Kijani was immensely relieved as Mr. Croil seemed to come back to the present. He snatched a blanket from her and started to dry himself. It seemed to take ages. Part of her wanted to help him, because he seemed to be having such difficulty. It was no wonder- his fingertips were a sickly pale blue. Hers were barely better, but at least she was alert. Helping him would mean breaking a cardinal rule, though. She couldn't touch him, not that way. It would be... unthinkable.
Even he seemed to still be aware of that, as he mumbled for her to turn away. She did so with great speed, heat rushing to her cheeks. She could still hear him shuffling and trying to get out of his clothes, which lead to all sorts of thoughts and questions that a sensible, proper young woman should not be thinking about! Especially not at night... in the dark... alone with a man who was not properly dressed. Kijani rubbed her reddened face with both hands, trying to take the warmth of her embarrassment and give it to her fingers. She didn't move, and tried hard not to think.
Mr. Croil's shivering voice pulled her out of herself, and she peeked slowly on one side to make sure he was properly covered. Once she saw that it was safe, she turned and listened to what he was trying to say. Something about blankets. A horse blanket? Why would he want such a filthy thing? Then she understood, all in a rush. “Yes, share the blanket, share the warmth! I read this in one of my novels! Stay there, just... don't sleep.” She rushed off, picking her way through the dim light and trying to find the blanket.
It took her five precious minutes, several stubbed toes and more than one splinter, but Kijani came rushing back with the horse blanket billowing behind her. It smelled like animal sweat and hay, but it was thick, wool, and most importantly, completely dry. She knelt and pulled it from her own shoulders, wrapping it around Mr. Croil quickly. “There.” Leaning back once he was fully covered, her arms went reflexively around her body as she tried to keep herself warm. “A-are you still awake, Mr. Croil? Please don't... don't rest. I heard that if you sleep when you are this ill, you stand a chance of not waking up ever again.” Her hands moved in a fidgety motion that was strangely warming.
“I really would rather you not die. So, as a request from a lady to a gentleman... don't.” She chuckled, but the noise of mirth was weakened by a bout of violent shivering. “I-if I tell you a story, will you s-ss-sss-” She let out a sneeze that racked her whole body. “Ouch. Will you stay awake?”
Even he seemed to still be aware of that, as he mumbled for her to turn away. She did so with great speed, heat rushing to her cheeks. She could still hear him shuffling and trying to get out of his clothes, which lead to all sorts of thoughts and questions that a sensible, proper young woman should not be thinking about! Especially not at night... in the dark... alone with a man who was not properly dressed. Kijani rubbed her reddened face with both hands, trying to take the warmth of her embarrassment and give it to her fingers. She didn't move, and tried hard not to think.
Mr. Croil's shivering voice pulled her out of herself, and she peeked slowly on one side to make sure he was properly covered. Once she saw that it was safe, she turned and listened to what he was trying to say. Something about blankets. A horse blanket? Why would he want such a filthy thing? Then she understood, all in a rush. “Yes, share the blanket, share the warmth! I read this in one of my novels! Stay there, just... don't sleep.” She rushed off, picking her way through the dim light and trying to find the blanket.
It took her five precious minutes, several stubbed toes and more than one splinter, but Kijani came rushing back with the horse blanket billowing behind her. It smelled like animal sweat and hay, but it was thick, wool, and most importantly, completely dry. She knelt and pulled it from her own shoulders, wrapping it around Mr. Croil quickly. “There.” Leaning back once he was fully covered, her arms went reflexively around her body as she tried to keep herself warm. “A-are you still awake, Mr. Croil? Please don't... don't rest. I heard that if you sleep when you are this ill, you stand a chance of not waking up ever again.” Her hands moved in a fidgety motion that was strangely warming.
“I really would rather you not die. So, as a request from a lady to a gentleman... don't.” She chuckled, but the noise of mirth was weakened by a bout of violent shivering. “I-if I tell you a story, will you s-ss-sss-” She let out a sneeze that racked her whole body. “Ouch. Will you stay awake?”