The Earl's Keeper

Twenty-Seven: Aftermath

William held her close to his chest, where every beat of his heart thrummed in a note to her. He couldn't stop his hands form shaking as he clutched her cold body. She felt like ice and hardened marble. Inanimate and unreal. Her body was struggling to get warm and he was struggling to get his head around what had just occurred.

I could have lost her.

Her teeth chattered, adding to the cacophony of turning wheels, horses gloves and the screech of metal on wood turning. Those lips, once plush and pink, remained purple-blue. Impulsively, he leaned in and kissed her, chaste and soft, wincing at the frosty bite of her lips. Ice.

"Mia. My love." He pushed damp hair from her face before deftly propping her up on the seat before him. "Let's do something about those wet garments." He was talking more to himself, trying to ease down panic and fear; as if talking himself through his actions would lessen the static jolt of fear claiming his heart.

Wobbling on his knees as the carriage swayed, he stripped her down to skin. Bare flesh was better than the cool note of death those clothes brought. She shifted as a fresh wave of gooseflesh prickled her skin, her hands curled over the seat edge. There was no room to be shy, for she wasn't, especially not in front of him. Besides, she felt too broken for any other emotions to intervene. There was only numbness now.

William shook out his dry shirt and helped her into it, before putting the overcoat around her and buttoning it up, and untucking her hair from inside so it lay on the coat rather than against her skin.

"Wh-what about y-you?"

He looked down at himself in nought but his trousers. He'd left his shoes back there on the outcrop too. He let out a huff of air through his nose, the sound was of wry humour. "You don't like my new look?"

He was rewarded with the barest tilt of her lips, her eyes holding his with care and fatigue alike. He cupped her face with his hands. She nuzzled into his warm, large palms, relishing the small source of heat. "Let me worry about that later. Right now, I need you to stay warm and awake, can you do that, for me?"

She nodded meekly, feeling nauseous and dizziness settle in defiance to his words. Her left side ached terribly and there was no hope of pain dulling as every pot hole and stone encountered by the carriage ride sent a fresh jolt of shock straight to her broken ribs. If a person could crack, this was it. She felt like broken china that would never knit back together as seamlessly as before. The very notion that bones could break was terrifying. To have her ribs, so close to her heart, had William's own palpitating with gripping fear.

William gently settled her back against him and cradled her to his body as the carriage rocked them both. She rested her head atop his and he pressed his lips against her throat, feeling the beat of her pulse. Weak and slow. She will be burning up soon, he could feel it incoming by the draining colour to her face and the feel of her body.

Fever.

The word panicked him. In an age of rudimentary practices and experimental medicines, fever could often mean death. Especially for the injured or the weak.

Mia felt her senses take a back seat as a glazed sort of existence took over her mind. One thing she was aware of though, was the whispering of sweet nothings her husband uttered into her damp hair and the soft caress of his hands and gentle ministrations as he worried over her.

"Will!" She cried out as her ribs let out another spasm of pain.

"Almost home, you can do it, please stay awake, Mia." He sounded desperate. Bad things happened when people were injured and fell asleep. Dark memories stirred in the recess of his mind, and he pushed them back into the box they had crept from. It's how he had lost them both. It had started with fever then, too.