Page 19 of Griffin Food

The door swings open, and Rafe is standing there. Lark is hot on his heels.

My eyes widen, and I emit a small squeal. This time, I have half pivoted toward the opening door, and when I pitch forward, there is nothing even to grab.

Rafe is right there, grasping me by the arm and setting me down on the bed.

“Gods, what are you doing, lass?”

They are both standing over me. Neither seems surprised by my state of undress. “I’m undressed!”

“The blanket,” Rafe says to Lark.

Lark quickly grabs a blanket from the bed and wraps it around my shoulders.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say weakly.

Rafe blows out a breath. “All right, lass. Want us to help you dress?”

“No.” I chance a glance up at him, feeling his eyes on me. His expression is very stern, and his fingers twitch the way they do when he thinks I’m in need of a spanking. Clearly, I am too weak to be spanked. Or to dress myself. “Yes, please.”

Lark collects my saddlebag, which has been neatly placed on the small dresser. He puts it on the bed beside me and starts rummaging through it for clothes. Instead of handing them to me, he extracts my panties from the pile and gives them to Rafe.

My mouth is doing a good impression of a fish out of water even before Rafe kneels before me and says, “Put your foot in, lass.”

Shocked into compliance, I do.

“That’s it, good girl… Help her stand, Lark.”

With the blanket still wrapped around me, Lark takes my arm to steady me while I clutch the blanket, and Rafe pulls them up.

My shame level is through the roof.

Next come my pants, after which I finally revive my wits and shoo them out. “I can manage the rest myself, and while sitting,” I say frostily. “I shall call you before I stand.”

Rafe’s expression is particularly stern. “We’ll be right outside the door. Call us when you’re ready. We’ll walk you down to the bathing room.”

I nod. They leave. I finish the rest of my clothing and get my boots on. Then I try to stand. Because I’m stubborn.

Nope, no miraculous recovery.

Not only are my legs no more stable, but an acute soreness is emanating between my legs. I’m very sticky there. I try to convince myself that Rafe might not have noticed that the blanket covered my decency.

Do not think about that now when you need to call them back in.

“Are you ready?” Rafe calls through the closed door like he senses I am up to something nefarious… which I suppose I am.

“Yes.”

The door swings open.

They escort me downstairs.

I bathe. I do my best to finger-comb the knotty mess that is my hair—how it came to be in this state… and crusted in places with what, I have no idea, and further I refuse to think about it. By the time I am cleaned to my satisfaction, my skin is wrinkled. I empty the bath and use a nearby jug to douse myself in fresh water.

I’m trembling with the effort of this simple task. My stomach is so empty it feels like a knot has been scoured out with sandpaper.

When I open the curtain, I find Lark leaning against the wall.

He pushes off it as soon as he sees me, his eyes searching mine. “How are you feeling?”