Ashton was already moving before the maid had finished speaking.
He took the stairs four at a time and reached the second floor in a matter of seconds.
Not stopping to catch his breath, he shoved open the bedroom door.
Mirabelle was buried under a pile of thick duvets, her face flushed scarlet.
Her skin had been bloodless just half an hour ago, ghost-pale and ice-cold after she'd nearly drowned.
Now she looked like she was overheating from the inside out.
Her eyes were screwed tightly shut.
"She started heating up a while ago," the maid behind him stammered. "I got a thermometer and... it's forty degrees and climbing."
Ashton strode over and pressed the back of his hand to her cheek.
She wasn't just burning up; her skin was scalding.
He just picked her up—du
