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Sweat coated Ashton’s brow, and his fevered murmurs broke Rosalind’s heart. She held her breath each time Ashton’s chest rose and fell, fearing it would be his last.
The illness had claimed another three lives in the village since Ashton and Rafe had fallen ill three days ago. Terror had swept through Lennox House, but Rosalind had refused to leave Ashton’s side. Her heart lodged in her throat whenever he lay too still in his sheets.
He had tossed about restlessly for the last hour before sinking into another frightening silence. His breathing had become shallow and his skin clammy to the touch. Every muscle in Rosalind’s body tensed as she studied him, searching for any sign that he was slipping away from her.
You won’t leave me, Lennox. Not like this. I demand a fair fight with yo
