"Yes, sir, I'll see to it myself, sir." Thornton went to work at the fireplace, scrupulously keeping his back to the tub.

After a few more minutes John was satisfied that the chill had been removed from Belle's skin, but he didn't doubt for a moment that she still felt icy from the inside out. He lifted her from the water, tenderly dried her skin with a towel, and laid her in his bed. He pulled the covers up over her, tucking her in as he would a child. After a few moments, however, she began to shiver again. John placed nis hand on her forehead. It was warm, but if he wasn't mistaken, it would be burning within the hour.

He sighed and sank into a chair. It was going to be a terrifyingly long night.

***
She was so, so cold. Why couldn't she get warm? Belle tossed and turned in the large bed, her body instinctively rubbing against the sheets to create heat.

This was awful. The pain had returned, and every muscle and joint in her body ached with it. And what was that strange clattering sound? Surely that couldn't be her teeth? And why was she so damned cold?

Gritting her teeth against the exertion, Belle forced herself to open her eyes. A fire was burning steadily in a fireplace. A fire. A fire would be warm. She pushed aside her covers and crawled down to the foot of the bed. Still too far away. With agonizing slowness, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She looked down at herself in confusion. Why wasn't she wearing any clothes? No matter, Belle decided, tossing the thought aside. She just had to concentrate on that fire.

She let her feet touch down on the floor, and immediately her legs wobbled beneath her. She tumbled down, landing on the carpet with a painful thud.

John, who had dozed off in the chair he had positioned at her bedside, came awake instantly. He gaw the empty bed and jumped to his feet. "Belle?" He looked around the room frantically. Where could she have possibly gone in her condition? And naked, to boot.

He heard a pained groan from the other side of the bed and hurried over. Belle was lying on the floor in a tangled heap. He leaned down and picked her up. "What on earth are you doing down there, love?"

"Fire," she rasped.

John looked at her blankly.

"Fire!" she repeated a bit more urgently, giving him a feeble shove.

"What about the fire?"

"I'm cold."

"You were trying to warm yourself?"

Belle sighed and nodded.

"I think you should stay in the bed. I'll get you more blankets."

"No!" Belle yelled, and John was taken quite aback at her forcefulness. "I want the fire."

"I'll tell you what, why don't I put you in the bed, and I'll bring you a candle to have nearby."

"Stupid."

God help him, he nearly laughed. "Come on, darling. Let's get you back in bed." He laid her down and pulled up the covers, swallowing nervously as he tucked her back in. She had been so funny and adorable that for a moment he had been able to forget just how serious her condition was.

But he couldn't keep kidding himself. Only a miracle would keep a fever from settling into her weary body, and John was not a great believer in miracles. She was definitely going to get worse before she got any better.

Belle was still restless. "Water," she croaked.

John pressed a glass to her lips, using a towel to wipe away the water that dribbled down her chin. "Is that better?"

Belle licked her parched lips. "Don't leave me."

"I won't."

"I'm scared, John."

"I know you are, but there is nothing to worry about," he lied. "You'll see."

"I'm not so cold anymore."

"That's good," he said encouragingly.

"My skin is still a little cold, but my insides-" She coughed, and her entire body shook with spasms. When she finally settled down, she completed her thought. "My insides are hot."

John fought back despair. He had to be strong for her. He had to share this battle with her. He wasn't sure she'd be able to do it alone. "Shhh, darling," he said soothingly, rubbing his palm softly against her brow. "Go to sleep now. You need to get some rest."

Belle drifted away. "I forgot to tell you," she mumbled. "I forgot to tell you this afternoon."

This afternoon? Lord, John thought, that seemed an eternity ago.

"I forgot to tell you," Belle persisted.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"Always love you. Doesn't matter if you love me back."

And for once, he didn't feel that odd choking feeling.

Chapter 21

From his position next to the bed, John looked down at Belle, worry clouding his expression. It had been several hours since she'd awakened and tried to crawl to the fire. She was still shivering, and her fever had steadily worsened.

She was in a bad way.

There was a perfunctory knock, and then the door to the room opened. Caroline entered, lines of worry etched clearly on her face. "What happened?" she asked in a urgent whisper. "We just arrived home, and Thornton told us Belle is ill."

John reluctantly let go of Belle's hand and escorted Caroline out into the hall. "Belle went for a walk and was caught in the rain. She hit her head." He recounted the rest of the details briefly, leaving out the argument that had prompted her to run outside in the first place. He'd only met his in-laws a day earlier. If Belle wanted to tell her parents of their troubles that was fine. He, a virtual stranger, was not going to do so.

Caroline's hand strayed nervously to her throat. "You look terribly tired. Why don't you sleep? I'll sit with her now."

"No."

"But John-"