“How are you?" he asked gently.
Had he started any other way, she might have been able to maintain her composure. But that simple question, and the wealth of concern and tenderness in his gaze, caused the blank, sick feeling to melt away, far too fast. Cassandra tried to answer, but no sound emerged: She could only breathe in quick, shallow pulls. In the next moment, she shocked both of them, and undoubtedly everyone else in the library, by bursting into tears. Mortified, she put her hands over her face.
In the next moment, she felt him pulling her into a deep embrace. His voice was low and soothing in her ear. "No... no... it's all right, easy now. My sweet darling. Poor buttercup.”