Page 43 of Reluctant Wizard

She fluttered her lashes. “Such a romantic.”

Only for you, he nearly said, but restrained the words.

“Anyway, I’m talking too much,” she said.

She rarely spoke so freely, it was true, which meant he didn’t want her to stop. “I asked,” he pointed out simply. “And I’m delighted to keep my improved fire elemental.”

“Good.” Her lips curved in a satisfied smile, her dark gaze warm, and he savored seeing her in such a relaxed mood. He even allowed himself a bit of self-congratulation at having helped get her there. “More stew? Or are you ready for the gingerbread you commanded me to make?”

She groaned patting her concave stomach as if that demonstrated anything. “If I eat any more stew, I won’t have room for gingerbread.”

“That’s a decision then.” He stood and gathered their empty plates.

“I can help with that,” she said, starting to rise.

“No need. Sit and relax.”

“I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing,” she grumbled.

“For once in your life,” he agreed. “You’ll need to practice more before you get a good feel for it.”

“I just don’t want you to have to wait on me.”

“Take care of you,” he corrected. “Which I like to do, so you’re pleasing me by allowing it.”

She was quiet and he glanced at her, finding that she was frowning at him. “That seems backward,” she explained, catching his look.

“You’ve been through a traumatic experience.” He said it as calmly as he could, stacking the empty plates in the bin for the earth elementals to scour, controlling the immediate swell of rage as best he could. “I couldn’t help you before, but I can do this much.”

“I didn’t expect you to help me before,” she said quietly.

Ah, well, if that didn’t only make him angrier. “I know.” Because you didn’t trust me, he didn’t say. Because you don’t think I’m capable. Because you don’t need me like I need you. He didn’t say any of it, though. Instead he focused on slicing the gingerbread.

The next moment, the scent of roses thickened and she slid slender arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He set down the knife he’d been gripping too hard and laid his hands over hers, aware she pressed her cheek between his shoulder blades—and that this was the first truly spontaneous gesture of affection she’d shown him. Tempted to deny it, to brush it off, he reconsidered. If they had any future with each other—unlikely, but regardless—he should give her emotional honesty. “I understand why you didn’t. I also think it wasn’t only the geas or the threats that kept you silent.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, but she also didn’t move away. “I’m used to being on my own,” she finally said, sounding bleak enough that he wanted to kick himself for making her sad when she’d been so happy just moments before.

Turning, he faced her and leaned against the counter, drawing her close and cupping her head against his chest. He kissed her sleek hair, fragrant with the scent of her magic. “You don’t have to be.”

She tipped her chin up, searching his face. “I think I’m maybe not good at asking for help.”

“Have you ever asked for help and been refused?”

A laugh escaped, bitter-edged. “Piers Elal believes firmly that only the weak rely on anyone but themselves.”

“Oh, darling.” He smoothed comforting hands down her back. “It’s not true.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes where doubt lingered.

“How about some gingerbread with brandy sauce?” he suggested, rather than pushing her further into unhappiness.

“That sounds amazing,” she admitted, then narrowed her eyes at him. “But I feel it’s important to clarify that I didn’t ‘command’ you make it.”

“Very nearly.” He chucked her under her adorably pointed chin. “All high-house lady ordering her minions about.”

“Cillian!” She looked outraged but also contained a laugh. “That is so unfair.”

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