Page 53 of A Baron of Bonds
I sat up slowly and he was there with another glass of water in his hand as he sat on the bed next to me.
I took it without question, gulping the liquid eagerly, the stale taste in my mouth subsiding somewhat.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How long have I been asleep?”
“Almost two hours.”
I nodded, then regretted it, my neck suddenly strained. “Why do people willingly do this to themselves?”
“They enjoy the loose feeling of being drunk. Everything is funny. You had plenty to joke about yourself.”
I groaned. “I didn’t know drinking all of that would hit me so hard.”
“You drank an entire tankard of ale on an almost empty stomach. I didn’t think I’d need to warn you.”
“I’m not blaming you.”
“I know you’re not blaming me.”
I scoffed and rubbed at my face, declaring, “It’s not like it’s your job to protect me, Rev.”
“The fuck it isn’t.”
I looked up at him at that.
Yes, he was still angry.
Yes, I still deserved it.
He rose from the bed and brought a plate to my lap. He had sliced crusty bread and added cured meat in between. “Eat. I’m sure you don’t feel like it, but it will help.”
My mouth turned down in disgust at the idea, but seeing the admonishment clearly written across his face, I took the plate and bit into the food he made for me.
I forced myself to chew, watching him watch me as if I was a child on the brink of a particularly rough scolding.
He cleared his throat and spoke, “There’s a hot bath waiting for you, if you’d like.”
I swallowed the food and said dimly, “Are you sure I’ve earned it?”
“Probably not.”
I wasn’t getting off easy after all. I had hoped that his chastisement would be swift and him leading me all around the market had been enough to lessen the anger that sparked toward me and my recklessness.
That was apparently not so.
I took another bite and sighed. He rose from the bed and walked toward the washing room, undressing as he went. He unfastened his black vest and tossed it to a chair near the fire. He bent and pulled off his boots, then untucked his shirt. I admired how much better he fit into his clothing in the last few weeks.
I watched with an attentive thrill as he kept his back to me and pulled his shirt off his shoulders and arms. He didn’t even turn to give me a smirk or some witty remark to get me to follow. He just left the room, his muscled back exposed, his hands beginning to work at the button of his pants.
I could have melted into a puddle in the bed watching him leave. Instead, I tossed the plate on the bedside table before scrambling out of the sheets to follow him.
I didn’t get far, stopping and holding my head that ached and sloshed at the sudden movement. I gripped one of the bed posts and steadied myself.
I thought of every spell enhancement I knew. I wracked my brain for every lesson Clairannia had ever given me to stop this dizzying nausea.
