He went to the table to grab a plate when he noticed that a puddle of water sat beneath Carissa’s cloak. He walked over and was surprised to find the hem, not damp, but wet to his touch.
It took him a moment to realize that she had gone out while he had been sleeping. And it wasn’t a brief excursion; the puddle was evidence of that, as was the fact that her cloak had yet to dry.
Where had she gone?
Why had she been gone so long?
He walked back to the bed and stared down at her.
“What are you hiding from me?” he asked.
She moaned and twisted fitfully, as if uncomfortable with his query.
He hunched down beside the bed. “Who are you truly?”
She moaned softly, and what spilled in a whisper from her lips shocked him.
“Ronan, help me.”
He almost lost his footing and fell backward. That was Hope’s voice and it stung at his heart.
“Please, don’t leave me.”
Her hands had reached out from beneath the blanket as if searching for his, and he didn’t hesitate, he grabbed hold of them.
“Stay,” she pleaded.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her, though he wasn’t sure that she could hear him. Nonetheless, he had to tell her just in case she could hear him.
She twisted fitfully once again in her sleep, then suddenly sprang up in bed and grabbed tightly to Ronan’s arm.
“Don’t let him kill him. Please, he is so tiny, don’t let him kill him.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise me,” she pleaded frantically. “Protect him. Promise me.”
“I give you my word. No harm will come to him.”
Her head fell to his shoulder and rested in the crook of his neck. He realized that her fever had spiked. He tried to lay her back in the bed, but she refused to relinquish her hold on him, so he sat there holding and reassuring her.
When he was finally able to tuck her comfortably in bed, he saw that her cheeks once again flamed red. He pulled on his boots and grabbed the empty bucket as he passed the table and headed outside.
He scooped up snow and noticed that gray clouds had grown heavy overhead. He dreaded more snow, especially now, with Carissa needing care. If the weather remained clear, he could at least get her to Bethane.
He hurried inside and sat on the bed beside her. He rubbed small handfuls of snow across her brow and over her cheeks. He did the same to her neck until he was satisfied that she had sufficiently cooled down, He even rubbed a little snow along her hot arms.
The blankets remained off her until he noticed her shiver; only then did he cover her with the lightest blanket. Satisfied she rested comfortably; he took the bucket outside, added more snow to it, and left it just outside the door for future use.
Before heading back inside, he took a moment to survey the area. He couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t alone. Had Carissa gone to speak with someone? And if so, who?
He went inside and finally helped himself to a bowl of stew and a thick slice of bread. He sat in the rocker so that he could keep an eye on Carissa while he ate.
As he enjoyed the flavorful stew, he recalled Carissa’s plea about protecting a tiny…who or what?
He wondered if it had been the fever that made her speak nonsense, or had she recalled a painful memory. Whom had she been trying to protect?
There were far too many unanswered questions concerning Carissa as far as he was concerned. It seemed the more he discovered about her, the more there was to discover.
In all the time he had searched for Carissa, he had only wanted one thing…revenge. He wanted to make her pay and dearly for the suffering she had put him through. Now he wondered if she was truly responsible for his suffering?
He looked over at her in the bed. She slept peacefully and he couldn’t help but wonder yet again who she truly was.
Chapter 18
Ronan tended Carissa all through the night, her fever rising and falling in intervals. She never truly woke though she stirred and spoke incoherently. When the sun dawned and her fever still remained strong, he grew more concerned.
Fearing he wasn’t doing enough for her, he decided the best thing for him to do was get her to Bethane. If he left early and kept a good pace, they would reach the village Black by nightfall.
“Ronan?”
He hurried to her side, her voice full of fear.
“I’m here,” he said, sitting beside her and taking her hand, which was much too hot.
“How long have I slept?”
“It’s almost dawn.”
She shook her head. “The fever remains.”
“I’ve done all I can,” he said, feeling helpless.
“Some fevers simply won’t let go,” she said, as if resigned to her fate.
However, he thought differently. “I’m taking you to Bethane.”