333: You Have To Remove Your Clothes.

You Have To Remove Your Clothes.

Neil and Damien, though worried for Oriana, obeyed the prince's orders. As soon as they were gone, Arlan dampened the cloth with water and began to wipe her clean, beginning with her injured right hand.  1

"Your Highness—"

"Imbert will be back soon with women to help you for the rest."

Oriana closed her eyes in resignation and simply hummed. 

Someone knocked on the door. "Your Highness, it's me."

"Come in."

Arlan looked at Imbert's expressionless face.

"There are no women around. The elderly, women and children were prioritized during the evacuation, and all that remained in the town were men. According to the innkeeper, we can find women in the next village which would normally take around two hours to reach by horse, but due to the flood, it will take a horse double the time. It will also be difficult for the carriage to take the muddy road."

Even if Arlan ordered his knights to fetch one woman from that village, their horses were exhausted. Those animals might die if they push them further. Also, Oriana was not in a situation to travel anymore. It was best to deal with her infected wounds as soon as possible.

"Ask Neil to prepare herbal paste to apply on the wound. Get bandages as well as another basin of clean water."

Imbert nodded. Just as he reached the door, he heard Arlan's last instruction. "Do not let anyone enter the room."

Oriana heard this and opened her heavy eyes to look at him. He looked back at her. "You heard what he said. There are no women around. I will tend to your injuries."

She shook her head and tried to sit up, but the sudden movement caused the pain she was feeling to intensify. She fell back with a frustrated groan. 

"Do not move," he said, only to hear her refusal. 

"I can treat myself. Your Highness, can you please help me up? And my luggage, can you—"

"No."

Though she tried to sound tough, the cold sweat on her face and her trembling body gave away how much pain she was in. 

"You cannot even sit on your own and you talk about treating yourself. Though I am not a physician, I know you can't lift your left shoulder and you cannot use your right hand. How are you going to treat yourself? Also, you have injuries on your back. How do you plan to reach them?"

"I'm fine."

"I will be the judge of that."

Oriana pursed her lips and looked unwilling to let him treat her. 

Arlan wordlessly glared at her. It's not the first time he would be touching her body. Her reluctance was unpleasant—no, annoying.

He placed the wet cloth back on the basin and stood up. "Shall I send Neil to tend to your injuries? Or do you want me to call Damien? As they are your friends, you should feel more comfortable with them."

Arlan did not mean what he was saying, but he was angry. He knew she would only relent when she realized she had no other option.

"You can't!" she panicked. "Please, don't. They don't know I am a woman."

"And I do," Arlan spoke, his gaze boring holes into her. 

Oriana had no choice but to quietly accept defeat. She was tired and in pain and she knew she needed help. She could no longer reject the prince.

Arlan looked at her lowered face, no words needed to be said out loud. He removed his coat and threw it on the chair. Rolling his white shirt's sleeves up to his elbows, he walked back towards the basin of water and picked it up. Oriana soon felt the bed sink and found the blue-eyed man sitting next to her at the edge of the bed. 

He picked up that wet cloth and wrung it dry before meeting her gaze. 

"Raise your head," he ordered.

Oriana hesitantly raised her head. He looked calm as always, his handsome face carrying no emotion, causing her to guess what he was thinking. 

His gaze was busy observing the scratches on her pretty face. Despite his expression, his touch was gentle. He dabbed the wet cloth across her face like he was wiping the most fragile porcelain, carefully removing the mud and blood traces from her wounds. 

Though cleaning those tiny scratches stung, she didn't dare make a sound. She pressed her lips into a thin line, closing her eyes only whenever the cloth neared her eyes. The rest of the time, she kept  her gaze fixed on his handsome face, the solemnity of his expression almost causing the corners of her lips to lift.

'That serious look, that level of concentration, one would think he's figuring out a complex problem.'

His gaze shifted to her eyes, but there was no change in his gaze and he just resumed his work. Oriana felt exposed under his gaze, and she averted her eyes, focusing on his shirt. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by the sound of water dripping from the cloth every time he rinsed it. 

The awkward atmosphere was lifted the moment Neil knocked, Getting Arlan's permission, he entered the room, bringing with him the items that the prince ordered for him to gather. He silently placed the second basin of clean water, along with the bandages and the herbal paste on the only table inside the room, before departing without a word or a glance towards the bed.

Arlan resumed work as soon as Neil was gone. Once he made sure her face was clean, he rinsed the cloth with water once more and placed it aside. His wet hands moved towards her neck. To be more precise, her collar. She instinctively dodged his hand, causing him to frown.

"You have to remove your clothes."

"I-I can't."

"Why not? Because you're a woman?"

She had no response.

"Your clothes are dirty and ruined. To treat your injuries, you need to have your injuries cleaned. Do you think I will do anything improper to you?"

"That's not what I—" 

"You are a physician and you are used to seeing people's bodies when you treat them. Do you get improper thoughts when tending to your patients?"

She shook her head in response.

"Take me as a physician treating you," he remarked. "I have no other intentions as well."

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