CHAPTER 23

Keeley opened her eyes to see Alaric standing by the bed, his expression brooding and inquisitive.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Warm. Finally warm.”

But even as she spoke, a shiver rolled over her body, setting off another round of uncontrollable chills.

With a muttered curse, he slid onto the bed next to her and pulled her into his arms.

He was heaven. Like a stone warmed in an oven. She pushed every part of her body into his and absorbed his heat to her bones. It was so exquisite that she moaned.

“Are you in pain?” he asked quickly.

“Nay. ’Tis a wondrous sensation. You are so warm. I may never want to move.”

He kissed her brow and soothed a hand over her face. “If ’twas my choice, you never would.”

“Can I sleep now? Maddie said the injury to my head wasn’t serious. I find myself unable to hold my eyes open.”

“Aye, Keeley, sleep. I’ll remain ever near to watch over you.”

His promise gladdened her heart and spread warmth into areas still numb with the cold. Although she knew he shouldn’t be here, she hadn’t the power—or the desire—to turn him away.

She rubbed her cheek over his broad chest and sighed in contentment. The night was hers, and she’d not spend a single moment lamenting what couldn’t be changed. Instead she’d enjoy whatever she could have, while she could have it, and tomorrow would take care of itself.

During the night, Alaric was awakened by Keeley’s restless movements. It took him a moment in his deep sleep to realize that she was still asleep herself.

Rousing himself, he studied her in the dim light as she twisted fretfully next to him. Fear took hold and he cupped a hand over her forehead.

He cursed as he registered the warmth radiating from her.

“ ’Tis cold,” she said in a small voice. “I can’t get warm. Please, the fire, I need the fire.”

Shivers wracked her body, and as hot as she felt to his touch, she seemed equally freezing on the inside.

“Shh, love. I’ll warm you.”

Even as he said the words, he recalled the knowledge that extra warmth only added to a fever. Was he supposed to strip her of the furs and her clothing and bathe her in cool water, or at least wipe her brow with a cool rag?

Helplessness gripped him. He hadn’t the skills to nurse someone with a fever. Battle was his skill. Killing and defense. Repairing wounds? He had no experience.

Gently he pried her body away from his and rolled from the heat of the furs. He was glad for the slight chill in the room, for Keeley burned with a fever, and where he’d warmed her earlier, she now had heat enough for the both of them.