His words played through Carter’s mind, and he laughed bitterly. Yes, Scarlett would probably be more comfortable at home, but she was here, in the house of her adversary, whether or not she realized Carter was her enemy. Shaking off his strange mood and his worry, he instructed Ann to keep a close eye on Scarlett, and closeted himself in the study for the rest of the afternoon.
Later that evening Ann came downstairs. “She’s thrashing, and her fever is up, Mr. Braxton.”
“How high?” He removed his reading glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.
“One-hundred-and-two, sir. Dr. Weiss left a page of instructions, but I’m concerned.” Ann wrung her hands helplessly.
He took the stairs two at a time. Why hadn’t he checked on her sooner? Scarlett was lying in the bed, her face flushed and sweaty. He looked at his watch, realizing Ann had already stayed on an hour past her shift. “You can go home. I’ll deal with this.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ann nodded her head and left the room as Carter returned his attention to Scarlett.
She was sweating and had soaked through her thin cotton nightshirt. Carter read the instructions Dr. Weiss had left, deciding a tepid bath was in order. He left the water running and returned to the bedroom. With a determined expression, he stripped the gown from her body and forced himself to ignore the tempting flesh displayed underneath.
He knew Scarlett would be furious with him when she regained her senses, but there was no other choice. He lifted her from the bed and carefully carried her into the bathroom. Her skin was silky against his, even with the sweat beaded on her forehead.
After sponging her in the cooling water for half an hour, Carter took her temperature again, pleased to see it had fallen by a degree.
Gratefully, he laid her on the bed and rummaged in the dresser until he found a pink cotton nightgown, which he slipped over her head. He tucked her under the covers and sat with her until her eyes opened a few hours later.
“Carter,” she said in a soft, dreamy voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone from fever, but for just a moment, he allowed himself to pretend it was desire that had wrought the change. He wanted to lean forward and kiss her sweetly pouting lips, but restrained himself.
“Yes, Scarlett?”
“I don’t feel well. Can I have some water?” As a result of the inflammation, her voice held a smoky, seductive note.
Resisting its siren song, knowing it was the illness that made her sound so sexy, Carter rose to his feet to bring her a glass of water from the bathroom. He supported her as she drank from the cup, and when he set it aside, his face was inches from her own. He stared into her fascinating purple eyes and grew hard with desire. He hadn’t held a woman for over a year, and none of the women in recent years had ever been this tempting. “Scarlett,” he said, clearing his throat.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, moaning low in her throat. “Carter,” she whispered against his lips.
He pulled away from her as she fell back to sleep. This wasn’t real, it was just the fever.
None of this was real.
It couldn’t be.
This was a business arrangement, nothing more.
7
Scarlett
For three days, Scarlett stayed in her room, recovering from her illness and dealing with the humiliation of kissing Carter. She still did not understand why she’d done such an impulsive, stupid thing, and was perfectly willing to chalk it up to her weakened state.
Carter had made a point of avoiding her for the past three days, and Ann had been her only companion, bringing her meals and taking care of her. She protested when she came in to find Scarlett dressed and walking to the door. “I’m much better now,” Scarlett said in a still-scratchy voice. In truth, her ankle hurt more than her throat, and though she felt slightly light-headed, she needed to escape the room for a while.
Ann hovered behind her as Scarlett limped down the stairs and into the breakfast room. She le
ft to bring in the food, and Scarlett was sitting in silence when Darren joined her a few minutes later. “Morning,” she said with a ghostly smile.
“You’re up,” he said with some surprise. “Are you sure you feel like—”
Scarlett waved her hand, “Yes, I’m much better, and so is my ankle. I’ll be taking this thing off in the next couple of days.”
“That’s good to hear,” Darren said, looking pensive. “Uh, Carter hasn’t been in a good mood the last three days,” he said abruptly.
“Really?” Scarlett inquired in a cool tone as Ann placed a steaming bowl of oatmeal before her. “Maybe he was deathly concerned over my illness. He wouldn’t want to lose such a large investment,” she mocked.
“I was just warning you,” Darren said and turned his attention to the food. They were eating in silence when Carter came striding in.