He heard her sniffle, and then she turned around. “What is it, Blake? I really should go. I'm sure you can take care of yourself. You said so, and you certainly don't need me to—”
“Why do you suddenly look as if you're going to cry?”
She swallowed. “I'm not going to cry.”
He crossed his arms and gave her a look that said he didn't believe her for one second.
“I said it was nothing,” she mumbled.
“I'm not going to let you go down these stairs until you tell me what is wrong.”
“Fine. Then I'll go up to my room.” She turned around and took one step away, but he caught a handful of the fabric of her skirt and pulled her back to him. “I suppose that now you're going to say you're not going to let me go until I tell you,” she growled.
“You're growing perceptive in your old age.”
She crossed her arms mutinously. “Oh, for goodness sake. You're being quite ridiculous.”
“I told you once that you are my responsibility, Caroline. And I don't take my responsibilities lightly.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that if you're crying, I want to put a stop to it.”
“I'm not crying,” she muttered.
“You were about to.”
“Oh!” she burst out, throwing her arms up in exasperation. “Has anyone ever told you that you're as stubborn as…as…”
“As you?” he said helpfully.
Her lips clamped into a firm and slightly twisted line as she glared daggers at him.
“Spit it out, Caroline. I'm not letting you pass until you do.”
“Fine! Do you want to know why I was upset? Fine. I'll tell you.” She swallowed, summoning courage she didn't feel. “Did you happen to notice that you compared me to the plague?”
“Oh, for the love of—” He bit his lip, presumably to keep himself from cursing in her presence.
Not, Caroline thought caustically, that that had ever stopped him before.
“You must know,” he said, “that I did not mean that literally.”
“It still hurt my feelings.”
He stared at her intently. “I will allow that that wasn't the nicest comment I have ever made, and I do apologize for it, but I know you well enough to know that that alone wouldn't make you cry.”
“I wasn't crying,” she said, quite automatically.
“Almost cry,” he corrected, “and I would like you to tell me the full story.”
“Oh very well. Percy used to call me pestilence and plague all the time. It was his very favorite insult.”
“You mentioned that. And I will take that as yet another sign that I spoke stupidly.”
She swallowed and looked away. “I never put any stock into his words. It was Percy, after all, and he is a dozen different kinds of fool. But then you said it, and—”
Blake closed his eyes for a long second, knowing what was coming next and dreading it.