Needs Must

He thought he'd been successful.

He thought he'd managed to hide the stabbing pain in his knee this evening. He was sure Anna didn't know about the near tumble he'd had earlier when he'd caught his toe on a hat box in His Lordship's dressing room that had been shifted by a cleaning maid and not placed back in its place. His knee had throbbed the rest of the day as he'd tried to keep up his usual pace. He hadn't leaned on his cane any more than usual. He should have been able to avoid any fussing over it and the inevitable embarrassment over his clumsiness.

He thought he'd been successful.

He was quite wrong.

As he sat in the chair near the fire with his legs stretched out, so very grateful to be off of his feet, he contemplated getting up and heading slowly up the stairs before Anna came out of the kitchen. If he could do that, she need never know. He listened to her running the tap and humming over something and felt a stab of bitter disappointment that his frailties made him consider spending less of their precious time together.

"Anna," he called, trying to make his voice sound less heavy than his mood, "I'm going on up."

"I'll be right out!" she answered. He could hear the clang of the kettle and liquid pouring.

"I don't think I'll have any tea tonight, love," he called, trying to lever himself out of the chair without putting too much weight on his bad leg.

Her head popped around the corner and she gave him an exasperated look.

"I'll only be a moment, John," she said.

And in less than a moment, she was striding out of the kitchen, a steaming basin of very hot water and an armful of flannels in her hands. He hadn't managed to get himself up all the way and dropped back into the chair, hiding the grimace of pain.

But not hiding it enough. Anna bent over gracefully and placed the basin down on the floor next to the chair. Then she stood and crossed her arms over her chest giving him a stern look.

"You weren't going to go off without soaking your knee?" she asked rhetorically. "Of course you weren't."

"Anna, I'm fine," he said, trying to smile at her. She didn't smile back.

"Take them off," she ordered, pointing to his trousers. He stared at her while she dipped a flannel into the basin and wrung it out. "Take them off, or I will," she threatened with a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth.

For a moment, John considered calling her bluff. But there was something in the glint of her eye that made him wonder if she was actually bluffing. He didn't relish a wrestling match in the armchair…at least not tonight.

"Really, Anna, I'm fine," he tried to reassure her. If the stubborn glint in her eye was any indication, it was a wasted effort.

She didn't waste time arguing with him. Instead, she moved between his legs and began unbuttoning his waistcoat, slipping it and his coat off over his shoulders.

"Lean forward," she said, nudging him. He cooperated, leaning forward so that she could take them completely off. She stroked his shoulders and ran her hands down his arms slowly. Her neck was enticingly close to his face and he took advantage of that to kiss her gently behind the ear. She shivered, then straightened up and pushed him back against the chair, trying to look disapproving.

"You'll not distract me, Mr. Bates," she informed him, slipping her fingers under his suspenders and pushing them down his arms. As they fell off, he reached out and captured her hands in his.

"Maybe it's me who needs distracting," he said, pulling her closer.

She squeezed his hands gently, then pulled hers away.

"The water is going to get cold, John. Take off your trousers."

"But it's too cold in here," he protested.

"John, the fire is roaring," she replied with a laugh. "Now stop with your stalling and take them off so I can soak your knee while the water is hot."

Unwilling to let her see how swollen his knee was, he frowned as he tried to think of some way to dissuade his wife from her fussing. She ran her finger over his forehead, gently caressing the frown lines.

"I don't know what you did to strain your knee today, but I'd have to be blind not to notice how much you were trying to hide how much it hurts. You'll be spending the night on the settee if you don't let me see to it."

"You'd make me sleep on the settee?" he teased.

"Silly beggar," she replied with smile as she began undoing his trouser buttons. "You know better than that. You won't be able to make the walk up the stairs."

"My darling, if you were at the top of the stairs waiting for me, there isn't a force in the world that would keep me from walking up them."

"Then you'd better get those trousers off and let me see to your knee so that you won't have to wage a battle against all the forces in the world," she said tartly. But she couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face at words.

Heaving a sigh, John gave in and lifted his hips to slide his trousers down his legs. Anna pulled them the rest of the way off, removing his socks for good measure.

"You didn't need to take them all the way off to soak my knee," he protested, shivering a little.

"They won't get wet this way," she replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, I wanted them off." She looked sideways at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she rung out another flannel and placed it on his knee without any warning.

John hissed and rose up off the chair at the sudden wet heat on his knee. After the initial shock, the warmth immediately began to make his tendons and muscles relax.

"You naughty girl," he moaned as she began massaging his thigh just above his knee. "If you'd wanted them off, all you had to do was ask. All this fuss about my knee wasn't necessary."

"I did ask, and you gave me cheek about it," she replied, watching his face relax as she worked her fingers around his knee.

"You didn't ask the right way."

