Nicholas entered the room once again, this time carrying a fresh set of linens over his arm. Ella, still propped against the headboard with a faint flush on her cheeks, glanced up at him. Her fever had come down, but the lingering heat in her body made her feel sticky and uncomfortable.
"You're back," she muttered, her voice slightly raspier than usual.
He raised a brow. "Disappointed?"
"No," she said quickly, though the corners of her lips tugged up. "I just thought you'd have better things to do than fuss over me."
Nicholas smirked, setting the linens on the armchair by the window. "I'm your husband. Fussing over you is part of the deal."
Ella groaned, sinking lower into the bed. "Entertaining? I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
"Well, you look better than you did this morning," Nicholas said, his tone teasing. "Still pale, but at least you're not trying to bite my head off."
She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it. "I appreciate your help, but…" she hesitated, brushing a damp strand of hair away from her face. "I really need a bath. I feel disgusting."
His expression softened, but a mischievous glint danced in his eyes. "Is that your way of asking me to draw you one?"
"No," Ella said quickly, though her blush betrayed her. "I can manage on my own. I just need—"
"You're sick," Nicholas interrupted, stepping closer. "Let me help. It's not optional. Husband duties, remember?"
Her eyes widened. "You're not—"
"I'm not going to bathe you," he said with a laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Ella." He muttered, grabbing a fresh towel from the nearby dresser.
Nicholas returned a few minutes later, a triumphant look on his face. "The bath is ready," he announced.
Ella shifted uncomfortably. "Thank you."
When she tried to stand, her legs wobbled, and Nicholas was by her side in an instant. Without waiting for permission, he slid an arm around her waist, steadying her.
"I'm fine," she protested weakly, though she didn't push him away.
"You're as stable as a baby deer," Nicholas said dryly. "Just let me help you."
She sighed, reluctantly leaning against him as he guided her to the adjoining bathroom. The room was as luxurious as the rest of the house, with gleaming marble floors, a massive clawfoot tub, and soft lighting that gave it an almost ethereal glow. Steam rose from the water, scented faintly with lavender.
Nicholas helped her to the edge of the tub before stepping back, his eyes holding hers for a moment. "I'll be right outside if you need anything," he said, his voice softer now.
Ella nodded, her throat tight. "Thank you."
He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say more, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
The hot water was a balm to Ella's aching muscles and fever-weary body. She sank into the tub with a sigh, letting the lavender scent soothe her. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe again, the heat melting away some of the tension that had gripped her.
Her thoughts drifted to Nicholas—his teasing smirks, his surprisingly gentle care, the way his sharp eyes seemed to see right through her. He was infuriating, yes, but he also made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time: safe.
When Ella finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in one of Nicholas's oversized robes, her hair damp and loose around her shoulders, she found him waiting in the bedroom. He was leaning casually against the window frame, the sunlight catching the sharp lines of his face.
"You survived," he said, his lips quirking into a smile.
"Barely," she replied, her voice still hoarse.
He straightened, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "You look better," he said, his tone softer now. "The bath helped?"
She nodded, pulling the robe tighter around her. "Yes. Thank you."
Nicholas's gaze lingered on her damp hair, and he sighed, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "Did you forget to dry your hair again?"
"I didn't—" she started, but he was already reaching for a hair dryer from the vanity.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair by the mirror.
"Nicholas, you don't have to—"
"Ella," he said, his voice low and firm. "Sit. Husband's orders."
She swallowed hard, her legs moving before her brain could catch up. Nicholas plugged in the dryer and stood behind her, his fingers brushing against her scalp as he gently combed through her hair.
The warmth of the dryer, combined with the steady rhythm of his hands, was unexpectedly soothing. Ella closed her eyes, her heart pounding at the intimacy of the moment.
"You're terrible at taking care of yourself," Nicholas said, his tone light but teasing.
"I've been doing fine," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.
He chuckled, the sound low and rich. "If this is 'fine,' I'd hate to see what a bad day looks like for you."
She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze in the mirror. There was something in his expression—something intense and unspoken—that made her breath catch.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.
Nicholas's hands stilled for a moment before he resumed drying her hair. "Because I'm your husband," he said simply. "And taking care of you comes with the territory."
Her chest tightened, the vulnerability in his words catching her off guard. She didn't know what to say, so she stayed silent, letting the warmth of his care wash over her.
When he was done, Nicholas set the dryer aside and ran his fingers through her now-dry hair, smoothing it into place. "There," he said, his voice quieter now. "All better."
Ella turned to face him, her heart racing. "Thank you," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nicholas leaned down, his face inches from hers. "You say that a lot," he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
"Because you keep helping me," she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
His lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes remained serious. "Maybe I just like having you around."
The air between them grew heavy, the unspoken tension crackling like electricity. Ella's breath hitched as Nicholas's gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, and her heart thundered in anticipation.
But then he straightened, his smirk returning. "I'll leave you to rest."
Before he could step out, her voice stopped him. "Wait."
He turned, his eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"
Ella hesitated, fidgeting. "I, um… I don't have anything else to wear."
Nicholas's smirk widened. "I'll grab something for you. Don't worry, I'll pick something comfortable. Unless you'd prefer I bring you one of my shirts?"
The teasing lilt in his voice made her stomach flip, but she glared at him. "Just grab whatever, Nicholas."
"Whatever you say," he said with a wink before stepping out of the bedroom.