"Not that I mind this in the least," he said quietly, reluctant to give up the intimacy but worried enough that he had to ask, "but is something troubling you, Sam?" Her breath caught, then began again. Slowly she nodded against his chest. Christ. Okay, it was bad. Calculating how hard he should push and how she would react, he decided to cajole her into talking. "You're not sick, are you?" "No," she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. So far, so good. "I'm not sick, am I?" "No." "No one's died?" "No. No one at all." Nearly complete sentences now. That seemed like an improvement. Keeping his voice calm and quiet and the questions over the top and nonthreatening, he kept talking. "You haven't stolen anything that will force you to flee the country?"