Chapter Thirteen

Although the meal helped a great deal, Red could not claim to feel revived. Not when his head kept pounding and his skin fluctuated between flaming hot and ice cold. His biggest desire at present was to curl up in the rather comfortable-looking bed upstairs. Unfortunately, he had to keep the presence up for Hannah. He could hardly let her know he was not feeling at all well after declaring he never sickened. Besides, all he needed was a good night's sleep and all would be well.

Of course, his second biggest desire was Hannah at present. Why the eventful day of feral children and a near theft had made him feel any more desirous toward her, he could not say. After the scolding she gave him about using the stone as a weapon, he should be thoroughly ticked off with her.

But the meal had been pleasant, in spite of the ache in his skull, and he could not help feel he understood her that little bit better. Hannah was too smart really. No one could fully grasp her and her father, while seeming to encourage her pursuit of knowledge, had also confined her to the role of a woman too much—leaving her at home to tend to the housekeeping and the like. She needed more stimulation.

He grimaced to himself as he thanked the maid and forced his mind onto very dull things indeed.

Stimulation. He should not use that word and think of Hannah in the same moment. It summoned up ideas of how he might stimulate her. And he certainly was not thinking of her mind. Hell, the image of her nipples prodding against her chemise was still implanted into his brain. That memory and looking at her in the candlelight, her curls not quite perfect and her lips all pursed as she studied the room had him on edge and far too likely to let his mind wander into places it should not go.

Dull things. Dull things. Dull things.

Chess. Doing the accounts. Reading Plato.

Hannah's nipples.

"Shall we?" He stood abruptly and instantly regretted it. His head swam.

She scowled at him. "Is all well?"

He eased back her chair and helped her stand. "Of course."

"It's just you...swayed."

"I certainly did not."

"You did."

He drew in a breath through his nostrils. "I did not. Now let us retreat for the night. We have a long day ahead. I'll see that your dress is cleaned for the morning."

She gave him another quizzical look. "He did sway," he heard her mutter to herself.

She made no more comment on his stance or his supposed swaying as they readied for bed. He preferred sleeping naked, but for her sake, he remained in his shirt. He turned his back while she stripped down to her chemise and dove under the covers. Red knew she dove as he caught a glimpse of a blur of white flying across the room in the window reflection and the bed gave a great creak and a heavy thud.

"Oh no."

He turned. The thud had been the bed collapsing. Now in two pieces, the mattress was entirely sagged in the middle with Hannah sat atop it. She looked up at him like a child hoping not to get into trouble with its parent. He shook his head to himself.

"It must have been a weak bed," she declared.

That, and she had been so keen to hide herself from him. Not that he could blame her. Of their two nights they had been together, fifty percent of them had been him trying to kiss her. Hannah was no fool. She knew well what he intended.

He would have to up his record and not turn it into one hundred percent attempted kisses.

"I had better see if there is another room, though the innkeeper said another coach had come in. I doubt there are any more doubles, and I do not much like the thought of putting you in a room on your own."

"No, it is fine. I shall just drag this mattress onto the floor..." She clambered up and began trying to heft it over.

Red strode over and urged her aside so he could move the mattress away from the wreckage of the bed. "You sleep in that bed. I'll sleep here."

"Oh, you do not need to..."

His head pounded urgently. "Hannah, do not argue with me."

She clamped her mouth shut and with much, much more caution, climbed into the bed intended for him. He would sleep on a rock for all he cared, his body was so tired, but he could not have her sleeping on the floor, mattress or not.

He waited until she settled then blew out the candles. The maid had set up a fire that glowed brightly enough to enable him to find his way back to the mattress. It also meant he could view Hannah all tucked up far too easily.

It was a good job he was so exhausted really. She made a very tempting proposition. Odd really, because there was little that could be thought of as sensual or sexual about a woman in a long chemise, curled up on her side, the blankets tucked up under her chin.

And yet...

He released what had to be his hundredth frustrated sigh of the evening.

Yet there was something about her.

She watched him climb onto the mattress. His cock stirred so he quickly tucked the blanket around himself and silently had a word with his manhood. Never had he had such a problem with control and especially not over bundles of bluestocking women.

He closed his eyes and focused on the blackness behind them. Even though he was fairly certain he had never been as tired as this before in his entire life, the urge to flick open his eyelids and watch her sleep was fierce. Which was ridiculous. What sort of an idiot watched women sleep? What on earth would Hannah think if she awoke to find him staring at her?

The thought of terrifying the woman who had done nothing more than look far too attractive in her matronly chemise forced him to keep his eyes shut. He felt every lump of the floor through the too-thin mattress and heard the pop and snap of the fire along with the bluster of wind occasionally breezing through a gap in the window. He cracked open an eye and peered around at the interior, lit by the orange glow of the fire. He looked everywhere but Hannah.

