Scandalous by Candace Camp Read Free Book Online

about the heroes in her novels? How very odd. What she had imagined for them seemed quite tame right now.
    She went into the kitchen and splashed water onher face. It was cool against her heated skin, and she smoothed it down her face and onto her neck. She remembered his hand there, sliding like silk, like molten fire. Priscilla closed her eyes. This was not helping much. Sternly she straightened, opening her eyes, and wiped the water from her face.
    She had to be practical, she reminded herself. The man in the other room was sick and needed her. She had to help him, not stand around thinking crazy things. He was a stranger to her, as she was to him. What had happened was a product of his delirium, nothing else. He had not even known who she was; he had thought she was someone else, no doubt someone from his past. Why, he hadn’t even thought she was a decent woman; he had obviously thought she was a woman of the streets—talking about paying her and calling her one of some madam’s girls.
    Priscilla walked back to the door of his room and looked in on him. He was curled up into a ball, the blanket pulled up to his shoulders, and he was visibly shivering. His fever had turned into the chills again.
    Priscilla hurried into the room and spread two of the extra blankets over him, pulling them up to his shoulders and tucking them in. He said nothing, just continued to shiver so hard his teeth were chattering. His eyes were closed, and now and then he let out a small moan. There seemed nothing dangerous about him now; his size, and the firm swell of his muscles, only made a mockery of his strength. Priscilla hovered close, frustrated by how little she could do to help him.
    But it was not long before he was pushing the covers aside again, sweating and mumbling incoherently as he tossed and turned. Priscilla managed to keep him onthe cot and covered most of the time, but it was a tiring task. In his delirium, he continued to try to get up, no matter how many times Priscilla planted her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down on the bed. But at least he no longer thought she was one of the occupants of a brothel.
    She poured him another draft of the tonic. It was a bitter battle getting it down him, and finally he knocked it out of her hand and sent it crashing onto the stone floor. While she was cleaning it up, he got out of bed and staggered around the room for a while before she was able to persuade and cajole him back into bed. It was a relief when he fell back into a chill and huddled in upon himself on the cot.
    So it went the remainder of the night, with her patient passing from fever to chills and back again, and Priscilla worriedly watching him, forcing him as best she could to drink the draft and trying to keep him covered, as the long hours passed. Finally, when dawn was first beginning to appear on the horizon, Priscilla awoke with a start and realized that she had fallen asleep sitting up in the chair. She turned immediately to her patient.
    He was sleeping, his arms flung out over the cot, and the blanket lay over him almost up to his arms. He was still, and for one horrible instant she thought he was dead. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest, and she realized that, though his face was still tinged with a flush, he was sleeping peacefully. She jumped to her feet and hurried over to lay her hand on his forehead. It was warmer than normal, but far less so than it had been during the night. His fever had broken.
    Priscilla let out an enormous sigh of relief and sank down onto the floor. Her knees suddenly felt like rubber.She leaned her forehead against the cot, weak with relief. In the aftermath of tension, her muscles began to tremble, and she realized, amazed, that there were tears spilling out of her eyes.
    A hand touched her head, gliding softly over her hair. Priscilla raised her head, startled, and found herself staring straight into a clear green gaze.
    â€œAre you all