God, how he wanted to smile with her. He wanted to jest and bicker with her but now was not the time.
“It was too close,” he said with full feeling. “I won’t see you hurt.”
“You seem to have this preoccupation with protecting me.” She reached for the table once more and poured a glass of claret, which she passed to him. “Here, drink this. The physician said you should eat and drink as normal to recover.”
“You did get a lot out of the physician, didn’t you?”
“Why do you think?” she huffed. “Nothing will assuage my guilt.” She sighed deeply. “But I will do what I can to help you now.”
She reached for the bandage on his head, as if such close touches between them were normal, even commonplace. He stared at her in wonder, but she didn’t seem to think anything about it.
“Thank you,” he murmured as she released him and sat back again.
She sat calmly on the stool for a minute as the two of them looked at one another.
“I am sorry,” she whispered.
“I know. So am I,” he confessed. “I do not mean to be mad at you, it’s just…” he trailed off.
He moved forward in his chair, sitting on the very edge so that they were close together. He thought she might lean back, but she gave no sign of it. Her cheeks turned a little pink, and he wondered if it was the heat of the fire or his proximity that had caused that flush.
“You have to understand what it does to me to see you hurt.”
“Does to you?” Her voice was light and soft. “There was a time when I thought it would have humored you.”
They both smiled gently at the jest.
“I would not see you hurt. Surely you know that by now.”
“I do.” She looked down at her lap, fidgeting once more. “Today was certainly evidence of it. Speaking of which, I owe you this.” She reached out and tapped him on the arm.
“Ow, what was that for? Am I not hurting enough here?”
“You are not to put yourself in danger just because I am foolish enough to get myself hurt. I won’t have that.” She shook her head. “I do not want to see you hurt either, Stephen.”
“Even when I call you Dorotheo?”
“Well, I might be entertained by such thoughts, but I do not want them to become reality.”
She leaned forward, too, as if in some desperation to make herself understood better. That fresh scent he associated so well with her wafted nearer—bergamot and pine. He inhaled softly and had no desire to lean back. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, not thinking of what he was doing.
“Stay safe, Stephen,” she whispered. “Please. You do not know what it does to me to see you like this.”
He believed her. For a change, they were not arguing. She was caring for him, speaking earnestly, in such a way that he wanted nothing more than to stay here with her and forget the outside world.
“We shouldn’t be like this,” he murmured. It was time that he drew attention to how close they were. She could not be ignorant of how many boundaries they were crossing now. “If someone saw us like this, they might mistake us for…” He broke off.
Dorothy bit her bottom lip, and he watched that movement.
He wondered what it would be like to kiss her. To show what he felt for her in that kiss, to show this growing warmth, this attraction, thisneedto be around her, without having to put it into words.
“They might think us a courting couple again,” she said softly, finishing his sentence.
“Just so.”
He angled his head a little more, closer to her. When her eyes fluttered shut, he held his breath.
He could kiss her. Dorothy was clearly thinking of it, too.
