Page 43 of The Heir

Westhaven, she realized, was still spooned around her, and the heat was radiating from his body. She shifted away, and he rolled to his back.

He reached for the water glass. “I feel like I came off Pericles at the first jump, and the whole flight rode over me. And it is deucedly hot in this bed.” He rose, wrestling the blankets aside, and sat for a moment on the edge of the mattress as if finding his equilibrium.

“No,” he went on. “I feel worse than that, no reflection on present company, of course.” Without thinking, Anna rolled over to respond and saw him rise, naked as the day he was born, and make for the chamber pot.

“Good morning to you, too,” she muttered, flouncing back to her side, unwilling to be as casual as he about his nudity. He came back to the bed, took a sip of his water, and frowned.

“I am inclined to purchase this property,” he reflected, “but this bed will have to go. I have never risen feeling less rested.”

Anna rolled to her other side, a retort on her lips regarding earls who did not keep their hands to themselves, but she stopped and fell silent. Westhaven was sitting up, leaning against the pillows, his water glass cradled in his lap.

“Oh, my Lord,” Anna whispered, pushing her braid over her shoulder.

“No my lording,” Westhaven groused. “I am quite simply not in the mood for it.”

“No,” Anna said, scrambling to her knees. “My Lord, as in Lord above.” She reached out and ran a hand over his torso, causing him to look down at his own body.

“You were peeking last night,” he said. “It isn’t as if you haven’t seen me unclothed, Anna Seaton.”

“It isn’t that,” Anna said, drawing her hand back then brushing it over his stomach. “Oh, Lord.”

“Oh, Lord, what?”

“You.” She sat back, her head moving from side to side in disbelief. “You’re coming down with the chicken pox.” A stunned beat of silence followed, then the earl’s snort of displeasure.

“I most certainly am not,” he informed her. “Only children get the chicken pox, and I am not a child.”

“You never had them as a child,” Anna said, meeting his eyes, “or you wouldn’t have them now.”

The earl glared at his torso, which was sprinkled with small red dots. Not that many, but enough that they both knew they weren’t there the night before. He inspected his arms, which sported a few more.

“This is Tolliver’s fault,” he declared. “I’ll see him transported for this, and Sue-Sue with him.”

“We need to get you home,” Anna said, slogging her way to the edge of the bed. “In children, chicken pox are uncomfortable but usually not serious. In an adult, they can be much more difficult.”

“You are going to make a sick man travel for hours in this damned rain?” The earl speared her with a look then glared at his stomach again. “Bloody hell.”

“We have few medicinals here, and you will feel worse before you get better, possibly much worse. Best we get you home now.”

“And if the damned gig should slide down a muddy embankment, Anna?” he retorted. “It wouldn’t matter if the chicken pox got me, or a broken neck.”

She turned her back on him for that and went to the window, assessing the weather. He had a point, though he’d made it as meanly as possible. The rain was pelting down in torrents, as it had been for much of the night.

“I’m sorry,” the earl said, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. “Being ill unnerves me.”

“Our situation is unnerving. Is there a village nearby large enough to sport a physician or apothecary?”

The earl grabbed the dressing gown and shrugged into it, even those movements looking painful. “Nearby is a relative term. About a mile the other side of Welbourne there is something large enough to boast a church, but not in the direction of London.”

“Welbourne is where your niece lives.”

“Anna, no.” He rose off the mattress stiffly and paused, grimacing. “I am not imposing on Amery and his wife. You will recall the lady and I were briefly and miserably betrothed. They are the last people I want to see me unwell.”

“I would rather they see you unwell, Westhaven, then see you laid out for burial.”

“Are you implying I am too arrogant to accept assistance?”

“Stubborn.” Anna crossed her arms. “And afraid to admit you are truly ill.”