She looked down at this man she was actually considering marrying. Even unconscious, there was a certain air of resolute power about him. No, he wouldn't need alcohol to bolster his self-esteem.

“Well,” she said out loud, “I suppose we can at least use it to wake you up.” She held the flask in front of her and placed it under his nose.

No response.

Ellie frowned and placed her hand over his heart. “My lord, you haven't gone and died since the last time you groaned, have you?”

Not surprisingly, he didn't reply, but Ellie did feel his heart beating steadily beneath her palm, which reassured her greatly. “Charles,” she said, trying to sound stern, “I would really appreciate it if you would wake up immediately.”

When he again didn't so much as twitch, she placed her fore and middle fingers against the opening of the flask and tipped it over, dousing her skin with the cool whiskey. It evaporated quickly against her flesh, so she repeated the motion, this time keeping the flask overturned a bit longer. When she was satisfied that her fingers were sufficiently wet, she dabbed them under his nose.

“Whaa…Aya…Heebelah!”

Charles didn't make much sense as he came to. He shot up like a bullet, blinking and startled, looking very much like a man waking up too quickly from a nightmare.

Ellie lurched back to avoid his flailing arms, but she wasn't quick enough, and he knocked the flask from her hands. It sailed through the air, spewing whiskey all the while. She jumped backward, and this time she was quick enough. All of the whiskey landed on Charles, who was still spluttering incoherently.

“What the hell did you do to me?” he demanded once he regained his power of speech.

“What did I do to you?”

He coughed and wrinkled his nose. “I smell like a drunk.”

“You smell very much like you did two days ago.”

“Two days ago I was—”

“A drunk,” Ellie retorted.

His eyes darkened. “I was drunk, not a drunk. There is a difference. And you—” He jabbed his finger in her direction, then winced at the sudden movement and grabbed his head.

“Charles?” Ellie asked cautiously, forgetting that she was rather angry with him for somehow placing the blame for this entire farce on her shoulders. All she could see was that he was in pain. A lot of pain, if his facial expression was any indication.

“Lord almighty,” he cursed. “Did someone hit me on the head with a log?”

“I was tempted to,” Ellie tried to joke, hoping that levity might take his mind off the pain.

“That I do not doubt. You would have made a superb army commander had you been born a man.”

“There are a lot of things I could have done had I been born a man,” Ellie muttered, “and marrying you is not one of them.”

“Lucky me,” Charles replied, still wincing. “Lucky you.”

“That remains to be seen.”