She shrugged her shoulder and shook her head as if to rid herself of his touch, but he persisted until all of a sudden her hand whipped toward him from seemingly out of nowhere. She must have sought to push him away, but he caught her just in time. “No,” she said, her voice more forceful than before. “I won’t let you!”
Hardening his own tone in the hopes of breaching the wall that separated her from reality, he told her sternly to wake up as he gave her shoulders a hard shake.
Lucy was no longer twelve years old. She was a grown woman standing in a dark alleyway, her feet bare upon the hard, gravelly dirt and her knee aching from the fall. Looking up, she saw her mother—her profile perfectly framed by the arched window. And then her back was suddenly toward her, and a man was there, a man so elegantly poised and all dressed in black, his face covered by an ugly, black mask. And then there was blood…lots and lots of thick, dark blood. It was flowing out of the window and down the wall toward her. “Mama?” she called out again, but all she heard in response was laughter, hideous and mocking laughter. Her mother was no longer there, but he was. He was looking down at her, and she realized that he’d taken off his mask. It made no difference though, for he had no face, this man who’d so often turned her dreams into nightmares. There was just a blank head.
She wouldn’t run this time, she told herself—would not allow him to chase her away. This was her chance, her moment. She could hear him calling to her. “Lucy…Lucy…” Turning toward the sound, she spotted him. He was alone now and in the alley coming toward her, still holding the blade that he’d used on her mother, except she somehow had that blade now, and…oh, she could see his whole body grow tense as she served him a menacing smile. He’d already taken everything she cherished and loved away from her. She had nothing to lose, and so help her, if this was the last thing she ever did, she would put an end to this vile abomination of a man.
Running toward him, with her arm raised and eyes squeezed shut, she lunged at his neck, the blade sinking deep. Her eyes sprang open, and he was somehow there, unscathed, and shaking her, his hands tight about her arms as he spoke her name.
She immediately screamed and began to struggle, the bed sheets twining their way about her legs in a jumbled mess, but her attempts at escape made him grip her only harder than before. “Shh…shh…it’s all right, Lucy. It was just a dream, that’s all. You’re safe now.”
William?
Opening her eyes, she found herself staring back at her husband’s handsome face. Her breathing was still ragged, her heart still pounding against her chest as he lifted her enough to hold her against him, and as he did so she lowered her head against his shoulder, reveling in the firmness of his embrace. With slow, even strokes he ran his hand over her hair, and she couldn’t help but think that she had truly done him a disservice by forcing him to marry her. He was far too good a person to be burdened by her problems.
It felt good though, this moment between them. There was a tenderness about it that made her wish things could be different between them, and she suddenly realized that she was crying—whether from the shock of her nightmare or from knowing that she longed for something that would in all likelihood never be hers, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to stay this close to him forever, and she wondered what it might take for her to right the wrong she’d made.
Complete honesty.
He must have sensed that she’d somewhat recovered from her moment of fear, for he eased away a little and reached for the glass of water sitting on a tray beside her bed. Picking it up, he held it to her lips and helped her drink. “Are you all right?” he then asked, concern marking his eyes.
She nodded her head. “Yes. Thank you, I…I sometimes suffer from bad dreams.”
“Would you like to share this particular one with me?”
She considered it but eventually decided against it. Their marriage would require work before she dared to share such personal details about herself with him. In fact, the thought of sharing what she’d gone through with anyone at all—of reliving each and every detail of that fateful night with a vividness that would surely be unavoidable—terrified her. As it was, the only person she’d ever spoken to about it was Constance. And even though she’d avoided going into too much detail then, it was not an experience she wished to endure again anytime soon, least of all with a husband who held her in low regard. So, rather than say anything, she slowly shook her head, averted her eyes, and fixed them upon her hands. “It was nothing really, just…” She shook her head again, drawing a deep breath. “Nothing.”
She sensed him stiffen next to her and reluctantly looked back up at him, noting that he had eased back a little, and she quickly attempted a smile. “I’m sorry, I just…”
“Not to worry,” he told her gently as he gave her hand a little squeeze. “Would you like me to stay for a while? Until you fall asleep again?”
