“You need to sleep. We all do. The bed is yours.”
“But where will you—”
“I will sleep in one of the chairs by the fire.”
Rurik growled softly something in Russian that she didn’t understand and Grigori replied solemnly. For the hundredth time that day, she hated that she didn’t know what they were saying. Her grasp of modern Russian only let her hear the occasional word. They were talking about her and beds and females, but she didn’t understand what seemed to be the source of the tension between them.
Grigori held out a hand. Surprising herself, Madelyn placed her palm in his. The electric pulse she had felt before startled her, but she didn’t pull away. He led her into his bedroom and paused, his eyes turbulent.
“Madelyn, you know you have nothing to fear from us. My brother and I .
