117 The wine from last year (3)

Alexander sighs again, and he pecks my forehead.

«Are you pretending or did you really forget?» he inquires. He would have wiped away my tears if his arms weren't busy carrying me.

We walk inside the central hut, and he leans me on a table.

«Warm water, some clean fabric and aquavit,» he orders a woman passing by. She bows her head and runs away with haste.

Oh, aquavit? What for?

At first, my Duke cleans my hands with the water. He wipes them carefully, while I just observe his expression in a daze. He's so distracting that I almost don't notice when he's done.

The second phase of the treatment is painful.

My Duke takes the aquavit and pours it all over my wounded hands with no mercy.

«It hurts,» I point out.

«Bear with it,» he sighs.

«Why are you punishing this Duchess, hubby?» I ask, crying anew.

I thought he was going to take care of me, yet he's disciplining me for something I don't know.