Tempest's Embrace

Chapter 12

He had finally fought the battle with sleep until the wee hours of the morning when he felt her tossing and turning. 

Still, in a sleepy haze, he turned to face her; puzzled by her behavior. She mumbled with distress and whimpered lightly. He lay awake noticing as she lightly brushed against him, her skin was extremely hot.

He gently leaned up on his elbow and reached for her. Her body felt stiff as she shivered and she continued to mumble. He turned away quickly to light the lantern beside him. A warm glow lit enough of the cabin to cast light on her as he looked down and cupped her cheek.
"Tempest, open your eyes," he whispered, growing concerned with the heat on her cheeks.

Her teeth slowly began to chatter and she began to shake. Fever had seared a film of perspiration across her forehead. Her face felt hot to the touch, and her hands that she placed above his, were cold and clammy.

He cursed. His jaw tightened.
He did not need this now. They had nothing on the ship to aid her.
He needed to think. He looked around and immediately looked her way as she whimpered breathlessly.

He stared at her. His fingers raised once more to her cheek and her gaze gently fell on his. The haziness and her lackluster gaze were a silent plea to help her.
With a sigh, he stood up and removed his breeches, slid beneath the sheets, and pulled her flush against him.

He held her tight as she violently shivered in his hold seeking his warmth.
He pressed his lips to her forehead whispering heatedly how stubborn she was for refusing the dry clothing.
Closing his eyes, he felt her shiver more as he rubbed his finger over her bareback; murmuring words of comfort he did not believe she understood. He focused on the unsteady breaths and whispered his prayers for her to recover quickly.

"Do not dare die on me," he whispered.  "I beg you."

********

By early dawn, he found himself frantically sponging her off with cool water. To his dismay, her fever was ablaze and rampid that she was now delirious.

He gave strict orders that no one was to enter his cabin. With that, he was confident they would not disobey his orders. He sat beside her and pressed a cool cloth to her brow.

"You must fight this. Is that not what you're good at?" he snapped under his breath. " Fighting? Being stubborn and difficult?" he bit out angrily wishing for the challenging gaze in those eyes of hers to meet his.

He lowered the cloth once more into a bowl of water and slowly pressed it to her fevered skin worried about the rising heat on it. She tossed and turned more. The effort to keep her beneath the sheets was fruitless as she tossed about miserable and drenched in sweat.

Frantically, he needed to think quickly as an agonizing whimper escaped her lips then she hugged herself. Her face contorted with discomfort until he lowered the cool cloth to her shoulders. His gaze lowered to her bare leg as he idly lowered the cloth to it. She settled slightly with the cool cloth there and he realized then that he needed to cool all of her down.

He deliberated on what he was to do. What he should do to help her.
Damn it!!! He stepped away. He looked at her. She was weak, defenseless, and in agony. He bit his lip warring with doubt in his mind. What use was it? For her stubbornness, she most likely would die.
As a heartless sailor he strived to be, his eyes narrowed. He would most likely have to throw her corpse overboard.

Bloody hell!!!

He could not do that he did not have the stomach to do it. He stepped closer to her without a second thought, reason won. She was delirious. She will never know.