Conaan took a small breath as he shifted his weight to his feet, so he wouldn't disturb Eleanor. She was fast asleep, her eyelashes moving only slightly. Slowly, he dabbed at the soothing ointment, then grazed his finger under her eyes, letting his thumb linger for longer than necessary.

He had not expected her to cry that much, or that he was capable of making her feel something as strong as she apparently had last night. And even though he hated her tears, he let himself hold a glimmer of hope amidst them. He now believed that the magic he wanted with her could eventually happen, and maybe it made...