She stroked the cloth over his face, every part she could reach. Then drew it back to dip in the water again. He turned his head toward her, his eyes still shut. His lips parted in a single word. “Please.”
The ache inside her pulled so tight that she could barely breathe. She quickly wrung out the cloth and laid it over the part of his brow she hadn’t been able to reach before. “I’m here.”
The words seemed to soothe him as much as the cool cloth, although she wouldn’t have thought he’d want her presence, of all people. Maybe he simply didn’t want to be alone during his misery.
Alone as he died.
The idea of his death pierced her own midsection.Lord, please. I wasonly protecting my people.
She soothed the cloth over his face until the fabric grewwarm again, but this time she warned him before drawing away. “I’m going to make it cool again.”
His mouth parted as though he would speak, but then his lips simply worked like he was struggling to moisten them.
Water. Audrey said he needed to drink lots of water.
She reached for the cup. “See if you can take a sip. I’ll lift your head.”
As she slipped her hand into the thick hair at the back of his head, she tried not to let herself dwell on being so near this man. Even ill, he wore a kind of virile manliness like a layer over his skin. The warmth of his body under her fingers stirred her too much. She pressed the thought aside and focused on not spilling the water as she raised the cup to his mouth. When the smooth wood touched his lips, his eyelids raised. He watched the cup as he swallowed once, then lifted his gaze to her while he swallowed a second time.
They were half an arm’s length apart, and she could see every golden fleck scattered through the brown of his eyes. His lips—full lips for a man—were dry and chapped.
His lashes lowered again ... long lashes. How had she not noticed them before? They framed his eyes, probably adding to the intensity of his gaze.
After a third sip, he laid back, and she eased her hand from behind his head.
Her nerves hummed from being so near him. Had he felt a stirring, too? He must be too miserable to feel pleasure of any kind. She needed to escape back to her wall so she could bring order to the churning inside her, but she should cool him more with the wet cloth first. That seemed to settle his pain more than anything.
Her fear of his proximity gnawed at her. She was a warrior.She could sit here and cool the man’s brow if that’s what was needed.
Three more times she wrung the dripping water from the cloth and soothed it over his face until the fabric grew hot. He wasn’t feverish exactly. At least, not that she could tell. His warmth might have come from the exertion of vomiting. The act seemed to have stripped all the strength from him.
At last, his breathing grew even again, so she dropped the rag back into the water and simply sat beside him. Her eyes roamed his features, but sitting here staring at him would do her no good. While he slept, she should retreat to her wall and work on her arrows. She should.
But another length of time passed before she finally made herself push to her feet. By then, every line of his face was imprinted in her mind’s eye.
Now, she wouldn’t be able to forget him, even if she wanted to.
“Brielle, he needs to spend some time in the sunlight.” Audrey had pulled Brielle to the side as Evan ate his midday meal. Nibbled at the meal, anyway. This was the first bit of food he’d attempted since his sickness started the night before. “He should be strong enough to walk now, and I can’t imagine he’s a danger, not as bad as he feels.”
Brielle studied the man, still pale from the illness. Still handsome, despite his dire situation.
He glanced up to meet her look, raising his brows in question.
Did her nonsensical thoughts betray her? She schooled herfeatures. She’d not allow him to think her weak. Especially in that way.
He probably knew they were speaking about him. Audrey spoke in French, but not so loud that he could hear and understand the words if he knew the language.
She shifted her focus back to her friend. “Are you certain he’s strong enough?” He’d vomited only once more after that first time she tended him alone, but the final time had seemed to strip the remainder of his strength. The rest of the night he lay almost lifeless, the gentle rise and fall of his chest the only sign he still breathed.
When Gerald arrived that morning to begin his shift as guard, she left for a little while to take care of her responsibilities in their quarters. When she’d arrived back in this room, Evan had been awake. Audrey had propped his head up and was helping him drink from the water cup.
He seemed exhausted, but his eyes had offered a weary greeting as they tracked her across the room. Awareness of him tightened her insides, but she worked to focus on her duties. Audrey had cared for him in her pleasant, thorough way, and Brielle had to push down the surge of whatever it was that made her want—only for a moment—to take her friend’s place.
The memory rose up completely unbidden from the night before, of the warm strands of his hair sliding across her fingers. It was then that she turned away from Evan to speak to Gerald again.
As much as she should have taken herself far away from the storage chamber, she told Gerald his shift was over. She would watch Evan for the day, and Philip would relieve her at nightfall when his shift started.
Thankfully, Evan had slept the remainder of the morning, and the slumber must have done him good, as evidenced by the way he now sat up and nibbled the pastry.
