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Chapter Six
Belle didn’t know when she slipped into sleep, but it was the pain that woke her up. As she opened her eyes, feeling oddly dazed, the roar of the rain overhead filtered in, then the heat of her body only heightened the throbbing pain of her ankle. She inched to reach down and touch it, as if that would help.
“Stephen,” she called out. But her voice was too feeble. Her lids were drooping, her consciousness threatening to slip away. She forced herself to stay awake.
He won’t hear me. The rain is too loud.
Frustration pricked her at the realization. She couldn’t go to him, couldn’t even move, but she knew she needed help. She was too hot, her body drenched in sweat, and the pain in her ankle was unreasonably overbearing. She needed him, although she wasn’t sure what sort of help he would be able to provide.
Belle mustered all her strength for one last shout. “Stephen!”
She didn’t know if it worked. She stared at the door he’d gone through not too long ago, willing him to come out to her. When it opened, she wondered if it really was because he heard her, or if it was because she had simply willed him into existence.
“Hannah?” He came closer and sank by her side.
Her eyes fluttered as she tried her hardest to focus them on him. His image blurred before her, but even so, even with the dim lighting caused by the roaring storm, she was still struck by his handsomeness. His jaw was sharp, his mouth small and currently in a tight line as he pressed a hand to her forehead. Belle’s heart skipped a beat when he cursed under his breath, and his dark, bushy brows furrowed in concentration. Her fingers twitched with the sudden urge to reach up and smooth away the frown.
“You’re burning up,” he told her, his voice sounding oddly distant. “I didn’t know the sprain would have been that bad.”
“Well, you did say you weren’t a physician,” she mumbled as she dragged her gaze away from him. She settled her eyes on the ceiling, trying to fight the wave of darkness threatening to consume her. She could feel her consciousness slipping and falling under was the last thing she wanted right now.
“Hannah.” Again, his hand was on her face, against her cheek. Her eyes shot back to him and her heart jumped when she realized just how close he had gotten. “You need to stay awake. Your fever is too high. You need to cool down.”
“It hurts,” she told him. She was sweating, she realized.
How vain is it to worry about sweating in front of him when I’m in so much pain?
“I know.” Another hand, on her arm this time. She couldn’t look away from him. Stephen’s green eyes were soft, tender, as if he could feel every throbbing pain coursing through her. “And as soon as this storm blows over, I’m going to get you to a physician, all right? But you have to stay with me.”
She tried to laugh, but she didn’t think it came out the way she intended it. “I doubt I’m going to die before the storm ends,” she said.
Stephen’s brows only dipped deeper, as if he wasn’t sure about the odds. She ignored it.
Belle focused instead on his presence, the warmth of having him next to her, by her side. With him here, Belle felt she could fight the pain and the wave of unconsciousness just a little longer.
“Keep your eyes open, Hannah,” Stephen told her, pressing another hand to her forehead. “I’m going to see if I can get any water. Don’t go back to sleep.”
“I can’t make any promises,” she panted, eyes drifting close to further prove her point.
He tapped furiously on her arm. “Do you like to sing, Hannah?”
She tried to frown at the sudden question and failed miserably. “I’ve…never thought myself much of a singer.”
“But you must have a song you fancy, don’t you? I’d like to hear it. Can you sing it for me?”
She looked at him, saw that he was trying to smile. Belle didn’t quite feel like singing right now. She wanted to sleep, to give into the urge no matter what the consequences might be. She wanted to escape the pain as quickly as she could.
But she sang instead. It was an old tune, one her governess would sing to her at night to lull her to sleep. She didn’t remember much of the words and, now that she was singing it after such a long time, she realized that it wasn’t quite the easy-going song she first thought it to be.
Yet, Belle fell into the song. She got caught up in the lyrics, in the sad ballad that told the tale of lovers who could not beat the odds set against them. Lovers who had been doomed from the start. Belle continued to sing, and when it was over, she started again, her eyes pricking with tears.
Stephen settled back at her side, putting a hand on her arm as if to signal that he was here. She stopped singing and swallowed against the lump in her throat.
How embarrassing. I got too caught up in the song.
“Is that your favorite song?” Stephen asked her as he pressed a cool, damp cloth to her forehead. Belle released a sigh at the refreshing sensation.
“It was the only one I could remember,” she said. “My…Mother used to sing it so me when I was little.”