Her soft breaths rattled his brain. They were slow and relaxed. She had to be asleep. Each delicate puff of air found its way directly into his brain, tangling around his thoughts and most likely turning him into a madman. He could resist no longer. He twisted his head.

A smile split his lips. Her mouth was ajar, one hand tucked under her head. Her cheek was all squished as it rested on the hand. A few wisps of hair had come loose from her braid and followed the line of her jaw. It was an entirely adorable picture.

Christ, he didn't think he'd ever used the word adorable in his life, and here he using it to refer to a woman he was becoming increasingly lecherous toward. It was that blasted stone, it had to be.

He wasn't one to believe in luck. He had always made his own. But bad luck...perhaps that existed. It would explain everything that had happened so far, from the storm to the broken bed, and perhaps was even responsible for trying to send him mad over a woman who could not be more wrong for him and was certainly not the type of lady one took to bed on a whim.

Red squeezed his eyes closed and drew his attention back to the darkness behind his lids. He took deep breaths and focused on the sound of them, counting them. One, two, three...Hannah's nipples...four, five, six…pouty lips...seven, eight...what would she look like naked?

He tossed to the other side and gave himself up to the thoughts. His mind was clearly not going to settle until he had fully imagined every inch of her. Perhaps it would be better to get it out of the way. Once he had done that, he would stop wondering. He closed his eyes and pictured her to his heart's content.

"Red."

He groaned at the soft sound of his name on her lips. Christ, how he wanted to hear that over and over.

"Say it again," he murmured.

"Red." It was more urgent this time.

"Again."

"Red, wake up!"

He jerked his eyes open to find Hannah next to him, all buttoned up and not naked and willing next to him as he'd been dreaming. Apparently all he had needed to fall asleep was to think of Hannah naked. He hoped it was not a permanent thing.

"Red, you are burning up."

Her palm was on his forehead. He took a full moment to analyze the state of his body and realized she was correct. Every part of him was clammy with sweat. He pushed back the blanket.

"You're sick," she declared.

"No. I never get sick."

That was when he noticed how scratchy his voice was. His throat was not exactly feeling great either. The ache that had lingered in his head had spread to his ears and throat, leaving him feeling gritty and as though his head had been filled full of sand.

"You are." She stood and he heard her pour out some water. When the wet washcloth struck his head, he cursed aloud. "Stay still. You need to cool down."

When he gave into her attentions, it was not so bad. Her soft voice was somewhat soothing and the way she touched his face made the aches ease.

"Get into my bed. You cannot sleep here."

He shook his head.

"Don't be stubborn. I need you in good health."

"Oh yes, would not want your stone-carrier to get sick. Might as well be a damned donkey," he murmured as she urged him to sit.

Hannah gave him a look. "I would not wish illness on you, even if you had decided not to help, but I will certainly not let you sicken further while in my care."

He gave into her persistent tugs and made his way to the bed. The mattress pressed against bed ropes and cradled his body much better than the one on the floor. He sighed, long and loud.

She stood over him and wrung her hands together. "I should get you some tea."

"No, just sleep. I'll have tea in the morning." He wasn't sure he could get up the energy to sit up for a hot drink. His lids were weighted with stones heavier than the damned artifact. "I'm hot," he complained.

Hannah laid the cloth over his forehead again then dabbed it against the visible skin at the opening of his shirt. He could not help regret he was too ill to enjoy it.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"Know what?"

"I was sick."

"You were muttering my name and tossing and turning." He saw her grin through his half-closed lids. "I knew you had to be sick to be saying my name."

She went to dampen the cloth and laid the frigid coldness over his head again. "I have put out the fire as best as I can and the window is open."

"You'll be cold."

"No, I'll be fine."

He knew she was lying, trying to be brave. It was something he had seen her do the previous evening, and he wondered how often she had played the courageous woman before, particularly in the face of a father who, by all accounts, left her alone since she was a young girl. He grasped her wrist when she moved away.

"Sleep here."

"I will stay by your side."

"No, I mean..." A cough bubbled up from nowhere, and he spent several minutes trying to clear his throat. "Sleep in this bed. With me. You'll stay warm and I...I would like you by my side."

It was not a lie, though it was not something he really wanted to confess to, but if it appeased her enough to get her to stay warm in his bed, he would say it.

Hannah slid onto the mattress next to him, her body rigid. Had he been in better health, other parts of him would be rigid too. She softened slowly. Her hand came to his forehead and then swept down his face. She soothed him with a gentle touch until he could feel the heaviness pulling him under. Red almost did not want to succumb. Part of him wanted to remain awake the entire night to enjoy her tender attentions.