Read Online Jamintha by Jennifer Wilde - Free Book Online Page B

no beauty, Cousin Jane. God, I must’uv been smashed!”
    He tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he put weight on his left foot his face contorted with pain. I could see that he was really hurt, and I knew I couldn’t walk off and leave him in this condition. He stared up at me, waiting. I drew back, reluctant to go near him.
    He frowned savagely. “Well?” he said impatiently.
    â€œI’ll help you get back to the house,” I said primly.
    â€œDamned decent of you,” he retorted in a sullen voice.
    I extended my hand. Holding on to it with both his own, he managed to pull himself up, hopping on one foot. We took a few steps and then he stopped and grimaced, trying to keep the agony out of his eyes. His forehead was beaded with perspiration now, and his face was chalk white.
    â€œI don’t think we’re going to make it,” he informed me. His voice was laced with pain, but it was no longer slurred.
    â€œPerhaps I could find the horse—”
    â€œHe’s probably already back at the stables by now.”
    â€œThen we’ll make it on our own,” I replied calmly.
    â€œI’m not so sure. God! Look, I’ll have to have more support. You’re going to have to practically carry me.”
    â€œI’ll do what I can.”
    He slung his heavy arm around my shoulder, almost stumbling as he did so. His forearm hung across my bosom. Reaching for his wrist, I held it in a firm grasp, winding my other arm around his waist. We started our curious progress across the moor. He just managed to hobble along with me supporting most of his weight. His eyes were closed. He was almost delirious with pain, but still we progressed. His body was warm, reeking with perspiration and the smell of liquor, and I nearly stumbled several times myself under the weight of my burden. Brence Danver was silent except for an occasional moan.
    We walked for perhaps twenty minutes. I had to stop for a while. He understood, nodding his head and pointing to a small flat boulder. We managed to reach it, and I helped him ease himself down onto the rock. He sat with his hands resting on his knees. His hair was plastered to his skull in wet locks, and his face was dripping. Sore myself, almost too weak to stand after the terrific effort it had taken to get this far, I nevertheless tore a piece off my petticoat and wiped his face.
    â€œLeave me alone,” he said gruffly. “I don’t want you coddling me.”
    â€œYou have a fever. You’re shivering.”
    â€œIt’s the liquor, luv. I drank damned near a whole bottle this morning.”
    â€œWhy would you do a thing like that?” I asked, appalled.
    â€œYou wouldn’t understand,” he muttered.
    â€œSurely you must realize what you’re doing to your health.”
    â€œDon’t preach, Cousin.”
    â€œYou’re a fool, Mr. Danver.”
    â€œYeah, and you’re a bloody little prig.”
    He closed his eyes, too weak to say anything more. I wiped his face thoroughly and brushed the damp black locks away from his forehead. His shirt, soaked with perspiration, was clinging to his skin, and he continued to shiver in the wind. I was deeply worried, realizing how urgent it was to get him back to the house as quickly as possible. Eyes closed, his cheeks flushed a feverish pink now, Brence Danver moaned. His lips were dry, the skin beginning to chap. It was hard to believe he was the same man who had pulled me into his arms a short time ago.
    After a few minutes I helped him up and we started off again, his arm looped around my shoulder as before, his big body sagging, leaning heavily on me. It was difficult going, and Brence Danver was giving me no help at all now. I was half dragging him, certain that my knees would give way at any moment. Every step was a strain, and it was painful, but there were other sensations I couldn’t properly identify. I should have been repelled by his