Mira by Leighann Phoenix Page B

to the edge of the bed.   It didn’t take near the effort that it had before.   She noticed that her robe was across the foot of the bed, and she pulled it on over a shift she didn’t remember putting on.   Looking around the room, she saw that her rugs were gone, and her pitcher was different.   He must have come in and cleaned everything up while I was unconscious, she thought uncertainly.  
                Mira made her way over to the fire, found a bowl and spoon, and carefully scooped some of the meaty broth out of the pot.   The stones were cold under her feet and sent a chill through her.   I wonder if he’ll replace the rugs.   They made a big difference .   She sat down in the chair at the small table in her room and ate slowly.   It wasn’t great stew, but she instantly felt better as it filled her empty stomach.  
                Rillan watched from the shadows, as Mira got up and made herself a bowl of stew.   She was obviously unsteady, but relief coursed through him, with the certainty that she would be okay.   He slunk into the darkness and quietly opened her storeroom, removed a loaf of bread and some cheese, then crept back.   She was sitting with her eyes closed, chewing a small bite of stew.   Her head must still hurt, he thought.  
                Indecision halted his steps.   He didn’t want to upset her, but he wanted to know how she was going to be with him now.   He could wait until she came looking for him again, but his guilty conscience would gnaw at him until he apologized.   He growled at himself.   He would feel even worse, if he went in to talk to her and only made her upset in addition to having made her sick.   Finally, he began to annoy himself again.   When did I stop being a man with women, he asked himself in frustration.   He strode into the room and cleared his throat, so that she would hear him coming.
                Mira jumped at the sudden strange noise assaulting her ears over the sound of the crackling fire.   Rillan flinched, when she reacted to his approach with fear.   He was already anticipating her screaming, when she looked at him.   To his surprise, when Mira turned, and her eyes met his, she gave him a solid glare, which spoke of any number of emotions, none having anything to do with fear.
                “A gentleman knocks to announce his presence.   I don’t appreciate being snuck up on, Lord Tiernay,” Mira said, in a quiet, but authoritative tone reflective of her pounding headache.
                Rillan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at the glare and reprimand.
                “I’m glad you find it amusing,” she growled angrily and went back to her stew.
                Rillan sat the bread and cheese on the table in front of her.   “Do you want some tea,” he suggested.   Without waiting for an answer, he went over to the fire, poured some water from the new pitcher into the cast iron kettle and placed it in the fire.
                Mira broke a piece of the bread off of the loaf and dipped it in the stew broth.   She chewed slowly, ignoring Rillan, as he produced two mugs for the tea and a tea pot.   He seemed to know her room almost better than she did.  
                He cleared his throat again.   “Are you feeling better?”   Rillan squatted down near the fire and used the poker to move the logs about.
                Mira finished chewing and swallowed.   “A little.”   There was another long silence, while Mira watched him play in the fire.   She thought about some of her friends and how the guys always liked to mess with the fire.   She wondered if it was male nature to be drawn to the flames.   “My head hurts pretty badly,” she said, in a nervous sounding voice.
                Rillan stood up and looked at her.   He stared into her eyes intently, as if he was trying to