“I can handle the task,” Lorelei said at the same time as Harlowe said, “Definitely not.”
“You’re dismissed, Bethie. Andrews, stay nearby. I shall have need of you in a moment.”
Harlowe heard the door latch and forced his eyes completely open. The candlelight seemed unnaturally bright. A tray holding a bowl with steam rising and a crusty loaf had been placed on the bedside table. “Give me some of the soft part of the bread.” He was appalled by his lack of etiquette, but it required too many words.
To his surprise and dismay, Lorelei complied without comment.
He took it and chewed quietly. It was delicious. The insides of his cheeks pinched and watered.
Lorelei took up the bowl and dipped the spoon.
But Harlowe drew the line at being fed like an infant when he was conscious. “I’ll do it,” he growled.
“Is it too cold in here?” she asked. Frowning, she handed over the bowl, watching him closely.
“Tell me why you sacked the dragon,” he said around a bite of bread. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“She insisted on plying you with laudanum. And when I protested, she decided you should be institutionalized until you were better.”
A shudder racked Harlowe’s body at the thought. He managed to swallow. The bread hit his stomach. He bypassed the spoon and tipped the bowl and drank… slowly. He lowered the bowl then handed it off. “More bread… please.”
She smiled and handed over another large chunk.
“I probably deserve to be put out to pasture, but I’m exceedingly glad you opposed the notion. Who is the next dragon you have in mind?”
“Maeve Pendleton, Lady Alymer.”
If he’d had the strength, Harlowe would have choked from laughing. “Ah, so she worked it out, did she?” Somehow he wasn’t surprised. Actually, the thought sent a shot of energy through him.
“Worked it out?” Lorelei’s curiosity pierced him like a sharp instrument. “Whatever do you mean by that?”
He certainly had no desire nor the strength to explain the new dragon’s recent visit, nor did he wish to give Lore any ideas where the lady was concerned. “Isn’t she that gangly redhead with the unsightly freckles who married that old geezer four times her age?” he asked, hoping to divert her attention.
“Lord Alymer expired some time ago. And he was only three times her age.”
“Ah, well, that is much better.” Harlowe handed Lorelei the rest of his bread, unable to manage another bite. He laid his head back surprised that the pounding had abated a degree. “I think I’d better rest now,” he said.
“Should I close the window?”
“No. I can’t bear the thought of no air,” he said.
The chair creaked as she rose. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand and, apparently satisfied, she said, “Of course.” She went to the door. “Andrews, please assist Harlowe.”
After Harlowe was situated deep within the bed and Andrews had left, Lorelei asked him, “Would you like me to stay with you a bit?”
He grasped her hand and squeezed, embarrassed of his need to have her near. “For a bit. With the candle burning,” he whispered.
Three
P
arson is settling you in a chamber in the family wing,” Lorelei said.
“I hope it’s not too far from Harlowe,” Maeve said. “However improper.” Though she knew the words needed to be said, she could feel the heat crawling up her neck. She accepted the cup from Lorelei and watched as Lorelei prepared her own.
“I admit to struggling with the impropriety, but practicality won out. But no adjoining doors. That is a stretch even I could not quite muster.” She tapped her spoon against the china then set it aside, spearing Maeve with a glint of amusement. “So, I’m a harridan, am I?”
Maeve winced. “You heard that, did you?”