"And just how should I have asked, Mr. Bates?" she challenged.

"There are other things under my trousers besides my knee. Maybe if you'd expressed an interest in them…" She tried to look shocked, but the effect was spoiled by her giggle at his flirtatious tone.

He looked down at her kneeling on the floor beside his legs and ran his hand over her hair, still carefully twisted and styled from her day of work. She rung out another flannel and exchanged it for the one that had cooled.

"Why don't you go ahead and change for bed," he suggested. She turned a dubious eye on him and he smiled in return. "I promise I'll sit still and let the soak do its work."

"Promise?" she asked, getting to her feet with a little grimace, stiff from sitting on the floor.

He nodded and she dipped her head down to kiss him before heading for the stairs. She turned back at the bottom to give him an affectionate look.

John tipped his head back on the chair and tried to relax. His knee was swollen and more misshapen than usual, and he didn't want to look at it. It was still something of a miracle to him that Anna could simply view it as a part of him that needed occasional attention - attention she was always happy to pay, even if he was reluctant.

"I suppose needs must when the devil drives," he murmured. "Better then having a completely crippled husband."

The flannel was nearly cool by the time Anna returned to their sitting room. John watched her move briskly back and forth from the sitting room to the kitchen to refresh the water in the basin with new from the kettle, as well as bring him a cup of tea. Her dressing gown flowed as she moved, showing a rather lot of her legs. He followed her with his eyes, intrigued as to what the dressing gown was covering. When she retuned with the fresh water and began again with the hot compresses, he grinned at her.

"What is it?" she asked, flushing at his sudden close scrutiny. Not wanting to kneel on the floor again, she shifted the corner of the settee closer to his chair, giving him a tantalizing view down the front of her dressing gown.

"That's not your winter nightgown you've got on?" he asked, taking her hands as she sat and pulling her to the edge of the settee so that her legs were between his.

"And if it's not?"

She wouldn't look directly at him, but he could see the sly smile curling the corner of her lips. As she busied herself with adjusting the hot flannel on his knee, he slid his hands slowly over her knees.

"What is it then?" he asked, as his hands continued their slow journey up her thighs, pushing the dressing gown out of the way and catching on the hem of a short, silky gown, edged with black lace.

She made an annoyed huff, but her eyes twinkled as she caught his wrists with her hands. "It's incentive, Mr. Bates."

He looked at her in amused confusion, wondering when he'd ever required incentive to touch her. "Just being in the same room with you is enough incentive."

"That's not what I mean," she said with a laugh. She gripped his wrists tighter as he began caressing the skin under his hands and pulled in a sharp breath as his fingertips wiggled higher under the hem of her gown. He leaned forward and began pressing nipping, light kisses along her jaw.

"I mean it's incentive for you to let me tend your knee."

He pulled back in surprise and looked into her soft, caring eyes. She released one of his wrists and raised her hand to touch his cheek.

"I know how often you hide the pain you're in. And I know you'd rather I not have to tend to it…"

"Of course I'd rather you not have to tend to it, Anna. I'd much rather be whole man, but—"

She placed her finger firmly on his lips. "Stop, John. I've never seen you as less than a whole man. Never. And I love tending to your knee… Not that I'm ever glad it hurts," she hastened to clarify. He smiled under her finger and she ran it slowly across his lips. "But I love that I can care for you, that I can touch you. I love that you're mine, that we're each others—"

John abruptly pulled his hand free of her grip and placed both on her face, drawing her to him to capture her lips. As she pressed closer to him, the soft silk of her nightgown stroked across his knees and thighs, wringing a deep moan from his throat.

"I love that I can make you forget the pain for a bit," she gasped.

"What pain?" he muttered. He moved his hands down her shoulders and back, pushing her dressing gown off.

"John…John, wait…" she tried to get his attention, but found it difficult when she was just as distracted by what his hands were doing as he was.

He breathed her name and pulled her closer. She braced her hands on his chest and pushed gently. He pulled back, concerned, but was reassured by the smile on her face.

"The side of my nightgown is soaked from the flannel on your knee," she said with a laugh, "and I think you've dropped my dressing gown in the basin."

They both looked down to see her dressing gown laying half in the basin of rapidly cooling water. John released her with a sheepish expression and opened his mouth to apologize. But he stopped short when she looked at him with a wicked smile and pulled the damp nightgown over her head, revealing absolutely nothing under it.

"How does your knee feel, John?"

He couldn't seem to make his mouth work properly and the only sound that emerged was a low growl. Unable to answer her, he stood up abruptly and pulled her to her feet. As they stumbled towards the stairs together, it occurred to him in the tiny part of his mind that was still able to think that he might just want to redefine successful.

"Can you make it up the stairs," she gasped as his hands were everywhere at once.

"Needs must," he muttered into her neck.