A wild rush of emotions drove the cold from Holt's body as he held Lizzie. Relief, concern and swirling hope all tangled with one another until he couldn't begin to say what he felt.
"Give more drink," Paquette said.
Holt steadied Lizzie, not releasing her until he was sure she wasn't going to fold like a towel dropped on the floor.
She pulled in a long breath then moved to her father's side and held the cup to his lips. He roused enough to drink some more.
The night deepened. Emma crawled into bed without being told...mostly because no one thought to tell her. Paquette wrapped her fur around herself and slept near the stove. Edwards had taken the horses to the barn and said he would wait there. Only Holt and Lizzie remained awake, giving Mr. Tate the dreadful smelling drink and watching desperately for signs that he was getting better.
He sweated profusely, which Paquette said was a good sign. Then, toward the thin dawn, he opened his eyes.
"Lizzie," he murmured. "There's a bad taste in my mouth."
She laughed and gave him water. After he drank, he closed his eyes with a contented sigh, the fever broken.
Lizzie sagged and Holt caught her. Tremors rattled her teeth. He wrapped his arms about her and held her tight, absorbing the tremblings with his body. She clung to him, filling him with a sweet, terrifying knowledge. He loved her. When he left he would leave behind his heart.
And he would have to go. Staying would bring about nothing but his own death. Perhaps even endanger the lives of Lizzie and her family. Perhaps at some future date God would see fit to allow his name to be cleared. But until then his love was a worthless thing....
She clutched his shirt front and lifted her face to him. "I was so scared. What would we do if he...?" She swallowed back the word.
"Hush, God has answered our prayers."
The fear in her eyes shifted. Her gaze drove into his soul, searching out his hidden feelings. He tried to mask them, tried to resist the deep longing that rose within him—and failed at both. He bent his head and caught her mouth with his own. The kiss was barely a touch, but he would carry the taste of her sweet mouth beneath his for the rest of his life.
Then Paquette stirred and they sprang apart. She rolled up her fur and shuffled to Mr. Tate's side to touch his forehead and run her fingers down his neck. "He be better. Feed him plenty good food. Keep warm."
Emma scrambled down from the loft. Checked on her pa. "He's better?"
Paquette patted Emma's head. "He soon be telling you to mind manners."
They all laughed, as much from relief as amusement.
A few minutes later Edwards came in. "The snow has stopped but it's frightfully cold."
"You're welcome to stay," Lizzie said.
"Only until the sun climbs higher. No telling when it will turn worse."
Holt knew he should be making the same announcement. Get going while it was still possible. He had fulfilled his promise to Mr. Tate, he owed them nothing.
But now something stronger than his honor held him here. An emotion so fierce it would keep him with Lizzie at least until he was sure Mr. Tate could take care of Lizzie and her sister again. Even if it meant his life.