She accepted the hold of his hand more than willingly. There'd been times over the last couple of weeks she'd been afraid he'd never touch her so tenderly again. Her head knew that was just silly, that he loved her and that he was just angry and hurt and time really would heal all wounds. But her heart was hurt every time he turned away from her, or sniped at her, or slept on his end of the bed without even reaching for her. Not only did it hurt, but it was frightening as well. She'd put so much of herself into him. If he decided this wasn't the life he wanted, then what?
His hesitancy to talk was obvious, but she didn't press for it. She let it come to him and then make its way out, and she rested her head on his shoulder as he smiled at her. She hated thinking about him out in the desert, injured and feverish and almost lost to her. But this was what she'd wanted. "At least you admit it wasn't just because you're too stubborn," she teased gently, squeezing his fingers. "You need the rest, Robin. Even if the medicine here is far more advanced, you could still get sick from pushing yourself too hard too soon. And I won't lose you. Not now."