Day Eleven: 8:23am

In the two days since Malcolm's death, Jo could count on one hand the number of words she had said to Lucas.

On the morning of the third day she woke later than usual, but still felt excessively tired. She sat up and moved to get out of bed, then hastily stopped in her tracks. Her head was spinning and her body felt so unbearably heavy. After a few seconds she put her head back down on the pillow and decided to stay there for a little while longer until she was feeling better.

**

She didn't wake again until the evening, and when she did Lucas was sitting by her bed, looking at her with a slightly amused expression when she opened her eyes. She tried to get them to focus properly on his face.

"Evening," he greeted her.

She looked at him, confused for a moment, "it's not evening."

He glanced at his watch, "I make it 6:49pm. I think you'll find that nine out of ten citizens of this fair country would agree that is usually considered to be evening."

"Oh," Jo replied, looking mildly surprised, "I didn't realize it was so late. I should get up," she started, until a combination of Lucas putting his hand on her arm to stop her form moving and a bout of sudden dizziness put a stop to that idea.

'I think not," Lucas replied firmly. "The best place for you right now is in bed."

She lay back down. After a little while the dizziness passed, but then she became uncomfortably aware of the fact that Lucas was sitting in a position that was really very close to her. And worse still her body was damp with perspiration. She had only a thin petticoat she had found and washed in one of the castle rooms and a pair of knickers beneath it and the petticoat was almost transparent and was clinging to her in a most revealing way. She hastily pulled at the sheet she vaguely remembered casting aside thinking it was making her far too hot, and brought it up to cover her.

"How are you feeling now?" Lucas enquired, noting that her temperature had given her cheeks a rosy blush, and her eyes a slightly glassy look, making her appearance look even more doll like than usual.

"Tired. And a little hot," she replied.

Lucas nodded, "you seem to have a bit of a fever. I've been trying to keep you cool by sponging you down."

"Sponging me down?" Jo murmured, not liking where the conversation appeared to be going.

"Yes well, you kept muttering that you were too hot, and I was trying to keep you cool."

"Sponging me down with my clothes on you mean?" she repeated hopefully,

"Well, yes with your little getup on, though you did get rather tangled at times and your present outfit doesn't really leave much to the imagination," he replied, watching her with an amused expression.

She looked at him crossly, then looked down blushing, "You are so not a gentleman, Lucas North."

"Ah, well there," he said with a charming smile, "I would have to disagree with you – after all haven't I been taking excellent care of you today? And all with no thanks or appreciation. And I didn't think you'd be too concerned with false modesty seeing as you must remember I've seen it all before," he replied, still looking like he wanted to laugh.

At something that was not amusing to her.

"Well, you're not likely to see it again," she muttered crossly, well aware of the fact that she ought to be grateful to him but his shameless teasing was making it difficult to be gracious.

She could see him smile at her comment and then he turned away and murmured, "I beg to differ," very softly to himself – so softly in fact that she wasn't sure whether she had misheard him.

Though she still didn't feel well she was in control of her senses enough to wonder whether Lucas could possibly be any more irritating. Or insufferably arrogant. That was, she thought, if she had heard him correctly. Which she wasn't sure she had.

Lucas continued with a grin, "anyway you could do worse than my care - for example I could have followed the advice of Doctor Rupert Fitzherbert, Esquire, and carried out his prescribed cure for a bout of fever which involved repeatedly immersing the patient in ice cold water and, of course, the rudimentary course of leeches. He was extremely learned for an eighteenth century physician, you know."

"No," Jo replied hastily, "no leeches," her eyes widening in fear at the thought of those evil slimy little creatures being attached to her body like limpets and slowly sucking away her blood until there was nothing of left of her except for a pale shell.

Lucas smiled and leaned forward to whisper softly in her ear, "don't worry, I wouldn't let anyone leech you sweetheart."

Jo nodded, relieved and noticed that when she moved her head it had begun to ache once more. And her throat was sore and now her eyelids were heavy again. She leaned back and rested her head against the pillow and Lucas raised a glass of water to her lips and gave her little sips of it which helped to ease the burning sensation in her throat. After she had finished it she was finally allowed to give in to the tiredness which had overwhelmed her and close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

**