“Woah there!” He caught her by the waist. “Vermin are the least of our worries.”
Our.
She would have mock-chuckled if she’d had the strength.
As if he’d ever share anything with anyone.
As if he even knew how to share.
Our.
Damnation! How had everything gone so dreadfully wrong?
He sunk to his shins, bringing them both terribly close to the flames. Wood squealed against wood as he dragged the table closer and propped his back on the leg. Physically, he urged her to give him her weight, then covered them both with the blanket.
Lord, he radiated more heat than Cook’s brick stove.
Every limb of his body scorched as he adjusted her position between his thighs. She reached out toward the fire, but he yanked her back.
“M-my hands—”
“First, we warm your center.”
She scowled.
“Just sit. When you stop shivering you can do whatever you like—rail at me ’til morning, spit every insult you know.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes, suddenly tired. “Curse aloud?”
“If you so desire.”
“Fuck,” she repeated his lovely word.
He groaned. “I deserved that, I suppose. Should have watched my mouth, though Lord knows how you dement my mind.”
He studied her with an odd expression. Then he sighed as he attempted to place a bowl of broth into her unsteady hands. He took back the bowl when it became apparent her shaking would scatter the contents before she had a chance to drink.
“Let’s try this.” He adjusted her position so they were nestled cheek-to-cheek.
Steam from the warm bone broth spread over her face, dissipating all thought. He tilted the bowl; she sipped. Salt. Heat. A slight meaty taste. Soothing warmth traveled down toward her belly. She sipped again. It wasn’t a steaming pastry, but the broth made her insides relax.
Still, part of her hovered above the scene, mortified. Rayne was feeding her, for goodness’ sake. She’d never abducted anyone, of course, but she doubted this was how things were supposed to proceed. Now, she’d be beholden to him, and that just wouldn’t do.
“No more,” she managed.
“Just one more sip—a deep one, this time.”
This Rayne, she knew. Overbearing. High-handed. Severe.
This Rayne, she trusted. Oddly enough.
She obliged him by drinking deep, and then she sucked in her lips.
“Done,” she said with a narrow-eyed glare.
He took a drink himself and then set aside the bowl. Beside them, the fire snapped. A stray ember spiraled up the chimney, fading to ash.
She purposefully tensed her shoulders and then let them drop. “I am exhausted.”
