“It’s all right.”
He carried her down the mountain. Even though she weighed very little, it was no easy task. Linley’s head rested limply against his shoulder, and Patrick could feel the heat burning through her sweat-soaked blouse. They stopped twice so she could vomit, but now it only came out in gut wrenching dry heaves.
They reached the monastery, and Patrick shuffled across the stone courtyard. He, too, was covered in sweat and his arms ached. From inside the main building, he heard the monks chanting.
“Tell them to be quiet, Patrick,” Linley whispered. “They hurt my ears.”
He smiled and kissed her matted brown hair, which lay plastered against her head. Christ, she was burning up! Patrick pushed his way through the side door and carefully made his way up the steps to her room.
As he did, Archie passed him in the corridor. “What’s going on here?”
“She’s ill.”
“I’ll get Bedford,” he said, hurrying down the stairs and out of sight.
Patrick made it to her room and laid her on her narrow cot. He placed her camera and the bag she carried next to her leather pack on the floor. Before anyone came in, he leaned down and whispered, “Tell your father you have a rash, but don’t mention that I know anything about it.”
Linley nodded, her head barely moving against the pillow.
“Button!” Her father burst into the room. “My God, what has happened?”
Patrick stepped out of the way, letting the man get closer to his daughter’s bedside. “We were hiking down from the top of the mountain and she fell ill.”
Sir Bedford looked up at him, concern slashed across his features. Before he could unleash a torrent of questions on Patrick, Linley lifted a weak hand and placed it over her father’s. “A rash,” she whispered. “I have a rash.”
“A rash? What sort of rash? Where?”
She moved her hand to her chest, patting the space just above her breast.
Her father ushered everyone out of the room, and then pulled the curtain that served as the door closed behind them. Patrick and the others stood in the corridor. He leaned against the cool stone wall, not wanting to meet their gaze.
“What happened up there?” Reginald asked.
Patrick closed his eyes. “She became ill. One moment she was fine, the next she could barely stand. I brought her down as soon as I could.”
“Funny she should get sick with you,” Archie said. “I saw her this morning and she seemed fine.”
“I told you.” Patrick opened his eyes and leveled them on Archie. “She was fine until we were coming down.”
The curtain to the room pushed aside, and Sir Bedford stepped out into the hall. “She does have a rash. Not a very large one, but it is there.”
“What does that mean?” Reginald asked. “A rash could be almost anything.”
Linley’s father nodded. “We will just have to keep an eye on it and see what happens.”
***
She slept the rest of the afternoon, but when Patrick peeked his head into her room, Linley sat up and invited him in.
“Sorry I got sick in front of you,” she said. “I am humiliated.”
“Please, don’t be,” he said, “I’m just glad to see you are feeling better.”
Patrick sat down on the edge of her little cot. Linley and her father had been given the only beds at the monastery, although they both swore the floor was more comfortable. Sitting on it then, Patrick was apt to believe them.
“You’ll never look at me the same again,” she groaned.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I get sick all the time, especially if I drink too much beer or eat too much treacle. It’s one of those natural parts of life that cannot be helped. And if you don’t believe me, the first thing I’ll do is get ripping drunk off cheap beer and prove it to you.”
Linley laughed a weak little laugh. “I rather like treacle.”
“So do I, and that is the problem. I could eat it by the bowlful.”
They both laughed that time. Linley slipped her hand across the rough blanket and laced her fingers through his.
“Patrick,” she said, growing serious. “You don’t think I…that you got me…that it could be the reason…I might be…”
Pregnant. A word so dreadful, a possibility so awful, that it could not even be spoken.
Patrick cleared his throat. “It’s too early. The symptoms would show up in weeks, not hours.” He scooted closer to her on the bed and leaned down to her ear. He’d apologized a half dozen times for finishing inside of her that first time. He got quite carried away, which was understandable, but still no excuse. “If you are, we’ll see that it is taken care of.”
Linley nodded. A baby would not do for either of them.
Patrick sat up. “Now, other than taking that off your mind, what else can I do for you? How can I make you feel better?”
She gave him a wink. “You could finish what you started on the mountain top.”
“Oh, no,” he said. “None of that until you are well again.”