. Later. We have something to take care of first."
He set a wooden basin of hot water and a towel on the nightstand, then sat on the bed and patted the space beside him. Vanessa hesitantly perched on the very edge of the mattress. River rolled up his sleeves, wrung out the wet towel, and gently took her by the chin. A low chuckle escaped him when he saw her utterly flustered expression, her feelings plain on her face.
"Do something about those eyes. Stop glaring at me like that."
"I... I can do this myself."
"Your makeup is smudged. It's a mess."
A wave of mortification washed over her. Of all days, today was the one she had clumsily applied makeup, hoping to look a little prettier. Vanessa tried to push him away with all her might, but with her face held in his grip, she couldn't budge.
Her face flushed crimson all the way to her hairline as she stared up at River Ross.
"Let me go."
"Why?"
"This is... too embarrassing..."
"Aren't we a bit past the point of being embarrassed? We've already seen everything there is to see."
His dismissive tone made Vanessa's eyes narrow. To begin with, his claim that they had "seen everything" was highly misleading. At the very least, she had never seen River Ross naked.
But how could she argue? Am I supposed to demand he strip because I haven't seen his body? As she hesitated, unable to find the words, the wet towel touched her cheek. She blinked in surprise at the warm sensation as he spoke in a low, lazy drawl.
"Close your eyes."
Caught off guard, she obeyed. The warm, damp cloth gently wiped her cheeks, her forehead, and the nape of her neck. He used his thumb to slowly rub away the dirt smudged across the bridge of her nose.
A strange, ticklish sensation made her lean back. Tilting backward, she eventually sank onto the mattress. River plucked a stray leaf from her disheveled golden hair. Then, climbing onto the bed, he leaned over her.
His large, broad hand stroked her damp cheek. Vanessa stared up at him, lost in a daze, until his hand gripped her calf, snapping her back to reality.
"W-wait. I can... I can really wash myself."
"There are no mirrors here, and you're covered in dirt in places you can't reach."
Vanessa blinked her pale gray eyes.
"Am I really that dirty?"
"Enough for anyone to tell we fucked in the garden. Your hair is a mess, too."
The scent of his cologne drifted over her, mingling with his own clean, natural scent. The moment she became aware of it, heat rushed through her body again. As she shivered, River tightened his grip on her waist.
"Don't waste your energy. You don't have the strength to lift a finger."
After a few half-hearted attempts to push his shoulders, Vanessa gave up her futile resistance. He was right. She didn't have the strength to push him away, let alone stop him. In truth, she just wanted to lie there and do nothing at all.
Having him tend to her every need was terrible for her peace of mind, but physically, it was incredibly comfortable.
His touch was surprisingly gentle for a soldier as he wiped the dirt from her skin. Vanessa quietly studied his serious face. She wondered if he intended to see this through. Even with her complete lack of experience with men, she knew that what had happened in the garden wasn't the end of it.
"Vanessa."
"Yes?"
"Just ask. What is it you're so curious about?"
He hadn't looked at her once, yet he had somehow sensed her stealing glances. She had been the one watching him, but now she felt like the one being scrutinized. Speechless for a moment, Vanessa decided to be honest.
"It's just... what you said earlier."
"What did I say?"
"That we... you know, in the garden."
"And?"
"Strictly speaking, we didn't actually... do it."
"Did you want me to use a passed-out woman to satisfy my urges?"
"W-well, strictly speaking, I didn't actually pass out..."
"You were trembling like a leaf and then went completely limp. What else was I supposed to think?"
"..."
"Though I'm flattered you found my fingers so delicious."
As he spoke, the damp cloth slipped beneath her skirt. Vanessa bit her lip. His crude words were one thing, but the rough texture of the towel pressing firmly against her inner thighs was another.
River easily pinned her down as she squirmed, his hand sliding even deeper. She was astounded by how utterly calm his expression remained, even as his hand swept beneath her skirt. Vanessa bit her lip hard. It was obvious how he would look at her if she let out a moan. He would think she was completely sex-crazed. Or perhaps he already did.
"Ngh."
Vanessa gasped, barely swallowing the heat rising within her. At this rate, she was no different from an animal in heat. A mere brush of his skin was enough to make her react like this.
Fortunately, the agonizing ordeal was over quickly. After meticulously wiping away the last traces of grime from her calves, he pulled his hand back with a casual indifference that left her feeling slightly dazed.
"Rest. Don't move."
Gathering the basin and towel, River stood up. The sound of his receding footsteps suggested he was going to empty the dirty water.
He was treating her like an invalid.
It was mildly annoying, yet comfortable. Besides, she didn't feel that unwell today. Vanessa stretched, sinking into the plush mattress.
River was taking his time. Drowsiness began to creep over her. After staring blankly at the ceiling for a while, Vanessa bolted upright. If she stayed like this, she would fall fast asleep.
She clumsily fastened the buttons of her disheveled blouse and smoothed out her wrinkled skirt as best she could. Her tangled hair was a lost cause, so she simply ran her fingers through it. She wished she had a mirror. Vanessa gathered her hair, looked around the room, and then gave up, letting her hands fall to her sides.
She only remembered the sketchbook when River returned. He must have washed up; droplets of water clung to his neck and dark hair.
"Want one?"
He placed a lukewarm One-Pins Beer Bottle on the desk. A faint scent of sandalwood drifted from him. The more she observed him, the more of an enigma he became. His cologne, the Naval Officer's Watch tossed carelessly aside, and his fountain pen were all visibly expensive, yet the things he chose to drink and smoke were of the cheapest quality.
Perhaps the Duke of Battenberg treated his warrant officer with exceptional generosity. Or maybe he wasn't living beyond his means, but rather received frequent gifts from noble ladies. With his looks, anything was possible. Vanessa shook her head, clearing her thoughts.
"No, thank you. It would be trouble if I went back smelling of alcohol."
"You've come of age."
"That's true, but... not today. More importantly, can I really look at this?"
When she asked with wide, curious eyes, River gave a brief nod. Feeling a flutter of excitement, Vanessa untied the string binding the book. A small lantern illuminated the warehouse, which had begun to grow dark.
A soft gasp of admiration escaped her lips the moment she turned the first page. It was a seabird with a beautiful, long tail. The wings and feathers were rendered with such lifelike detail that it looked ready to take flight, its beak parted and its legs outstretched. The stark contrast of light and shadow, created by smudging the rough charcoal lines, was captivating. Even to her untrained eye, it was magnificent.
Careful not to smudge the charcoal, she turned the page. The paper, yellowed and weathered by the sea breeze, was filled with all kinds of sketches: an octopus crawling between rocks, a whale breaching the surface of the water, and bizarre deep-sea fish she had never seen before. A shark baring dozens of razor-sharp teeth was drawn with such raw intensity that it felt as if it might tear through the paper and lunge at her.
There were sketches of sailors hauling anchor ropes and tending to cannons, and of dark, ominous skies threatening an impending storm. Vanessa quickly flipped past the pages depicting the bare, muscular bodies of the crewmen.
As she continued, the subjects drew closer to land: a bustling port, a man waiting for a train, an old woman sewing, a mother cradling her child, servants lighting tobacco. She even spotted a sketch of Gardener Ross digging in the earth. And on the very last page...
Who is this?
There were only a few sparse lines, as if he had started to sketch someone's profile and then stopped.