He was standing there, behind his desk, in a patch of late afternoon light, with a brandy in his hand, his shirt and trousers filthy, his sleeves rolled back to above his elbows, and his chin and cheeks shadowed with the growth of three days’ beard. She’d never seen him more handsome. “Are you all right?” she asked, drinking in the sight of him as she advanced into the room. “I’m fine, Sera,” he assured her, his gaze just a bit unfocused as he stifled a yawn. “I have a few nicks and a couple of bruises, but nothing to be at all concerned about.” Sera waited for his eyes to sparkle and for him to offer to show them to her. Instead he yawned again. Telling herself that his failure stemmed from exhaustion, not disinterest, she swallowed down her disappointment and went on. “I’ve been so worried about you. Did you save the tunnel?” “Certainly not by myself and there were a few times that I wasn’t quite so sure it could even be done. But in the end, we pulled out a miracle or two.”
