Adrian laid his hand gently against Eleanora’s shoulder, applying the slightest pressure in an attempt to guide her to face him. She yielded to the soft command without protest, placing implicit trust in the motion of his hand. As she shifted to the side, the blanket that had cocooned her fell off her shoulders, and she immediately began to shiver. Instinctively, she curled tighter into herself, seeking refuge in the warmth of the covers. Hovering awkwardly above her, Adrian lightly grasped the edges of the blanket, intending to pull it back into place.
“Don’t take the blanket… or I’ll have to fire you as my butler,” Eleanora murmured, her voice no louder than the gentlest breath of wind. Although protesting, the woman made no effort to move. She hovered in that vulnerable state between sleep and wakefulness, operating purely on an instinct that lacked the clarity of rational thought.
