Page 28 of Conail

"Why? Is it off limits?" The sickness was easing and the humiliation of being caught by him in such a position was taking precedence.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

She spared him a glance, before making her way slowly out of the room.

"I wanted a change of scenery and decided to make myself some soup with roast chicken. That did not go well at all."

Clamping his hand on her arm, he stopped her as she was about to go into the library.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you back to bed."

"I'm not an invalid and I--" She swayed against him as the dizziness swamped her. For a minute, she rested her head against his chest and fought it. Her fingers curled into his sweater as she took several deep breaths.

Conail felt a wave of something that had him holding her close, his hands rubbing her back soothingly.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Let's get you back upstairs."

This time, she didn't argue but allowed him to lead her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She crawled into bed gratefully, her stomach empty.

Once she was settled, he went to the kitchen to prepare the tea. The kettle whistled softly as he meticulously selected the tea leaves, hoping to brew something that would soothe her. He had never fully appreciated what his mother had told him about her condition until he had walked in on her knelt in front of the bowl, puking her guts out.

Returning to her room, he found her half-asleep, her breathing steady. He placed the steaming cup on the nightstand and gently touched her shoulder. She stirred, opening her eyes slowly.

"Here," he said, holding out the cup. She sat up carefully and took it from him, her fingers brushing against his.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking a sip. The warmth of the tea seemed to bring a bit of color back to her cheeks.

He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, watching her.

"Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head, setting the cup aside after a few more sips.

"Just some rest, I think."

He nodded, leaning back in the chair but making no move to leave.

"I'll stay here, just in case."

She eyed him over the rim of the cup, studying him curiously.

"Do I have something on my face?" He sounded a bit annoyed as she continued to stare.

"No." She shook her head. "Just wondering what kind of threats or bribes from your mother that had you coming here."

He shifted slightly, and she was surprised to see the faint flush coloring his face. He had an interesting face, she thought. Lean and narrow, with a slightly crooked nose. His hair was sable brown with hints of gold, his eyes an inscrutable gray with hints of green.

"Are you done?" he asked tightly, not liking the fact that she was staring at him so intently.

"Just about," She responded mildly. "I heard somewhere that you did not want to get involved."

His eyes flared.

"The fact that I stopped by to see if you're okay is a one-time thing."

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