Bound by Love (Russian Connection 2)

“You sound like my nanny,” he muttered, but much to her relief he moved to settle on the edge of the mattress.

“You are pale and obviously weak.” She pressed the cup into his reluctant hand. “This should help to revive you.”

He reached for the flask that she had left on the bed, wincing in pain at the movement.

“I have what I need to revive me.”

She swallowed a sigh. Of course he could not simply do as she requested.

“Drink the tea and I promise I will tell you whatever you wish to know.”

His eyes narrowed. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“I am wise enough to suspect it will not be nearly so simple.” He shrugged, pouring a generous measure of the brandy into the tea before taking a large sip. “Still, I am willing to give you one last opportunity.”

She pressed her hands together, not surprised to discover her palms were sweating. The laudanum would do him no harm, she desperately assured herself. Indeed, it was precisely what a doctor would prescribe.

The knowledge, unfortunately, did little to relieve her biting sense of guilt.

“Or what?”

He polished off the last of the tea and set the empty cup on the table next to the bed.

“I will drag you back to Meadowland and hold you there until you confess the truth.”

“I thought you intended to haul me back to Meadowland regardless.”

“Yes.”

“You…” She threw up her hands in exasperation.

He snared her gaze, his eyes glittering with a hectic light. The combination of shock and pain was taking a dreadful toll on his waning strength.

“Begin talking or begin packing, the choice is yours.”

She ignored his provoking command, moving forward to place her hand on his forehead, deeply relieved to discover it was cool and dry.

“Are you in pain?”

“I was just shot, Leonida.”

“Here.” Arranging the pillows against the head of the bed, she gently pressed him backward. “Lean back.”

He briefly resisted, then with a heavy sigh, he turned so he could rest against the pillows, not even complaining when she lifted his legs onto the mattress and tugged the blanket over him.

Instead he studied her from beneath half-lowered lids. “I would be much more comfortable if you were to join me.”

Her heart lurched with excitement as he patted the mattress beside him.

“I thought you wished to talk.”

“We could speak much more easily if you were close.”

She grimly refused to acknowledge the bittersweet yearning that stirred in her heart. She had already been foolishly weak in succumbing to Stefan’s skillful touch and it had nearly killed him. She would not make the same mistake again.

Instead she forced her heavy feet to the corner to pull out her case and began packing away the few belongings she had strewn about the room.