Page 224 of Modern Romance November 2024 5-8

She heard sheets rustling and then a shape emerged before her. Fingers pressed against her forehead.

She could hardly move her mouth to weakly ask, ‘What are you doing?’

‘Checking your temperature,’ he answered quietly. ‘I think your fever has broken.’

‘What?’

‘That is what Dr Internet calls it. It means the worst is over.’

‘My head hurts.’ Hurt so much. Everything hurt.

‘I am sorry. You need to wait another hour before you can take more painkillers.’

A tear rolled down her cheek. She needed the bathroom but didn’t think she had the strength to make it there.

‘I need...’ Her mouth was too parched to get any more words out.

‘The bathroom?’ he guessed.

She gave the weakest nod she could physically endure.

A dim light came on, as if he knew brightness would hurt her eyes.

The strange fog she’d been caught in for so long she didn’t know if hours or days or weeks had passed reclaimed her. In an almost dreamlike state, she let Marcello lift her into his arms.

A strong sense of comfort in the sureness of his steps and the protective way he cradled her allowed Victoria to close her eyes and relax into him.

Faint light pouring in from the opened blind of the window drenched the dark bathroom in a faint glow.

‘Can you take it from here?’ he asked as he gently put her on her feet but kept hold of her so she had his strength as support.

Even through the heavy fog and dim memory of Marcello saving her from Dante’sInfernoby stripping her clothes off her...she had no recollection of him putting the T-shirt she was wearing on her...there was a recoiling of horror at the thought of him watching her use the bathroom. ‘Yes.’

He nodded. ‘I will be right on the other side of the door.’

She wanted to tell him not to listen but the words wouldn’t form.

He smiled, reading her thoughts again. ‘I promise to close my ears. Now put your hand on the sink for support.’

Outside the closed bathroom door, Marcello rolled his neck, closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. It wasn’t enough to stop images of Victoria from dancing behind his lids.

It had taken more strength than he’d known he possessed to cool her face with a wet cloth and pat her dry with a towel, superhuman strength to remain dispassionate whilst manipulating her unresponsive body into the T-shirt. Of all the things he’d done for her, that had been the hardest, only the knowledge that she would be deeply embarrassed to wake virtually naked with him in the room spurring him on. When she came back to herself, she would be embarrassed enough to remember what he’d had to do for her.

The faint sound of fingers tapping the bathroom door had his eyes snap open and his chest swell. Opening the door a fraction, he spoke through the crack. ‘Are you done?’

Fingers appeared through the crack in answer and gripped the frame surrounding the door.

He opened the door slowly, afraid of knocking it into her too-weak body...had it really been less than a day since she’d taken delight in slamming doors on him?

She was pressed against the wall to the side of the door, her cheek resting against the cool tile. He didn’t know if it was a trick of the snow-white light seeping into the room but she was deathly pale.

Dio, even looking as wretched as it was possible for a human to look, she was beautiful.

‘Let’s get you back to bed,’ he said as he cloaked himself with more much needed dispassion and hooked an arm around her. Carefully manoeuvring her so she leaned into him, he added, ‘Can you walk?’

Her head rubbed against his shoulder in a nod.

‘Hold onto me.’

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