She balanced herself by sitting quickly on the side of the small bed, and with a careful movement, she began to soak a clean rag into the bowl of water, squeezed it, and brought it to his pale face to begin wiping off the remnant of the blood the rain did not wash away.
She slowly let her hand glide over every perfect angle of his serene-looking face, as if she were trying to memorize each contour. He looked so fragile lying on the bed, with only the blanket covering his body, as she had removed all of his clothes. He was completely naked beneath the blanket.
Despite the circumstances, Belle felt heat rush to her cheeks for the first time in days, a familiar sensation she hadn't realized she missed until the surge of warmth overwhelmed her body. She no longer cared about modesty as she did in the past, he was her husband, and she had every right. She had stripped him bare and tenderly wiped his body, shamelessly admiring the form she had never truly had the chance to study before.
