In the bathroom, Lianne finished throwing up and felt much better. A bit drained, she stood at the sink and splashed her face with handfuls of water.
Footsteps approached from behind. She looked up and saw Seth Sinclair in the mirror, grabbing a face towel before reaching out to turn her around.
Her face was dewy, her skin clear and fair. Crystalline droplets clung to her long lashes, and her eyes were moist. It was hard to tell if it was from the strain of vomiting or simply from the water.
Seth Sinclair's actions were as calm and gentle as his voice. "Still feel like throwing up?"
Lianne looked at the noble, handsome man. His eyes were serene—the calm before a storm.
She shook her head.
After drying her face, Seth Sinclair hung the towel aside. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then bent down and swept her up into his arms.
