Page 94 of The Unlikely Pair
And then we’re inside, the door slamming shut behind us, the howling of the wind fading to a muffled roar. I lower Harry gently to the floor, my arms aching with the effort.
But I can’t collapse like I desperately want to.
Instead, I force my numb fingers to work, making them frantically remove Harry’s wet coat, then his suit jacket and trousers.
It scares me how pale his skin is, like bleached bone.
“It’s okay. We’re in a shelter now. We’ve got this, Harry. I’ll get you warmed up soon, I promise.” I find myself babbling. “I’ll light the fire. It’s easy now without the wind. And there’s some firewood here. Thank God whoever owns this cabin left a whole pile. They even chopped some kindling, which will make a nice change from pine needles.
“You’re not going to sleep, Harry. Stay awake, okay? Tell me about the Conservative tax policies. Although, on second thought, that might make you fall asleep even faster.”
I’m trying the tactic he uses on me, baiting him into responding, but his eyes don’t open.
“Harry.” I give the side of his face a small slap.
“I’ve always wanted to do that, but not quite in these circumstances.” I give a choked laugh. “Come on, Harry, wake up.”
He still doesn’t open his eyes, so I lean forward and give him a desperate kiss.
Blue eyes fly open. But his eyes look hazy, out of focus.
“You can’t go to sleep quite yet, okay? You’ve got to stay with me, Harry, all right?” I say.
“All right,” he mumbles.
I race to the fireplace, almost sobbing again when I find matches and a fire starter.
Within seconds, I’ve thrown some kindling into the grate, and I have the fire lit and am back at Harry’s side, frantically stripping off my clothes with bumbling fingers so I can get skin-to-skin with him.
“If you wanted to get naked with me, you just needed to ask. You know that, right?” I’m pressed against his body now, rubbing him frantically, trying to get the circulation back into his limbs.
The small fire is starting to crackle, and there has never been a more beautiful sound.
I leave Harry momentarily to throw more wood on the fire, but then I’m back to him.
I notice the bed is covered with a heavy quilt, so I yank that off, hauling it across the floor to Harry by the fire. I spread it over his slumped-over form, then crawl in next to him.
“It’s like making a hut, isn’t it?” I rub his body vigorously with my hands. “Did you ever make a hut when you were a kid? I’m guessing that’s something you never did at boarding school, right?”
Harry’s shivering violently now, his body wracked with violent tremors that seem to go on forever. I pull him more into a sitting position, wrapping myself around him, as I rub his back, his arms, his chest, trying to infuse him with my own warmth.
“Okay, so this isn’t quite as much fun as I usually have rubbing you, but I’ll take what I can get right now.”
There’s a small sound from Harry’s lips, which I take as a laugh. Without thinking, I find myself leaning forward to deposit a kiss on his shoulder.
“That’s it. We’ll get you warmed up a bit more, and then I’ll work out how to heat up some water, and I’ll make you something hot to warm you from the inside.”
I crane my neck around to survey the cabin. I’m inside a shelter for the first time in two weeks. But I don’t notice anything about the cabin besides what I can use to warm Harry up.
Because nothing matters but Harry.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Harry
I’ve never been so cold. It’s a pervasive, deep-seated cold, like I’ll never be warm again.
My brain feels made of cotton wool, and I’m viewing everything through a tunnel.
