Giselle halted for a moment, fighting off a yawn. With a weary smile, she said, “Why would I think of retaliating against you?”
At this late hour, retaliation was the last thing on her mind; she simply wanted to cater to his needs and get some sleep.
Henry, dubious, leaned in closer, his forehead nearly touching hers. “Really, no thoughts of revenge?”
“Why on earth would I want to retaliate against you for no reason?” Giselle’s hold on the bowl wavered, and she pushed against Henry’s forehead with her index finger, trying to keep him at bay.
Overcome by another yawn, she placed the sobering soup on the coffee table. “Drink it yourself. I’m going upstairs to rest.”
Swiftly, Henry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms, seating her sideways on his lap.
“Can’t manage the spoon.
