“I'm usually a bit more impressive,” Robert joked.

Victoria couldn't keep her eyes to herself after that comment. “Oh!” she said, startled. “That's not what I expected at all.”

“It certainly isn't what I like to see, myself,” he muttered.

She blushed and turned away. “Into the bed with you,” she said, trying for a normal voice but not quite succeeding.

He tried to explain as she herded him into the bed. “When a man gets cold, he—”

“That's quite enough, thank you. More than I need to know, I'm sure.”

He smiled, but the chattering of his teeth marred the effect. “You're embarrassed.”

“You noticed,” she said, crossing to the wardrobe. “Have you any extra blankets?”

“There is one in your room.”

“I took that down with me to the beach. I must have lost it in the water.” She shut the wardrobe door and turned around. “What are you doing?” she nearly shrieked. He was sitting up in bed, having made no attempt to pull the quilts over him. He'd crossed his arms and was clutching himself.

He just stared at her, unblinking. “I don't think I've ever been this cold.”

She yanked the covers up to his chin. “Well, you're not going to get any warmer if you don't use these blankets.”

He nodded, still shivering uncontrollably. “Your hands are freezing.”

“They're not nearly as bad as yours.”

“Go change,” he ordered.

“I want to make sure you—”

“Go.” His voice was quiet, but it did not lack authority.

She paused, and then gave a brief nod. “Don't move.”

“Wild horses couldn't—”

“I mean it!” she warned.

“Victoria,” he said, sounding infinitely weary. “I couldn't move even if I wanted to, which, incidentally, I don't.”

“Good.”

“Go!”

She threw up her arms. “I'm going, I'm going.”

Robert allowed himself to sink farther under the bed sheets once she left. Good Lord, he was cold. When he'd left for a swim, he'd never dreamed that the sky would whip up into such a ferocious storm. He clamped his teeth together, but they clattered anyway. He hated being so dependent on Victoria, especially when she had to be freezing cold herself. He'd always loved being her knight in shining armor—strong, brave, and true. Now he was wet, cold, and pathetic. And to add insult to injury, she'd finally seen him naked, and he did not have much to show for himself.

“Are you still under the covers?” Victoria yelled from the next room. “If you get out of bed, I'll—”

“I haven't moved!”

He heard a grunt that sounded something like “Good.” He smiled. He might not like being dependent on Victoria, but there was something to be said for being fussed over.

He pulled the covers tighter around him and rubbed his feet against the sheets in a vain attempt to warm them up. He could barely feel his hands, so he shoved them under his buttocks, but as his rear was equally cold, this didn't do much to help. He pulled the blankets up over his head and breathed heavily on his hands. This brought some momentary relief.

Footsteps pattered in the hall for a moment before he heard Victoria say, “What are you doing under there?”

He poked his head out just far enough to see her. “It's warmer under her.” Then he looked a little more closely. “What are you wearing?”

She made a face. “You might recall that I neglected to bring a change of clothing.”

He wished his face was warm enough to smile.

“All I had,” she continued, “was this nightgown you gave to me. And this quilt I pulled off the other bed, for the sake of decency.” With a rather matronly sniff, she pulled the aforementioned quilt more closely around her body.

Robert's eyes rolled heavenward as he moaned, “I must be even more ill than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Victoria rushed to his side, perched on the edge of the bed, and brushed his hair aside as she placed her hand on his brow. “Are you feverish?”

He shook his head, his expression beyond pained.

“Then what is the matter?”

“It's you,” he croaked.

Her eyes widened. “Me?”

“You. In that gown.”

She frowned. “It's all I had.”

“I know,” he moaned. “It's my wildest fantasy come true. And I'm too damned miserable to even want you.”

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “It serves you right, in my opinion.”

“I had a feeling that would be your opinion,” he muttered.

“Are you any warmer?” she asked, assessing him rather unsympathetically.

He shook his head.

Victoria stood. “I am going downstairs to prepare you some broth. I assume there is food in the kitchen?”

He looked at her blankly.

“Food?” she repeated. “In the kitchen?”

“I think so,” he said, not sounding at all certain of himself.

She stared at him in disbelief. “You abducted me and forgot to stock the cottage with provisions?”

His lips stretched into a decidedly weak smile. “I might have.”

“Robert, this is so stunningly unlike you, I don't know what to think. You've never forgotten a detail in your life.”

“I sent word to the caretaker that I would be arriving, asking him to prepare the cottage. I'm sure he brought food.” He paused and swallowed. “At least I hope he did.”

Victoria stood, a stern, governess-worthy expression firmly in place on her face.