Gradually the shaking stopped and she went limp against him. He reached down to pull one of the furs and settled it over the both of them, but was careful not to seal their heat under the covering.

He kissed her still warm forehead and whispered, “Sleep, love. I’m here to watch over you.”

“My warrior,” she murmured.

And he smiled. Aye, just as she was his angel.

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Keeley awoke feeling like she was trapped under a boulder. Even breathing hurt. Her head was so heavy she couldn’t lift it, and she positively rattled when she tried to draw in air.

She opened her mouth, but her lips were cracked and her tongue was so dry it felt as though she rubbed it across sand.

Then she made the mistake of trying to move.

She whimpered and tears welled in her eyes. How could she feel so miserable? What had happened to her? She was never ill. She prided herself on being hale and hearty.

“Keeley, love, don’t cry.”

Alaric’s usually soothing, deep timbred voice, crackled over her ears like the sound of swords clashing.

Her vision blurred by tears, she could barely make out the outline of his face as he peered over her.

“Sick,” she croaked.

“Aye, lass, I know you’re ailing.”

“Never sick.”

He leaned in closer and smiled. “You are now.”

“Ask Maddie for the paste for my chest. ’Twill lessen some of the rattle and discomfort.”

Alaric slid his palm over her cheek, and his skin felt so cool against her burning face that she nuzzled and rubbed back and forth.

“Not to worry. Maddie has already been in your chamber three times this morning. She’s clucking like a mother hen. Mairin has been forbidden access, and she’s voicing her displeasure to anyone within hearing distance.”

Keeley tried to smile, but it hurt too much.

“Hungry,” she complained.

“Gertie is bringing you some broth.”

She blinked to try and bring Alaric’s face further into focus, but he was still blurry around the edges. But she could see his eyes. His beautiful, crystal green eyes.

She sighed. “I love your eyes.”

He grinned and she blinked in surprise.

“Did I say that aloud?”

“Aye, you did,” he said in a tone heavy with amusement.

“Am I still gripped with fever? ’Tis the only explanation for my wayward tongue.”

“Aye, the fever still rages high within you.”

She frowned. “But I’m no longer cold. The sign of a fever ’tis a chill. I find I’m overhot.”

“Your flesh still burns and your eyes are dull. ’Tis a good sign I’m told that you are not racked by chills any longer, but you are sick still.”

“I don’t like being ill.”

She knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t control the urge to sulk. She was used to tending the ill, not joining their ranks.