Cinders and Ashes (Cavendish Mysteries 2) - Page 7

Despite her exhaustion and worry, Amelia knew sleep would not be returning any time soon. She didn’t dare rest again in case his condition grew worse. She didn’t want to be too busy sleeping to help.

A quick examination of his wounds revealed them to be unchanged. Thankfully, there was no sign of infection. Carefully, she ran her fingers over the soft ridges of his bone on his sides, sighing deeply at the uneven ripples she found. Her quest for answers was met with a low moan of discomfort from the man within the bed, and immediately Amelia stopped her exploration. Undoubtedly his bones were broken, but could they cause a fever? She wasn’t sure.

She settled beside the bed with a yawn, aware that daylight had already arrived. Tugging the thin blanket around her shoulders with a yawn, she dragged the high-backed chair beside the bed and plopped down into it with a weary sigh.

She should be getting herself ready to go to work, but even if she could summon the energy, she simply could not leave him on his own for the day.

Taking advantage of his unconscious state, she studied the handsome lines of his flushed face. He really was a devastatingly handsome man. Having spoken to him, it was evident that he was Ton and that changed matters considerably. She couldn’t afford for him to become desperately ill, and put his life at risk.

As the minutes ticked by she made the decision that, should his condition deteriorate, she would just have to risk her reputation and head to the village to summon the doctor. When he was safely ensconced at the doctor’s house, she could head over to Sir Hubert’s and plead for his understanding and forgiveness for her absence from work.

As the early morning sunlight surrendered to a murky, storm-tossed gloom, Amelia was jolted awake by the thrashing of the man on the bed beside her. She jumped to her feet and tried to soothe him, muttering imprecations to herself as her fingers made contact with his incredibly hot skin. His handsome face was bathed in sweat as he twisted and turned in feverish confusion.

Outside, the wind howled its fury. The unrelenting rain steadily thrummed on the roof. It was a sound Amelia was beginning to loathe.

Swallowing a curse, her heart sank when she tugged the curtain aside and stared out into the roiling clouds lingering menacingly in the sky. Clearly the storm was going to be with them for some time yet.

Heaving a sigh, she quickly collected a pitcher of water, and began dipping several strips of cloth. The sheets were already wet with sweat, so Amelia had no qualms about getting them even wetter as she began to bathe his heated body with the icy water. Over and over she dipped the material before stroking his chest, bruised ribs, the torn flesh of his arms and wrists down to his fingertips, before retracing the path upwards to the thick column of his corded neck.

Eventually his body cooled and he settled into sleep, leaving Amelia with the problem of how she could change the wet sheets. With yet more heaving and shoving, she finally settled the new bedclothes around him, before turning towards the hearth, once more laying the fire to boil water to make a drink and some broth.

While she was waiting for the fire to heat the pot, she eased open the front door. Her heart sank at the sight that met her eyes. The dirt track outside the door had turned into a muddy pool with the volume of water that had yet to soak into the soil. Branches had been torn down from the trees and now lay across the rutted cart track, cutting them off from civilization completely.

She could walk through the woods to get help should they need it, but would have to walk for miles around the outside of the forest, to get to the wrong side of Glendowie, before attempting to locate the doctor. She would once again get cold and wet, and even if she could find the doctor, there was no guarantee he would be prepared to make the journey to her tiny cottage through the howling winds and relentless rain.

A niggling voice reminded her that she was unlikely to be able to afford to pay for a doctor, even if Sebastian could remember who he was and afford to pay himself. Indecision warred with concern for several moments before she reluctantly closed the door, replacing the chair beneath the latch with a sigh.

Time passed slowly. Her routine of bathing, changing water, washing, drying sheets and clothing, banking the fire and boiling water while eating sparsely eventually took its toll. Each time she thought she was succeeding, his temperature would soar again and he would thrash about. Desperation matched the frustration and fear until she began to doubt there was anything else she could do for him.

During one particularly bad bout of feverish thrashing, she knelt beside the bed. Gently taking his hot hand between her colder ones, she began to pray.

When Sebastian woke, his thoughts were immediately of the intriguing young woman who had put herself at significant risk to come to his aid.

Blinking slowly, he allowed his eyes to adjust to gloom, and turned his head in search of her. The sight that met his eyes made his chest tighten.

Amelia lay in front of the hearth, curled into a small ball beneath a threadbare blanket. The fire had long since died, leaving the room feeling cold and damp.

God knows how cold the stone floor must be. Sebastian thought to himself, wishing he had enough strength in his limbs to be able to scoop her up and move her to the bed and his warmth.

“Amelia,” he called softly. He didn’t want to scare her, but wasn’t prepared to allow her to lie there a moment longer. He cursed roundly when she didn’t move.

“Amelia!” His voice, although hoarse, was stronger and echoed threateningly around the room. A dark frown marred his brow as he stared in concern at her. Was she ill herself? Undoubtedly she had been out in the elements, getting cold and wet. Had she caught a fever too? Or had exhaustion claimed her?

He couldn’t remember much about the night, but he could recall her soothing voice easing his discomfort. He wasn’t sure how many times he had woken up, but each time she had been there, emerging out of the confusing haze like a guardian angel.

His heart clenched at the thought of her sacrificing her own wellbeing for him.

“Amelia!” His voice was a sharp command, and as loud as he could make it without being an outright bellow. He was rewarded by the sudden twitch of her body.

“Amelia, get up,” he ordered, frustration gnawing at him.

Amelia yawned and pushed her riotous curls out of her face, before turning towards him with a wince.

God, she was stunning. Sebastian carefully averted his gaze as his manhood began to twitch beneath the sheets.

Despite his illness, there were obviously some things that were unaffected, he thought ruefully, and shifted uncomfortably beneath the sheets.

“Are you alright?” Amelia murmured, shuffling somewhat awkwardly towards the bed. Her delicate hand touched his forehead as she searched his face, looking for any signs of fever. Her fingers felt like ice against his warm skin.

Tags: Rebecca King Cavendish Mysteries Historical
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