The hand she grasped seemed to stiffen for a moment; she didn't know why.
At this moment, her mind was filled with scenes of her family.
Kind parents, a lively younger sister, a cynical younger brother—they were all people she couldn't bear to leave behind, and yet she had. She had wronged them, oh, how she had wronged them.
"Where's the military doctor! Get him over here, now!" In her delirium, she seemed to hear an impatient male voice, like a clap of thunder, echoing in her ears. The man sounded very anxious, very worried.
Who was that?
Feverish and groggy, Ruby Bluen was almost pushing Marcel Horne from her thoughts.
She whimpered in discomfort.
"Ruby." A strong hand reached out, eagerly yet gently helping her up from the bed. She was then guided into a warm and secure embrace. But as she sat up, leaving the warmth of the blankets, she felt cold. Her body trembled slightly, and those large hands immediately pulled the heavy quilt to cover her.
Marcel? It was him!
