“Of course.” She reached out and took it by the handle. As her fingers brushed his, a tingle ran up her arm. Oh, that heat in her cheeks! How she hated her fair complexion that showed every blush.
“Yes, I am still as weak as a newborn kitten,” he said in response to her unasked question.
“But you are alive.”
“For which fact, Rowan tells me, I am indebted to you.”
It embarrassed her, and that made her cross. “You can just thank me. I am not a dragon to take offense at the words. And your dragon is a busybody.”
He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Then I thank you. I am quite attached to my life, as it happens.” He leaned his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes.
“Yet you risked it doing a blood binding so far from the Nest!” All her fear came back to her.
He opened one eye. “As if you would have hesitated for even one second, if it were your only chance to become a dragon companion.”
“Well, yes, but you are always cautious,” she said, flustered. “And you care about your responsibilities.”
He closed the eye again. “Perhaps I have learned something from someone who throws caution to the wind when she sees something she truly wants.”
The word seemed to echo between them.
Pride and vanity. Nourishing the soul. Throwing caution to the wind.
She could not help herself. She took his hand in hers and held it firmly, like an anchor in the storm.
His eyes stayed closed, but he smiled slightly. And his fingers squeezed hers, ever so gently.
Her heart just might burst.
She was still there several hours later, tired and hungry, when he woke again. But nothing would have made her leave his bedside before she was certain he was recovered.
“Is it true, then, what Rowan said, that you stayed by my bedside?” he asked huskily. “How shocking.” It was a tease.
“I went back to the main house at night. Except last night, during your healing, when I fell asleep on your dragon in a dirty old dovecote. And pray do not say that I am a mess because of it,” she said fiercely. She ought to have at least brushed her hair and put it back up, but that would have meant letting go of his hand. Out of the question.
That smile again, the one she had thought lost forever. “I would have said you look charmingly informal. And that Darcy would take a horse whip to me if he walked in at this moment.”
“Then it is a good thing Darcy is in France.” She turned to the maid. “Pray fetch some tea and food for Mr. Roderick. He needs to rebuild his strength.”
The maid curtsied and left.
Roderick’s expression grew serious. “You must take better care of your reputation.”
Exactly what she had spent the last two hours considering. “What I do with my reputation is my business, Roderick ap Rhodri. It is not your problem.”
He shook his head. “But it is. I cannot offer you a future; that has not changed. But neither will I be party to your ruination.”
“You are too late for that. I took care of that matter several years ago,” she informed him briskly, enjoying the sight of his dropped jaw.
“You did… You did what?”
“And why not? I was fated for a marriage of repulsion, where my husband’s every touch would only bring me pain unless I was drugged to accept it. Can you blame me for wanting to know something kinder and happier before I condemned myself to that?” She never told anyone before, but she was not going to let Roderick off the hook with false excuses.
“You… I…” He heaved aside. “I have no interest in judging you. It sounds eminently sensible.”
“If shocking.”
“I will not deny that.”
