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Helen was too tired to protest. But she knew clearly that if Ian wanted to travel farther, he’d have to make this journey on his own.

Ian pulled the reins and the horse stopped beneath them.

“Can you sit on your own?” Ian tentatively released her, and Helen struggled to sit up, without leaning against his body.

She nodded. Yes, she could sit on her own. Not for long, but she could.

Ian carefully dismounted and then took her by the waist and lowered her to the ground.

She felt like a helpless child. Perhaps even worse. Laney would demand to do everything herself.

Oh, God. Laney.

She needed to get back to her. Helen took a step and grabbed at Ian’s arm. Vertigo hit her unexpectedly. Probably because of riding on a horse for this long—however long this was.

She was extremely confused, and her stiff joints didn’t help matters at all.

“Come.” Ian bent down and hauled her into his arms.

Helen whimpered in protest, but Ian walked confidently forward, carrying her as if she weighed nothing, not paying her any heed.

Helen laid her head against his shoulder, not feeling like protesting anymore. She’d have to rely on Ian, whether she liked it or not. Whether he liked it or not. Neither of them had a choice.

Perhaps on the morrow, he could find a carriage for her and send her back to London. She wouldn’t be able to make it back on horseback on her own.

She grimaced at the idea of travel in a stiff carriage. It wouldn’t be a pleasant trip either way. But then she’d be home, with Laney.

Ian carefully carried her over the threshold and then took the stairs.

The little cottage was dark, and Helen could not make out any features. She couldn’t tell whether it was an old, moldy house or if it was taken care of on a regular basis. The stairs creaked as they did in any house, and the cold made her shiver. Helen held on to Ian as tightly as she could, feeding off his heat.

He carried her into a tiny room and sat her down on a cold bed with a bare mattress covering its wooden planks.

Helen did not care. She was ready to lie down, close her eyes, and find her bliss in the oblivion of sleep.

She shivered from the cold and ran her hands up and down her arms. The next moment, a warm coat covered her shoulders. Helen brought the lapels of the coat closer together, burrowing inside its heat. It smelled of horses, fresh grass, and him. Helen took a deep breath, inhaling Ian’s calming scent.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasure of warmth and the soft mattress beneath her, if just for a moment before the wave of pain washed over her again.

She whimpered lightly, not wanting to disturb Ian, but unable to keep silent. It wasn’t a terrible pain. Not yet. It was just a stiff ache mostly in her knees and back that cried for her to take a more comfortable position.

There was no comfortable position, Helen knew.

The sound of a striking spark came from somewhere ahead of her. Helen opened her eyes to see Ian crouching before the hearth and her heart rejoiced.

At least, it would be warm.

He stroked the coals and stood as the fire started to spread around the hearth.

“Wait here,” he said as if she was in any position to leave. As if there was anywhere for her to go.

Helen stood from the bed and slowly, carefully walked toward the fireplace. She stretched out her stiff arms, her cold, blue fingers barely straightening.

“It’s not bad,” she whispered to herself. “And it’s going to get better.”

She knew that was a lie. It wasn’t going to get better. Not anytime soon, anyway. It would get worse first. But she needed to keep her spirits up. Even if for Ian’s benefit.

She didn’t want him to see her in such a condition. He’d seen her weak before, but not like this. And soon, the red patches would cover her skin. As it was, the skin on her hands was dry and flaky.