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As they lay on the narrow bed, Mary could tell that Vander did not actually need her body heat. The shivering was not from cold, and his clammy skin felt cold but hid that he was burning up. His temperature was not dangerously high but was significantly raised. His clothes were damp with sweat, and he was muttering in his feverish half-sleep. She lay across his chest and felt his heart hammering, as if trying to leap through his ribs into hers. She rolled off him, aware that she was elevating his temperature further.

‘Don’t go.’ Vander grabbed her wrist in his hand.

‘I’ll be straight back. I’m getting you some water. Let me get it. This is something I know about: heartbeats, blood, fever.’

Vander smiled faintly. ‘Come back soon.’

Mary made sure he saw her nod, and he released her wrist. Quickly she gathered a bowl of water and the cloth Vander used to wash with. She wet the cloth and wrapped it around his neck above the pulse of blood travelling near the surface of his skin.

She pulled off his clothes, and he neither resisted nor helped. Reapplying more water to the flannel, she felt his temperature beginning to stabilise. ‘Small steps,’ she whispered.

Vander pulled her down next to him.

She tried to pull away. ‘I’ll raise your temperature again. The water will be a waste of time.’

‘I don’t care. I don’t want to be alone.’

She gave in and lay down.

‘Vander?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I know I act like a child …’

‘Hmm.’

‘But I’m not. I am grown-up in some ways.’

Vander opened his eyes to look at her. ‘Are you taking advantage of my illness?’

‘Yes, I think I am.’

She put her hands either side of his face and lowered her face until their noses touched.

‘What colour is it?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Let’s find out.’