Page 80 of Eight Hunting Lyons (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)

D aniel knew he’d caught Li-Na’s attention. She was not the first woman he’d known to be confused by kindness. In truth, it was a depressingly common reaction. But she was the first one to capture his attention so thoroughly. He thought about her as he was finishing his time with Stefan. He wondered what she was doing when he once again had to carry the stinking Bob Mellin to the stream to bathe him. And he contented himself with thoughts about her when he was helping Widow Greeves catch her wayward pig and then repair her broken pigpen.

But it wasn’t until he was bathing himself in the frigid ocean waves that he allowed his thoughts to wander in a different direction. Specifically, why were the waves so cold? And why was he shaking as he dragged himself onto the very narrow strip of sand. He’d planned to wash his clothes here to get the worst of the grime out, but he hadn’t the strength.

He’d come here specifically to see if Li-Na had created another sand picture. She had not, and what remained of the old one was blotches near the cliff face and flattened sand. He felt no compunction for crawling back onto the beach and resting there while he coughed out the salt that had soured his mouth.

His mind wandered to the letters he needed to write before bed. He’d wanted to do that earlier, but Mrs. Greeves’s pig had changed those plans. Damned creature had run him all over. And now it was late, and he was tired.

Still shaking.

Still coughing. Damnation, had he caught a disease from Bob Mellin? The man had been coughing long after he’d burned the drink from his body.

Whatever the source of the sickness, he now had to climb back up the cliff to get home. He’d planned to take the long route, but his mind was back on Li-Na. He wanted to see her before she went to bed. Had she given in to temptation and started painting? Had Mrs. Hocking fed her something other than a meat pie? The drive to answer these questions pushed him to take the short, steeper path up the side of the cliff.

It was a mistake.

He was a strong man, but halfway up, his body failed him. He had to sit, perched awkwardly against the rocks, while he emptied his stomach. Then he lay against the rock panting. Obviously, he’d caught an illness. Nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure. But he had to get up there to his bed.

It took a very long time.

Long enough for the sun to set and make it so cold his chills became constant.

Long enough for the stars to appear as he clutched every branch of scrub brush to keep him upright as he lurched ever higher along the path.

Long enough for his breath to saw in and out between coughing fits.

Long enough for Li-Na to come outside to stare at the sky. He saw her when he finally topped the rise. He saw her willowy body, wrapped in shadow, jolt when he rasped out her name. And he felt her arms wrap around him.

Had he collapsed? It seemed so because she set her shoulder beneath his armpit and hauled him upright. He helped as much as he could. He forced his feet to step once. Then again. He would not have the woman he wanted to seduce drag him through the dirt to his bed.

“Need sleep,” he said. “Better. Morning.”

She said something in response. He didn’t understand the words, but he heard her voice. It was surprisingly harsh. Didn’t she have a gentle voice? He remembered thinking her words were like music.

Not now. The words were music—tonal and sharp—and in Chinese, perhaps. So he didn’t understand the words, but he knew the tone. She might as well have bellowed, Get up off your lazy arse! It was what he was telling himself.

It didn’t work. No matter how much she chided, and he chastised himself, his feet dragged in the dirt. He dropped to the ground well before his own front door.

Her breath was labored as she knelt over him. He smiled at her through his shivers. “Give me. Minute.”

She cursed. He knew it was a curse, for all that it was in Chinese. Then she stripped off her shawl and wrapped him in it. It was small and did little to ease his shivering, but it smelled like her and that was nice.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll wait here.” He’d close his eyes for a moment. He’d feel better if only he could stop shaking.

He woke when she shook his shoulder.

“Get up! You must get up!” she said.

He was so damned weak.

“Daniel! Now!”

With her help, he rolled to his side. He made it to his knees, but his stomach rebelled. She held him as he gagged up bile. Then she half dragged, half lifted him into a wheelbarrow.

A wheelbarrow. Smart.

He helped as much as he could manage, but his mind would not focus and his limbs would not obey. She picked up his legs and tucked them tight to his shaking body. Then she lifted and pushed, one inch at a time.

He kept thinking this was ridiculous. He was a grown man and would walk himself to his bed. It didn’t happen. Thankfully, the ground was flat, or they’d never have made it inside the castle courtyard and to the front walk of the great hall.

She could not push the wheelbarrow up the steps. Fortunately, rest had helped him.

“I can do it,” he murmured.

He couldn’t. Not until she wrapped his arms around her shoulders and heaved him upright such that he lay heavy on her back.

Strong woman.

He jolted back to awareness when she dropped him onto his mattress. He’d made it to his bed. Thank God. Thank Li-Na. Then he felt her hands on his clothing, stripping it off him with efficient movements.

He would have helped. She wasn’t exactly gentle with him as she tugged and pushed to undress him. But he was shaking too much to do any good.

He was useless, and that was the worst of it all.