Then I allowed myself to fall asleep, which was easier in my enemy’s arms than I thought ‘twould be.
Vrogul slept late the following day, and Matthias brought over a warm draught, which caused him to sleep most of the daylight hours and into the night, only awakening occasionally to call for me.
I’d checked for fever and changed his poultice, and when he grew agitated, stroked his skin and whispered promiseshe couldn’t hear. I told myself ‘twas just because I felt guilty.
I almost believed the lie.
On the second day, he’d been much improved, and teased me about keeping him abed, much as he did this morning. After the fear of the previous days, though, I bullied him into resting by cooking for him. ‘Twas a surprisingly nice day, full of banter and teasing.
On that day, I learned more about the male I was beginning to suspect wasn’t my captor or my enemy. I learned he cared for his people, had sacrificed much for them, and wanted naught more than their safety and happiness.
I could admire that.
And the fact I was growing to admire him was…concerning.
“Here.”
I kept a scowl on my face as I thrust the porridge at him.
“Eat up, then you can go lairding for the day.”
“Aye, lass, I have much to do, for certes.”
His expression was serious—teasingly so—as he scooted higher in the bed to facilitate breaking his fast.
“But dinnae forget what ye promised me.”
My spoon froze halfway to my lips as I frantically tried to recall promises I’d made. There’d been so many I’d breathed—to him, to his gods, to mine, offerings to help him get well—but how many hadheheard?
The way he was watching me made me wonder what he saw on my face. While he’d been ill, that spark of green in the center of his eyes had grown until ‘twas more noticeable now.
I bent over my porridge.
“What did I promise you?”
I pretended nonchalance.
“That if I shared yer bed, ye’d spar with me.”
My head jerked up.
“I did n— You—you!”
I sputtered, dropping my spoon into the bowl and turning to stomp toward the table.
“You did not sharemybed.”
“Then ye shared mine,” he said too cheerfully. “Whatever we need to tell the clan to justify?—”
“You are well enough to leave!”
I shouted over whatever outrageousness he was going to say, whirling to point to the door.
“Go away!”
Chuckling, Vrogul swung out of bed, and I averted my gaze from the sight of his broad chest. He’d slept in his kilt these last days, and I had merely loosened the ties on my gown—not wanting to give him the wrong impression—but ‘twas difficult to ignore how my body responded to his nearness.
Damn me.
