It was an old hangar, where his father had kept his old aeroplane. The aeroplane itself wasn’t working, but his father had a soft spot for it. The place was huge, but it was also unbelievably empty. As children they had sneaked into it whenever they could, but as a young lady Emmaline hardly ever set her eyes on it anymore. She quickly glanced at Henry, and the latter only gave her a half smile.

A musty smell filled her lungs as she inhaled the air around her, and her voice echoed against the steel wall. Emmaline followed Henry cautiously, stumbling forward as her arms flailed for support. She blinked her eyes, naturally adjusting them to the dim light in the space. She exhaled in relief as Henry’s hand grasped hers and guided her in certain strides. A small smile appeared on her lips as she heard him mumbling apologetically on how long he hadn’t been able to clean his ‘place’. So Henry must have made the hangar his place of retreat in the past few years.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could outline a few things in the old hangar. She first stared at the rusty aeroplane in front of her, its body still bore the careless scrawl of young Uncle George’s writing – Sweet Aurelia. A giggle escaped her lips at the banality of the name. A sense of nostalgia attacked Emmaline. The aeroplane must have seen so much tales of her guardian’s youth. As she searched a bit more, she spotted a set of wooden table and chair, complete with a gas lamp, and a bunk. She also saw a set of tools and a mountain of metal parts at one corner. All were in pretty good condition. Henry must have been working on the aeroplane. Who else? He was the one who had announced the place was his, anyway.

“I’ll turn on the lamp.” Henry offered as he strode past the shivering Emmaline. Emmaline had to squint her eyes as a flood of light brightened the hangar, and she could see that Henry had set up a few gas lamps around them. She closed her eyes for a few seconds when she felt the light blinding her. When she finally popped one eye open, her vision was once again obscured, this time by a large towel that Henry casually dropped on top of her head.

“Dry yourself,” It was an order, not a request. She was staring at him in exasperation as he dabbed his face with his own towel, the bunk squeaked beneath his weight as he perched his bottom on the edge. The whole episode was entirely very Henry. His slight arrogance, his forceful way, everything. Sighing her frustration away, she started by rubbing her hair with the towel vigorously, pouring her annoyance onto her innocent hair.

Henry hid a smile behind the towel as he drank the sight before him. Emmaline did as he bid much to his satisfaction, carefully wiping all wet traces on her skin, although she kept her vigilance and eyed him warily. He didn’t care. She could stare for all she liked.

Hopping onto his feet, he began rummaging a wooden trunk beside the bunk, drawing out a black sweater, a navy blue woollen garb and two pairs of pants. Laying them neatly on the bunk, he eyed Emmaline and the soaked fabric that had almost become her second skin.

The material, Henry noted, had clung seductively on her well-shaped figure. As much as she attempted to stay modest and obscured her ample breasts by crossing her arms in front of them, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. Suddenly he found it a little harder to breathe.

Shaking his head warily, he chided himself inwardly and discarded his wild imagination. This was Emmaline. Admittedly, he did not exactly keep his chastity when he started at Cambridge, but Emmaline should have been off limit.

“Try these,” Henry extended the black sweater and one of the pants to her, “Certainly too big for you, but enough to warm your body.”

He then busied himself with the portable kerosene heater as soon as Emmaline took the clothing from his hands. He seldom used it, for he hardly ever spent his time in the hangar in colder weather, so he was very pleased with himself when he managed to operate the heater properly. Wiping dust on his damp trousers, he got up to his feet with a satisfied smile as the reflection of the heater’s small fire danced in his eyes.

Emmaline hesitantly fingered the soft wool of the black sweater and clutched it to her chest, and gave Henry a long side glance in expectation.

“What?” the young man prompted as he proceeded to slide off his wet pants and hopped casually into his own dry ones. Slipping his arms into the navy blue garb, he didn’t bother tying the sash, innocently revealing his well-toned chest and abdomen.

Eyeing him perplexingly, apparently for his lack of tact, Emmaline was frowning as she pointed out, “I couldn’t change my outfit if you’re looking.”

A healthy tinge of red stole its way onto his face, and Henry, almost gaping at his own indiscretion, turned around to avoid further embarrassment. What was he thinking? He should have been protecting Emmaline’s modesty. And once again he was reminded that she was a woman. She definitely needed protection from himself.

“I’m so sorry!” He sputtered as he tried to calm his pounding heart, “You know how it is at a boy’s school. Everybody would just start…” He gulped, the heat scorching his face as he tried to dismiss the sudden imagination of Emmaline’s shapely body. Unfortunately, the image always marched back gleefully into the territory of his poor mind even after he turned away from the scene.

From her giggles, he knew she took pleasure from his embarrassment. He never understood her completely. One moment she was confused and angry about Raoul’s marriage proposal, but give her a minute, and she managed to flip her mood over her situation.