“No. I-It’s late.”
He ignored her and left the room. Samantha dozed, shivers wracking her body. She doubted it was anything serious, just a consequence of the dousing she’d received on the boat. She also knew that when Warwick decided to do something, then he did it, and nothing would deter him.
She smiled into the dark.
It was wonderful to see him again. Her friend, and perhaps he’d always been something a bit more to Samantha. That she loved him was never in doubt, just what kind of love she felt for him was up for debate.
CHAPTERFIVE
Warwick coaxed the woman who was in the kitchens and looking ready to find her bed to boil him some water. He also managed to get her to put a spoon of honey in the mug.
Samantha was sick, and while he’d acted like it was going to be fine, feeling her shivers and the temperature she clearly had sent ice-cold fear through him. Yes, it was likely just a sore throat or chill, but what if it was more and he was still two to three days’ travel away from his family?
He tamped down the fear and took the drink back up to the room. Opening the door, he heard her coughing.
“Samantha, you need to drink this.” Lowering the mug to the table, he then turned up the lamp.
Her eyes were blurry and red. All he could see was from the chin up, as she had the blankets pulled high and was still shivering.
“All of it.”
When she didn’t move, he once again slid an arm behind her. Nudging her into the center, he sat beside her. Picking up the mug, he held it to her lips.
“I put cool water in it, so you can drink it without burning your tongue. I know how you are with hot things.”
She didn’t snipe at him for that comment, which told Warwick just how ill she was. His worry spiked.
“Come on, open your mouth, Samantha.”
She did as he asked, and he coaxed her to drink it. It took a while, but eventually he got it down her. Replacing the mug on the table, he lowered her onto the pillows.
“W-will you sit here with me, Warwick.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He put his feet on the bed.
She sighed and then inched closer to him.
“S-sing for me.”
“I don’t think so.” He sang when he thought no one was listening and when he’d had too much alcohol to dull his loathing of making a spectacle of himself.
“But you have a lovely voice. The best in the family.” After this, she let out a raspy cough.
“Stop talking, woman. For pity’s sake, it clearly hurts. What is it with you people continually having to speak?”
“People?” She wheezed.
“You know I mean women, but with so many of them in our family, I have learned to disguise what I truly mean over the years.”
She snuffled, which he thought was a laugh but could just as easily have been anger.
Lifting the covers, he slipped beneath with her because he was cold now. She edged closer still and was soon pressed to his side. This was nothing more than him offering comfort to a family member, Warwick reminded himself as her lovely body pressed to his.
“I don’t want to leave again, Warwick. I missed everyone too much.”
He looked down, and as she was looking up, their eyes caught and held. Something shifted inside him, but he dismissed it. This was Samantha. His sister in every way but blood.
“Then don’t. There will be no need for you to, anyway. Whoever is brave enough to wed you will likely be one of my blood, so he’ll want to stay close.”
