That earned a low chuckle from Will. He was tired, bone tired from fear and guilt and lack of sleep, from the hyper-vigilant prickle at the back of his neck that he couldn't banish. He'd distressed her, made her feel like a jailer, added to the worries that he'd ham-handedly been trying to alleviate, and at the end of it here she was, still standing with her arms encircling him and an unmistakeable flicker of warmth in her eyes. God, he loved her.
One hand slid to her waist. "On second thought," he said, "sometimes you've got to sacrifice tea in the name of a good cause."