“Not yet,” she argued.
He saw that she dug her hands and her bare feet into the snow. As helpless as she was, she still managed to attempt to do for herself. She was stubborn, or was she courageous? One described Carissa, the other Hope, but they were one woman.
“No more,” she said shivering.
He lifted her up and held her close as he hurried into the cottage and shoved the door shut with his foot. It was only then he realized that his own feet were bare and damn cold.
He ignored the icy sting and rushed her to the bed. He didn’t need to be told to undress her, but she continued instructing him.
“Take my clothes off.”
“This one time I will oblige you.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I always loved your humorous nature.”
Her remark surprised him, and he warned himself to ignore it. It meant nothing; after all, her ruse had merely been a game. He concentrated on getting her out of her clothes, which didn’t take long.
She shivered the whole time he undressed her, her flesh cool in spots and warm in others. If he had been disrobing her for a far different reason, he would have taken his time and been more attentive to every inch of her tempting body. Damn she was tempting. And damn him for even thinking it.
He finished quickly and lifted her in one swoop, gently depositing her on the bed and tucking the blankets around her.
“What now?” he asked.
“Warm your feet before you come down with a fever.”
He couldn’t believe she had noticed that he was barefoot or that she was concerned for his welfare when she was the one ill.
“I’ll see to it, but first what else can I do for you?”
“I need you to prepare a special brew”—Her eyes began to close, and she shook her head to keep alert. “I’ll explain how to do it, and if I grow hot again, rub my face and neck with snow.”
“You sound as if you are leaving instructions for me while you go somewhere,” he said with concern.
“I will sleep, and you may not be able to wake me.”
He could see that her eyes had already grown heavy, and no doubt she would be asleep soon. He had to know all he could before she slumbered.
“What do I do?”
“What I told you.”
He was astonished how hard she fought to remain awake even though her body seemed of a different mind.
Through pauses and shakes of her head, she instructed him how to prepare the brew and to make certain he gave it to her, even if he just dribbled some in her mouth.
“I’ll take care of you,” he assured her.
“Care for Hope,” she whispered, her eyes closing. “You love her.”
Ronan sat on the edge of the bed, in no hurry to leave her. He simply stared at her. Was there even the remote possibility that she could possess a thoughtful nature like Hope’s rather than a hellion nature like Carissa’s?
He shook his head as he stood and walked over to the table to mix the brew and set it to simmer as she had instructed. It wasn’t until he sat in the rocker warming his icy feet that he allowed his thoughts to return to Hope.
He grumbled, “There is no Hope.”
He recalled what his mother had told him when he was young and feeling hopeless over what now he would consider a trivial matter, but to a young lad had been a life-or-death situation.
His mother had told him that hope resided in the heart, and you only needed to trust and believe for its magic to work.
Did he dare trust and believe?
He shook his head. Carissa was a mean-spirited woman. How could he ever trust or believe she was anything other than what she was? But if he was to find out the truth, at least a truth that fully satisfied him about Hope, wouldn’t he have to do just that? Trust and believe?
He certainly would have the chance to discover more by taking Carissa home with him. But she would only remain there until Cavan passed judgment on her. Cavan wasn’t one to take long in making a decision, especially an important one. Would that give Ronan sufficient time?
He turned to look at Carissa. Her cheeks weren’t burning red any longer, though she remained pale. And he couldn’t understand how suddenly she appeared so vulnerable to him. He had never imagined Carissa weak. She was the epitome of strength, mean-spirited as can be, but nonetheless she was brave. She seemed to let nothing stand in her way.
Yet suddenly she needed protecting, much as he had when Hope had come into his life. And oddly enough, he felt the need to protect her. Was it simply inherent in a man to want to protect a woman? Or did he feel the need to keep her safe for a far different reason?
He grew tired of all the conjecture, all the questions, all the doubts.
He stood and stirred the simmering brew. He spotted the cauldron of stew and moved it off the flames. It smelled delicious, and no doubt would taste the same. Carissa had a remarkable way with food, and there hadn’t been anything that she had cooked that he hadn’t enjoyed.