“I’m fine, thank you. Please excuse me.”
With one last nod, Dare strode from the ballroom.
Chapter Fifteen
Leonora’s eyes flutteredopen. Around her, the chamber was dark, except for the small sparks of embers still alight in the hearth in her chamber. How many hours had it been? How many days? She couldn’t say. Her mind was still much too fuzzy.
She shouldn’t have been so stubborn. She should have changed into warm clothes the moment she’d arrived home after their little adventure in the rain. Then she wouldn’t have felt so miserable.
She struggled up to her elbows, her limbs sluggish. Blinking against the haze, she turned, searching for the water Heart had placed beside her bed.
“Leonora.”
The voice—deep, unmistakable—cut through the fog in her mind.
A yelp tore from her throat, her heart lurching as she whipped to the other side of the bed, clutching her nightgown as if it could serve as armor. Her gaze instantly locked on a man who most certainly should not be in her chamber! Certainly not in her bed! Yet here he was, lounging on top of the covers, fully dressed, save for his shoes, as if he had every right to be there. He was propped up on one elbow. Watching her.
Her pulse pounded. “Dare? What on you doing here? Wait, no,howare you here?”
“Are you thirsty?” He rolled off the bed and padded over to the decanter, filling a glass with water and handing it over. Her eyes followed his every movement.
“Thank you.” She took the glass and soothed her parched throat with big gulps of water. Satisfied, she placed it back on the table.
He sat down on the bed beside her, reaching out to place the back of his hand against her forehead. “Still warm.”
Leonora stared at him, all sorts of foreign sensations flitting in her body. “How did you get into my room?”
“The balcony,” he said softly.
She glanced at the double doors. She could have sworn she’d locked them. Her gaze swung back to him. “Are you Romeo?”
His lips quirked, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Impossible.”
“Why?”
“That would mean that you are Juliet, and she has much too tragic an ending.”
“Him too.”
“He is not the one who matters in the story.”
She shuffled back against the pillows, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck. “Oh? Well, you still have something in common, don’t you? Climbing up into bedchambers.”
“This is my first time.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
Something unreadable flashed in his gaze. “You should. This is the first time I’ve ever snuck into a woman’s chamber. However, I’ll admit,” he chuckled, “I have a skill for sneaking out.”
He dipped a cloth in the washstand and cleansed the sweat from her face. The coolness was a blessed relief against her overheated skin. His touch was gentle, unhurried. Leonorawanted to ask what he was doing—or why he was doing it—but she was afraid if she did, he would stop, so instead, she asked, “How did you know I wasn’t feeling well?”
A dark look crossed his face. “Lady Leeds said you had the sniffles. This is not the sniffles. You were almost on fire when I arrived.”
“So you’ve been keeping vigil over me?” A rake caring for a lady. This certainly was moment for her diary.
“Someone had to.” He set the cloth aside. “Someone did.”
She settled deeper into the pillows. “I dismissed my maid earlier. It was just a small fever.”
