I swallow, shake my head.
He nods his head, then he turns, grabs a coat that’s thrown over a chair that’s by him, and holds it up, shielding me from his line of sight.
I undo the rest of the buttons myself, fractionally disheartened, but when am I not with him? Then I peel the wet clothes off my body. They make another loud slap on his floor, and then he brings his coat around my shoulders, and I slip my arms inside.
He turns me around so I’m facing him, and he tugs the jacket closed over me like a robe. “Better?”
I nod, still shivering.
He puts a hand on each of my arms and starts trying to warm me up.
My teeth are chattering away, and Hook frowns at me.
He moves me back into the light. “Yer lips are blue.”
I frown a bit defensively. “I’m cold.”
“Broonie!” Jamison calls out to him. “Now, please. Quickly, come.”
His house fairy appears, looking about as grumpy as he did the last time I saw him.
“Yes, sir?” The brownie looks up at him.
Jamison clears his throat. “Please would ye run her a bath?”
“Yes, sir.” The brownie nods as he walks over towards the bath behind the partition. “Always baths here. No baths at home, filthy girl,” he mutters under his breath, and I catch Jem’s eye and, through my chattering, smile, rather amused.
Jem’s eyes go wide with embarrassment. “Broonie!” he calls after him.
“Sorry, sir,” the brownie calls back but doesn’t sound all that sorry at all.
Jamison breathes out a laugh and then wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly against him, and within seconds, the shivering stops.
“Th-thank you,” I whisper, my voice a bit raspy.
He nods, slowly lowering his chin to rest on top of my head. “O’ course.”
I’ve had his hands on my waist and his hands on my face, but not this. It’s my favourite feeling I’ve ever had in the world, his arms all the way around me.
“You’re a very good friend,” I say, all muffled into his chest.
It comes out more wry than I mean it to, and a hot worry flashes through me that it gives me away, that being his friend isn’t what I want.
He presses his mouth into the top of my head. “Or a shite one.”
I shift in his arms and look up at him.
Our eyes catch.
“Bath’s ready,” says the brownie.
Jamison breathes out, and it sounds dangerously close to a sigh.
His hold on me lags for a few seconds before he releases me, and I follow the brownie over to the bath behind the screen.
I slip into it, and the brownie carries away the coat, giving me an impatient look as he does.
“Better?” Jamison calls after a minute.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good,” he says, and I hear him pull out a seat at his table.
“I saw your mother at the ball,” I tell him, just to make conversation.
“Aye, she told me,” he says back.
“Oh.” I sink lower into the bath and swallow nervously. “Did she tell you anything else?”
“Aye.” He sniffs. “She said a great many things.”
“I see.” I frown at my fingernails.
It hangs there for a minute, a peculiar awkwardness.
“Did my ma say anything to ye?”
I clear my throat. “What about?”
“About…anything?” he says casually, drumming his hands on something. “About me?”
I purse my lips. “Not with her words.”
He sniffs a laugh, and I swallow heavy.
“Jem?”
“Aye?”
“Will you come and sit with me?” I ask.
He says nothing for about two seconds, which mightn’t sound like much, but in context of the question asked, it really does feel like a tiny little eternity.
“There are bubbles,” I add quickly to save what stupid face I have left. “You can’t see anything.”
Again, there’s a pause, and I wonder whether he’d notice if I just drowned myself in his bathtub.
“Would ye min’ clearing off the bubbles then?”
I freeze and my eyes go wide, and without meaning to, I say nothing.
“A’m joking.”
I breathe out, which somehow, miraculously, sounds like a small laugh, but really, I’m just breathing. Barely.
I hear him approaching. He stops on the other side of the divide.
“Decent?”
I look down at myself, fully naked in his bath.
Not remotely. Always not remotely with him apparently.