Theron did not let her remain at Willowgrave any longer than necessary. The moment he could, he brought her back to the tavern.
She had not woken once during the entire ride.
Even now, as he laid her gently onto the bed, one of her hands remained curled tightly around the fabric of his coat, as though some part of her refused to let go. It was a quiet, unconscious trust, one that settled deeper in his chest than he cared to admit.
He should have loosened her grip immediately.
Instead, he paused.
He let her hold on.
For a brief moment, he simply stood there, watching her sleep. Then, slowly, he took her hand in his and lifted it toward his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles.
Her fingers carried a faint, familiar scent.
Food.
