Page 139 of Modern Romance Collection March 2025 (1-4)

Any medicine, she thought frantically. But first she should call for help.

No one knew where they were. From the dim strip of light coming through the shutters, it had to be daytime by now. And she felt as if she’d been sleeping for hours since she and Rene had…

The blush burned her cheeks.

Okay, maybe don’t think about your ill-advised sex-fest while he could be dying.

She dived for her jacket, found her phone zipped into the pocket. Dead. Needless to say, she hadn’t thought to pack her charger when they’d left the car. Next, she searched the pockets of Rene’s coat, only to discover his phone was dead too.

She looked around the shadowy room. The furnishings were luxurious and expensive, the space beautifully designed. So, the lodge had to be in regular use.

She ignored the wrenching sensation as she left him lying on the floor in a pool of sweat, still shivering.

It took her less than two minutes to discover the chalet’s mains power and phoneline had been knocked out by the storm. She searched the ground floor, which included a guest bedroom, a kitchen and a cold storage locker full of frozen food—well, at least they wouldn’t starve—and then the master bedroom on the mezzanine level, but had no luck finding a phone charger.

Right, back to plan A, finding medicine and water. Because they were on their own, it seemed, until the storm cleared. She’d done first aid training a couple of years ago—what they needed was antibiotics or, failing that, some antiseptic and anti-inflammatories. And painkillers. Hopefully, it was only a localised infection.

She would need to clean the wound. Why hadn’t she done that last night, before falling asleep in his arms? Or, better yet, when she’d woken up in the hours just before dawn, instead of deciding to have unprotected sex with him?

She pushed the renewed wave of recriminations to one side.

So not helpful, Mel.

She rifled the cabinets in the guest bedroom’s bathroom, becoming even more frantic when she found nothing, not even a stray toothbrush. The main bedroom’s bathroom was equally bare, other than a sealed box of condoms.

Bit late for those.She pushed that thought to one side, too.One catastrophe at a time, Mel.

Then she remembered the utility room they’d walked through to get into the house.

She raced down the corridor and skidded to a stop in the doorway before she tore her feet to ribbons on the broken glass strewn all over the floor. After putting her boots on, she tiptoed through the glass to search the room. She hooted with joy when she found a brand-new first aid kit tucked next to the emergency generator.

Bingo!No antibiotics, but bandages, antiseptic, a thermometer and a ton of painkillers and anti-inflammatories.

After filling a glass from the kitchen with cold water and a bowl with gloriously hot water—the generator was a godsend and no mistake—she headed to the living area with the first aid kit under her arm.

Rene was still flat out on the rug, groaning—and not in a good way this time.

She set her cargo down beside him, then pressed the button to open the room’s shutters. The storm cut out most of the daylight but added a pearly glow.

‘Don’t worry, Gaultiere,’ she whispered as she plonked herself on the rug next to him. He didn’t react. Day-old stubble darkened his jaw, making him look like even more of a reprobate than usual. But he also looked strangely fragile… The way he had seemed on their first night when she’d asked him about the scar and a look had flashed in his eyes—both vulnerable and defensive—before it had disappeared.

She blinked to control the rush of memory, and emotion.

Okay, maybe don’t go getting delusional again. This is still Rene—the thoughtless, entitled egomaniac—he’s just an injured, feverish, thoughtless, entitled egomaniac who saved your life, and canstilltempt you to make daft decisions.

‘You’re not going to die on my watch,’ she whispered, going on to repeat the words he’d said to her in the Jeep, what felt like a lifetime ago now. She found the thermometer and placed his head in her lap to tuck it under his tongue. ‘Because we’ve still got a ton of arguments in our future.’

But as she brushed the sweaty hair back from his brow, her fingertips grazed the old scar and the disturbing emotions—which had driven so many foolish decisions, not just four years ago, but in the early hours of this morning, too—pushed against her chest once more.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘DON’T HURT ME. Not again… Please.’ Pain lanced through Rene’s head and seared his soul. Why did his father hate him so much? He’d tried so hard to be the son he wanted, a good prince. But, no matter what he did, the punishments, the rages, the tests he could only fail still came. Always.

The familiar fear consumed him, but then gentle fingertips brushed his forehead.

‘It’s okay, Rene. Just drink this. It’ll help. I swear.’

The voice was so cool and strong it dragged him away from the searing heat, and the childish terror.

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