slide down
the doorframe. Moving instinctively, Louisa had her shoulder under
his arm in a moment, steadying him as he collapsed. He was much
larger than she, and for a second she thought she would collapse
with him.
She straightened and stared down, stunned, at
where he sat propped against the doorframe. Hesitating only a
moment, she leaned over him to smell his breath and detected a
faint hint of alcohol. She brought a hand to his forehead and was
alarmed to find he had a fever.
Another blast of the night air,
uncharacteristically cold this early in September, had her
shivering in earnest now. She would have to move the stranger
inside and close the door. She didn’t know what was wrong with him,
but with his fever he couldn’t afford to catch a chill. She wasn’t
strong enough, however, to carry him inside on her own.
Her decision made, she hurried upstairs and
rapped on her brother’s door. When he didn’t answer, she entered
the room and shook him awake.
“What’s the matter?” he mumbled, his eyes
still closed.
“I need your help. There’s a man downstairs
who is ill. He collapsed on our doorstep.”
John jolted awake at the mention of the
stranger. At eighteen, he was seven years younger than her, but
since their father had died he’d decided it was his duty to protect
the family.
He dressed quickly and followed her
downstairs to where the man sat, still propped up, in their
doorway.
“Who is he?”
Louisa shook her head. “I don’t know, but
he’s ill and the cold can’t be good for him. Help me bring him
inside so I can close the door.”
They managed to rouse the man enough to help
him to his feet, supporting his weight between them. He was
unsteady and their progress was slow, but at her insistence they
managed to bring him to her room, which was still warm from her
recently banked fire. He collapsed on her bed with a groan.
“I’ll see to his comfort,” she told John. “I
saw a horse outside that must belong to our guest. He’ll need to be
cared for.”
John set his shoulders and she knew he was
going to insist that she look after the horse. She cut him off
before he could protest the impropriety of the situation.
“Do you actually believe this man is in any
condition to do me harm?”
Her brother hesitated, but it was clear the
stranger had lost consciousness. Grumbling something under his
breath about bossy sisters, he turned and left to see to the
horse.
Louisa occupied herself with rebuilding a
fire in the small fireplace before turning to look at the man lying
on her bed. Despite her assurances to her brother, she was nervous.
She’d cared for their father during his long illness, but this man
was nothing like their father.
She approached the bed and looked down at
him, and her heart fluttered as she realized just how handsome he
was. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, framing a face that
had no doubt caused many other hearts to beat faster, as well.
Despite his fever, he was very pale, his skin drawn taught over
high cheekbones and a strong jaw that was already showing a hint of
stubble.
She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled down
the length of him. He was asleep, but his presence filled the room.
She shook her head to clear it and turned away, telling herself
that caring for this man would be no different than caring for her
father as she went to her washstand and poured water from the
pitcher into the washbasin. Concentrating on the familiar task, she
set the basin on her bedside table, dipped a washcloth into the
water, and wrung it out. Her hands were not quite steady as she
washed his face, hoping the cool water would bring him a measure of
comfort. Her movements were brisk, but slowed when he moaned. His
eyes opened and she froze as his black, inscrutable gaze caught and
held hers.
She was spiraling downward, drowning in twin
pools of darkness. The heat in the room seemed to increase as a
flush spread through her body. The seconds ticked by, seeming
the doorframe. Moving instinctively, Louisa had her shoulder under
his arm in a moment, steadying him as he collapsed. He was much
larger than she, and for a second she thought she would collapse
with him.
She straightened and stared down, stunned, at
where he sat propped against the doorframe. Hesitating only a
moment, she leaned over him to smell his breath and detected a
faint hint of alcohol. She brought a hand to his forehead and was
alarmed to find he had a fever.
Another blast of the night air,
uncharacteristically cold this early in September, had her
shivering in earnest now. She would have to move the stranger
inside and close the door. She didn’t know what was wrong with him,
but with his fever he couldn’t afford to catch a chill. She wasn’t
strong enough, however, to carry him inside on her own.
Her decision made, she hurried upstairs and
rapped on her brother’s door. When he didn’t answer, she entered
the room and shook him awake.
“What’s the matter?” he mumbled, his eyes
still closed.
“I need your help. There’s a man downstairs
who is ill. He collapsed on our doorstep.”
John jolted awake at the mention of the
stranger. At eighteen, he was seven years younger than her, but
since their father had died he’d decided it was his duty to protect
the family.
He dressed quickly and followed her
downstairs to where the man sat, still propped up, in their
doorway.
“Who is he?”
Louisa shook her head. “I don’t know, but
he’s ill and the cold can’t be good for him. Help me bring him
inside so I can close the door.”
They managed to rouse the man enough to help
him to his feet, supporting his weight between them. He was
unsteady and their progress was slow, but at her insistence they
managed to bring him to her room, which was still warm from her
recently banked fire. He collapsed on her bed with a groan.
“I’ll see to his comfort,” she told John. “I
saw a horse outside that must belong to our guest. He’ll need to be
cared for.”
John set his shoulders and she knew he was
going to insist that she look after the horse. She cut him off
before he could protest the impropriety of the situation.
“Do you actually believe this man is in any
condition to do me harm?”
Her brother hesitated, but it was clear the
stranger had lost consciousness. Grumbling something under his
breath about bossy sisters, he turned and left to see to the
horse.
Louisa occupied herself with rebuilding a
fire in the small fireplace before turning to look at the man lying
on her bed. Despite her assurances to her brother, she was nervous.
She’d cared for their father during his long illness, but this man
was nothing like their father.
She approached the bed and looked down at
him, and her heart fluttered as she realized just how handsome he
was. His hair was a dark brown, almost black, framing a face that
had no doubt caused many other hearts to beat faster, as well.
Despite his fever, he was very pale, his skin drawn taught over
high cheekbones and a strong jaw that was already showing a hint of
stubble.
She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled down
the length of him. He was asleep, but his presence filled the room.
She shook her head to clear it and turned away, telling herself
that caring for this man would be no different than caring for her
father as she went to her washstand and poured water from the
pitcher into the washbasin. Concentrating on the familiar task, she
set the basin on her bedside table, dipped a washcloth into the
water, and wrung it out. Her hands were not quite steady as she
washed his face, hoping the cool water would bring him a measure of
comfort. Her movements were brisk, but slowed when he moaned. His
eyes opened and she froze as his black, inscrutable gaze caught and
held hers.
She was spiraling downward, drowning in twin
pools of darkness. The heat in the room seemed to increase as a
flush spread through her body. The seconds ticked by, seeming
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