He made a low sound she was too tired to identify and moved away. She focused on breathing, trying to convince her trembling limbs to cooperate as she listened to him move around the space. Logs crackled as they were added to the fire. Water dripped onto the stone floor as he removed his cloak.
When he returned, he had dry clothing draped over his arm, along with a couple of linen towels.
“Here.” He set a towel and a linen shirt on the floor beside her, both worn soft and comfortable. “Give me your cloak to hang up and change out of those wet things.”
Her fingers fumbled uselessly at the clasp of her cloak. She couldn’t make them work. She couldn’t even coordinate the simple movement of pressing and pulling the clasp. Frustration welled up, hot and sharp, and she heard herself make a sound that was embarrassingly close to a sob.
“Let me.”
His hands were gentle as he undid the clasp, easing the sodden wool from her shoulders. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, like standing near a banked fire, and she had to resist the urge to lean into him.
“Dani,” she managed. “Is she?—”
“Asleep.” He nodded to where her sister was curled on a fur-lined bench next to the fire. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow but steady. “You can help her change once you’re dry. Can you manage on your own?”
Pride warred with practicality. “I think so. If you give me a minute.”
He nodded and rose, carrying her wet cloak to a wooden drying rack on the other side of the fire. She watched him for a moment, then forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Her fingers were slowly regaining sensation, enough to feel the painful prickle of returning circulation, at least, and she managed to undo the buttons of her shirt and pants with only minimal fumbling.
Even with his back turned, changing in the same room as Tarek felt intimate in a way that made heat rise to her cheeks despite the cold. She worked quickly, stripping off her wet underthings and running the towel over body before pulling the borrowed shirt over her head. It fell almost to her knees, voluminous on her smaller frame, and smelled faintly of herbs and that subtle wild scent she associated with him.
Stop,she told herself firmly.This is not the time.
“I’m decent,” she said, and heard him turn.
His gaze swept over her once, lingering for a fraction of a second on her bare legs before he went over to Dani. “I’ll wake her up so she can change. She needs to get out of her wet clothes as well.”
He was right, of course. She should have thought of that herself and prioritized Dani’s needs over her own exhaustion. Guilt twisted in her chest as she watched him crouch beside her sister, one large hand gentle on her shoulder.
“Dani.” His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Little one. You need to wake up.”
Dani stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment she looked confused, and then her eyes found Tarek’s face and went wide with alarm.
“It’s all right,” she said quickly, crossing to her sister’s side. “It’s all right, Dani. He’s helping us. Do you remember? He carried you through the storm.”
Memory returned slowly to Dani’s eyes. “The Vultor,” she whispered. “From the mountain.”
“My name is Tarek,” he said in that same soft voice, the gruffness smoothed away to something almost gentle. “You’re in my home. You’re safe here. But you need to change out of those wet clothes before you catch a chill.”
Dani looked at the shirt he held out, then at her. Her eyes asked a question, and she nodded.
“I’ll help you. Tarek, could you…?”
He was already rising, turning away to give them privacy. “I’ll make broth. You both need something warm in your stomachs.”
She helped Dani change with hands that were steadier now, if still clumsy. Her sister’s skin was cold and clammy, her lips tinged with blue, and she rubbed her brickly with the towel. At least her breathing was better than it had been in the storm.
Small mercies, she thought.I’ll take what I can get.
“Jessa?” Dani’s voice was thin and exhausted. “Did we make it? Are we really safe?”
“For now.” She pulled the shirt over Dani’s head, adjusting it around her thin frame. “Tarek’s going to let us stay until the storm passes. We can figure out the rest later.”
“He’s not what I expected.”
“No,” she agreed quietly. “He’s not.”
By the time Tarek returned with two steaming wooden cups, Dani was bundled in the borrowed shirt and one of the furs from the bench. Her eyes were already drooping, exhaustion pulling her towards sleep, but she roused enough to take the cup he offered.
