Page 46 of Two Blessings For His Duchess
Nathaniel’s expression softened further. He took a slow step closer to her, his shadow falling over her as the space between them narrowed. “What if I do not want to sleep?”
“Go lie down still,” she replied implicitly, squaring her shoulders against his proximity.
“But what if I simply do not want to?” he teased gently.
Euphemia squinted her eyes at him, tilting her chin up. “Do you take a specific joy in arguing with me?”
“Perhaps,” Nathaniel murmured, his lips curving into a smile. “Do you also take joy in arguing with me?”
“Perhaps,” she admitted softly.
They shared a lingering smile, the banter melting away the remaining awkwardness of the past fortnight. Nathaniel took a shallow breath, his posture relaxing slightly. “Truly, Euphemia, you do not have to worry. If I were entirely unable to continue, you would know.”
“All right,” she conceded, though her eyes still lingered on his pale face. “Will we see you for dinner, perhaps? It is almost time.”
Nathaniel glanced back at the mountains of paperwork on his desk and shook his head reluctantly. “Probably no. I shall have my dinner brought here to the study. I do not wish to leave just yet, lest I lose my train of thought in what I am doing.”
Euphemia sighed, knowing there was no use in pushing him further today. “All right. Have a good night then.”
She turned and quietly made her way out of the study, closing the heavy oak door softly behind her. Walking down the corridor, a lingering thread of worry for his health still tugged at her mind, but it was outweighed by a blossoming happiness.
There was no friction between them.
After days of agonizing, they had still managed to have a good, easy conversation. The fear that had haunted her for two weeks... the dread that they would inevitably go back to being awkward strangers around each other instantly evaporated into the evening air.
The darkness of Nathaniel’s bedchamber was absolute, but the heat consuming his body felt like a living, suffocating thing.
Every muscle in his frame was locked in a dull, radiating ache, and his spine felt as though it had been forged from lead.
When consciousness finally dragged him up from the depths of a restless, dreamless sleep, it was not the pain that woke him, but a sudden, strikingly pleasant sensation.
Something incredibly cool and soothing was resting against his throbbing forehead.
Nathaniel didn’t open his eyes just yet. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, lined with a burning grit that made even the thought of light agonizing. He slowly lifted a heavy arm, his fingers reaching upward to touch his brow to investigate the sensation.
Instead, his knuckles brushed against a soft, damp cloth, and then his fingers closed around something else, a small, slender hand that was holding the cloth in place.
His grip tightened instinctively on the delicate wrist. Nathaniel forced his eyes open, blinking through the heavy shadows of the room until his vision finally focused.
Euphemia was seated on the edge of his mattress.
The dim light of a single candle on the bedside table cast her features in a soft light. As he stared up at her, the undeniable reality of his physical state crashed down upon him. The room seemed to tilt slightly, a wave of dizziness washing through his head. She had been right. He had stubbornly dismissed her warnings in the study as mere exhaustion, convincing himself that a difficult fortnight and a few hours under the afternoon sun were all that ailed him.
But the fierce, violent shivering that suddenly racked his chest told a completely different story. He was down. He was undeniably, thoroughly sick.
Yet, looking up at her, a profound confusion clouded his fever-ridden mind.
“Euphemia?” he asked, trying to confirm if he was dreaming or not.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered softly. She didn’t pull her wrist from his grip, but her other hand gently adjusted the cool cloth, pressing it firmer against his burning skin.
“What... what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to sit up, though his body instantly refused the command, pinning him flat against the pillows.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, her eyes searching his face. “I was worried about you. I decided I would simply check on you to ease my mind, and it seems my instincts were correct. Your fever has spiked terribly.” She offered him a small, almost apologetic smile as she dipped a second cloth into a basin of cold water on the nightstand, wringing it out with a soft splash. “I am trying to bring your temperature down. You are practically radiating heat.”
Nathaniel shook his head slightly against the pillow, a faint groan escaping him. “You do not need to do this. I am fine. I shall have a servant summon the physician first thing in the morning. You should not be awake. Go to bed.”
“No,” she replied instantly. She gently replaced the warm cloth on his forehead with the freshly cooled one, the icy shock of it making his breath catch. “You do not get a say in this matter at this point, Nathaniel. I told you that you were ill, and you refused to listen. Frankly, you look far too tired to fight me about it right now.”
