It was Colin, but he sounded strange, his voice low and raw. Was he with someone? A girl like the one downstairs?
No, she wouldn’t believe that. She knocked again.
“Damnation, go away!” The curse was followed by a hacking cough.
Sinjun felt a spurt of fear. She gripped the door handle, and to her immense relief it wasn’t locked. She pushed the door open and walked into a small entrance hall. She looked to her right into a long, narrow drawing room that was well enough furnished, she supposed, but impersonal, without any individual character. It called up nothing of Colin. Nothing of anyone except perhaps a musty gentleman from the past century. She called out, “Colin? Where are you?”
She heard some cursing coming from beyond the drawing room. She hurried now, pushed the door open, and came face-to-face with her betrothed. He was sitting up in the middle of a rumpled bed, quite naked, the sheets drawn only to his waist. Sinjun stood there a moment, just gawking. Goodness, he was big, and there was black hair all over his chest, and he looked strong and muscular and lean and she couldn’t stop staring at his chest and his arms and his shoulders, yes, even his throat. There were black whiskers on his face, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was standing on end. He looked quite wonderful.
“Joan! What the hell are you doing here? Are you out of your damned mind? Are you—”
His voice was a croak. Sinjun was across the room to him in a moment to stand by the side of the bed. “What’s wrong?” Even as she asked him, she realized he was shaking. And she’d been standing there staring at him like a half-witted fool. “Oh goodness.” She pushed him back down and pulled the covers up to his chin. “No, no, just hold still and tell me what’s wrong.”
Colin lay flat on his back, looking up at Joan, who was trying to look like a boy, which was ridiculous. But perhaps it was the fever; perhaps she wasn’t really here, perhaps he’d just conjured her up.
He said tentatively, frowning, “Joan?”
“Yes, love, I’m here. What’s wrong?” She sat beside him and laid her palm on his forehead. He was hot to the touch.
“I can’t be your love,” he said. “It’s much too soon. Damnation, I’m tired or something, and weak as a day-old pup. Why are you pretending to be a boy? It’s silly. You have a woman’s hips and long legs that aren’t at all remotely like a boy’s.”
It was an interesting avenue of conversation, but Sinjun was too scared to be sidetracked. “You have a fever. Have you been vomiting?”
He shook his head, then closed his eyes. “Have you no damned sensibilities?”
“Your head hurts?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you felt bad?”
“Two days now. I don’t feel bad, I’m just tired.”
“Why didn’t you send for a doctor? For me?”
“I don’t need anyone. It’s just a passing fever, nothing more. I was out in the rain, at a boxing match on Tyburn Hill. I’m just tired.”
“We’ll see,” she said. Men, she thought, as she leaned down and pressed her cheek to his. They couldn’t bring themselves to admit to any weakness. She drew back. The heat was incredible. His eyes flew open, but she said as she gently laid her fingertip on his lips, “No, don’t move. I will see to everything now. When did you last eat?”
He looked as irritated as his voice sounded. “I don’t remember. It isn’t important. I’m not hungry. Just go away, Joan. It’s vastly improper for you to be here.”
“Would you leave me if you found me sick and alone?”
“It’s altogether different, and you know it. For God’s sake, I’m bare-assed.”
“Bare-assed,” she repeated, smiling at him. “My brothers have never said that before. No, no, don’t frown at me or curse at me anymore. Just lie down and I will see to things.”
“No, dammit, just go away!”
“I will, and I will soon be back with help. Lie down and keep warm, Colin. Now, would you like some water?”
His eyes lit up and he nodded.
Once he’d drunk his fill, she said matter-of-factly, “Do you need to relieve yourself?”
He looked ready to spit. “Go away.”
“All right.” She leaned down and kissed his mouth and was gone in the next moment.