CHAPTER 283: CHAPTER 283 HIGH FEVER

That night, the breeze grew cooler. I pulled my long-sleeved shirt tighter around me and leaned towards the shelter of the hut.

I didn’t dare move too much, though, because Ashton was lying just behind me, asleep.

We were taking turns to sleep half the night each. I tried to stay alert, but my eyelids grew heavy.

Suddenly, a chill brushed my arm. Startled, I opened my eyes. A few droplets had fallen onto the sleeve of my shirt.

Before I could react, more rain came spattering down on me.

The weather changed in an instant.

I sprang up and ducked into the hut. Even so, I couldn’t avoid the downpour completely. My chest, back and legs were soon speckled with drops, and though I wasn’t as bedraggled as a drowned rat, I looked at least half like one. The damp clothes clung to me uncomfortably.

I glanced at Ashton.

He must have been exhausted from the day, because he slept on soundly without stirring.

A shiver ran through me and an itch prickled at my nose.

This was bad. At this rate, I was bound to fall ill. On a deserted island, catching a cold was almost the same as inviting death. Even with Ashton around, I’d be nothing but a burden for days.

I frowned. I didn’t want to be a burden.

My eyes drifted towards the clean, dry clothes in the suitcase. Then they shifted to Ashton’s sleeping figure.

If I wanted to change, I’d have to do it inside the hut. Going back out meant another drenching, which would make changing pointless. But in here, I’d have to do it right in front of Ashton, asleep or not.

A faint dizziness pressed against my temples. I bit my lower lip sharply to steady myself.

No. I couldn’t risk getting sick.

After all, Ashton was fast asleep. He wouldn’t see, and he wouldn’t know.

If I moved quietly enough...

Bolstered by that thought, I stole another quick glance at Ashton, confirming that he was still lost in deep sleep. Only then did I ease sideways, take out a clean set of clothes from the suitcase, and start peeling off the ones I wore.

That day I had been wearing a long white shirt-dress. It was linen, which meant it turned see-through the moment it was wet.

I half-pinned my hair up so fewer drops would run down and soak me further.

One by one, I undid the buttons of the shirt. Soon, only the one near my lower stomach was still holding. It was stubborn, and I tugged and twisted at it, frowning, while the rest of the shirt gaped open and slid halfway down my arms.

There was a sharp snap as the button gave way and flew off somewhere. I groaned inwardly. I’d never been suited to buttoned clothes, always popping them off by accident.

I glanced around, but couldn’t see where it had fallen. With the rain still beating down outside and Ashton asleep beside me, there was no way to look properly. I decided to leave it for tomorrow.

I pulled on the dry clothes quickly, then sat back on the straw-strewn ground and leaned towards the opening. The rain showed no sign of letting up.

Even in fresh dry clothes, the damp night air crept relentlessly into my bones. I hugged my arms to myself and rubbed them for warmth.

As I drew my legs back, I accidentally kicked Ashton.

He didn’t stir.

My thoughts drifted as I studied his face.

It was flushed. His chest rose and fell in an unsteady rhythm.

Sleeping in this stifling hut, he must have felt hot.

Wait. Hot?

At that moment, another gust of cold wind blew through, and my teeth chattered before I could stop them.

I gritted my teeth, shuffled a little closer to him, then leaned in until our faces were only a finger’s width apart. Bending down, I whispered by his ear, ‘Ashton?’

Nothing.

I tried again a few more times, but he didn’t stir.

Outside, the rain had gone from heavy to torrential, drumming against the bark walls of the hut and pelting my back.

My whole back was soaked through.

But I had no time to change. My eyes stayed fixed on Ashton.

Something was wrong.

He was never such a deep sleeper, not even with the storm hammering down.

I reached out and touched him, only to recoil at how scalding hot his skin was.

Panic gripped me.

Ashton had a fever.

I dragged him with difficulty to a haystack further from the door and pulled off his wet shoes.

Then I wrestled his rain-soaked T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Digging through the suitcase, I found my largest T-shirt and slipped it on him.

The rain grew fiercer, and the grass curtain at the doorway was no defence at all. I sat with my back to the entrance, shielding him as best I could from the lashing wind and water.

His trousers were drenched too. I unzipped them and tugged them off, rolling them into a heap. He could never fit into mine, so I pulled one of my long skirts over him instead. What he would think when he woke to find himself in it, I didn’t have time to imagine.

Just then, a low groan escaped him. His eyes stayed shut, but sweat broke out across his brow, his expression twisted with pain.

I searched his body for injuries I might have missed.

And then I saw it.