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For a moment, he simply looked at her. What lay behind those penetrating eyes?
He held out the cup. "Drink this."
Did he mean to help her? She'd heard hideous stories of warriors' brutality, but also occasionally of their mercy. She tried to sit, moaning at the effect this movement had on her aching body. She sank back down.
He slid a corded arm beneath her shoulders and gently raised her head. Encouraged by his unexpected aid, she sipped, grimacing at the bitterness. The vile taste permeated her mouth. Weren't deadly herbs acrid?
Dear Lord. Had he tricked her into downing a fatal brew? She eyed him accusingly. "'Tis poison."
He arched one black brow. "No. It's good medicine. Will make your pain less."
Unconvinced, she clamped her mouth together.
"I will drink. See?" he said, and took a swallow.
She parted her lips just wide enough to argue. "It may take more than a mouthful to kill."
He regarded her through narrowing eyes. "You dare much."
Though she knew he felt her tremble, she met his piercing gaze. If he were testing her, she wouldn't waver.
His sharp expression softened. "Yet you have courage." Setting the cup aside, he lifted his hand to her head.