Page 62 of Potions and Proposals
“Accepting my help doesn’t make you a damsel,” he pressed, and she hesitated, chewing her lip. “Please don’t be stubborn. It’s a twenty-minute walk to your house from here, and I’m not letting you walk back alone. It’s only five to the hotel.”
The fresh air was helping to ease her nausea, and she was too uncomfortable to argue with him. She could rest a bit in the Manor, get some painkillers, and then walk home. “Okay. You win.”
He grinned.
“What?” she grumbled.
“Nothing. Just feels good to win.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she muttered, and he squeezed her waist gently.
Making for Benedict’s quarters, he and Lucy managed to sneak by the coven members at the bar unnoticed, only to be caught by the vampires’ wedding organiser. Lucy told him she could make it the rest of the way herself, but he wouldn’t listen, so she waited on the staircase as he handled the situation with ease. A few moments later, he called over some staff to take over and brought her upstairs.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Benedict exclaimed, resting his hands on his head.
A nervous chuckle escaped Lucy when she saw the burnt cake all over his desk. It was a crumbling, charred mess of melted icing and crumbs.
“Sorry – I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said, though it was nice to have a distraction from the nausea and pain currently competing within her body. “I really didn’t mean to send it here.I was trying to think of a safe place; if anything, I thought it might end up in the library.”
Benedict stared at her. “You feel safe here?”
“Shouldn’t I?” she asked, not wanting to admit what her subconscious had confirmed.
His gaze softened. A question lingered in it, but he didn’t say a word.
“We should clean this up,” she said, cutting the moment before the tension caused her to set the place on fire. She’d already made a mess of his desk.
“Forget about it for now. I’ll worry about it tomorrow,” he said, looking over to the desk and the ruined paperwork. The sweet smell of burnt icing lingered in the air.
Lucy took a seat on the black suede couch. It was so soft, she couldn’t help slipping off her shoes and snuggling up with one of the matching cushions.
“I’ll be right back with some painkillers and tea for your stomach,” Benedict fussed. If she hadn’t been so uncomfortable, she would’ve worried he had some alternative agenda. “Don’t move; I’ll be back in a second.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, trying not to be so amused by his worried mother hen impersonation.
He disappeared and she sighed in relief, glad she’d listened to him instead of walking home. She snuggled into the couch to wait.
“I hope this is the right one; we keep a few in stock for the guests.” Benedict hurried back, handing her a pink packet of painkillers specifically for menstrual pain. She wondered how he’d known or if he’d guessed as she washed them down with the peppermint tea he’d brought.
Before she could thank him, he disappeared again, only to reappear with a hot water bottle encased in a fluffy unicorn cover.Why does he have such a thing?
“Where did you get this?” she asked softly, hugging the white and pink unicorn to her swollen tummy.
“We keep them in the Manor for guests just in case. I never want anyone to feel uncomfortable,” he explained, sitting on the edge of the table across from her. She’d assumed he’d be eager to get some alone time with the coven members downstairs, but he showed no desire to leave.
“A unicorn will certainly cheer up anyone feeling unwell,” she joked as the discomfort began to settle thanks to the delicious warmth of the water bottle. Her lack of energy must have weakened his element, because, for the first time since they’d swapped, the chilly night air bothered her.
“We’ve got plain colours as well,” he added, smoothing down his trousers as though he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Lucy got the impression he wasn’t used to looking after someone, even if it was his job to see to the needs of hundreds daily.
“I got the unicorn? I feel so special!” She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to give it back. Her water bottle case at home was so worn that it barely protected her from the scalding temperature she preferred.
“The animals are usually for our younger guests, but I remembered you were obsessed with unicorns,” he recalled.
“When I was six!” How had he remembered such a small detail?
“Fine, I’ll get you a plain one.” He reached for it, but she refused to give it up.
“How did you know it was my period bothering me?”