She stared at him in wonder and said, “Why are you being so nice to me?” She couldn’t comprehend it. She’d acted terribly toward him, and yet he was being so wonderful in return. It only served to magnify her guilt.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he muttered. His smile was warm and kind—no, sympathetic would best describe it—and the way his eyes suddenly sparkled with wonder and curiosity…Lucy felt her heart trip. It was as if the whole world had stopped around them. All she could see was William, a man so beautiful of both body and soul that regardless of what she’d put him through, he’d still be there, ready to stand by her side. It was a ridiculous moment—in truth, the most absurd she’d ever encountered—and yet her heart opened against her will and allowed him in just enough to claim a tiny corner of it.
Closing her eyes, she forced herself to ignore the giddy feeling that washed over her. She had to stop this ridiculous effect he was starting to have on her. What good would it do either one of them?
She paused with indecision. She did want him to stay, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong impression either. Constance had advised her to get on with the matter of consummating their marriage, and while Lucy did desire to do so, she still felt as if there was a gaping canyon between herself and William. Over the next few days, she would try to make more of an effort to develop a friendship between them, and once that happened, then…She felt her cheeks begin to blush at the prospect of what they might then share. In the meantime, however, she simply shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine,” she said. “After all, it was just a dream. It was kind of you to come and see to me though.”
“Well then,” he said, his voice completely even and devoid of all emotion, “I wish you a good night.” He rose, turned to go, and then paused. Looking back over his shoulder he added, “Should you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Lucy nodded her appreciation and then watched him go, his broad frame disappearing out of sight as he closed the connecting door between their bedrooms behind him.
Pausing for a moment outside her door, William expelled a breath that he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He’d hoped his outward display of sympathy and consideration would have chipped away at her barriers enough to grant him the opportunity to win a little more of her confidence—a confidence that had become essential to discovering her true motive for marrying him. But the determination to keep whatever secrets she had bottled up inside of her was all too apparent.
Time, he reasoned, coupled with patience and persistence would serve him far better than any display of the anger he felt coursing through his veins. It took every ounce of his willpower to stop his jaw from clenching and to stop the harsh words sitting on the tip of his tongue from spilling forth. And she made it no easier for him as she gazed back at him with a pair of big round eyes that effectively concealed her true, meddlesome nature.
As she’d sat there in bed, her slim figure propped slightly up against her pillow and her red hair fanned out behind her, she’d looked as innocent as a newborn babe. When it came to the art of deception, William knew that he had met his match, yet it made him only more determined to discover the truth about her.
Crossing the floor with heavy steps, he shrugged out of his jacket, undid his cravat, and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. He needed a drink to calm his mood. Truth was, he’d never been more confused in all his life. Considering how much he liked having a situation under his command, he hated feeling as though he’d lost all control of his own life. He thought of Lucy. Nobody had ever confounded him more, and while he wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, he also felt it prudent to tread with caution. He wasn’t about to risk having his heart broken. He scoffed at the notion, no chance of that happening as long as he didn’t love her. And the way things were between them right now, it seemed unlikely that he ever would.
Forcing himself to ignore the ache in his chest, he went to the tray that always sat upon his dresser and reached for the crystal carafe that beckoned. He’d just curled his fingers around the neck of it when a loud clatter reached his ears—it had come from Lucy’s room.
Without pause, he ran across to the door and yanked it open, his eyes roaming the darkness that greeted him. “Lucy?”
“I’m quite all right,” she replied. She sounded moderately embarrassed if he wasn’t mistaken. “Sort of, at least.”
Sort of?
Returning to his own room momentarily, he grabbed an oil lamp and marched back into Lucy’s room, instantly catching his breath. “What on earth happened?” he asked, making a stoic attempt at keeping his voice level. It was damn near impossible though when his wife was standing there before him in nothing but her nightgown—her very translucent nightgown. He swallowed hard and tried to focus, but the more he did, the more aware he became of the slow heat that slid over him before settling in his groin, stirring him more vigorously than ever before.
Her body was that of a goddess—slim h*ps below a curvy waistline and above that…his mouth grew dry and he swallowed again. Heaven help him if those weren’t the sort of br**sts that every man fantasized about—plump and perky as they strutted against the flimsy fabric in a seemingly eager attempt to escape. Well, there was a part of him that was growing more and more eager for escape by the second. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.
“I was trying to go back to sleep but felt restless, so I thought I’d go for a midnight stroll in the garden, but when I tried to find my dressing gown and shawl, I stubbed my toe against the table over there, knocking over the vase.”
“You were planning to go for a walk in the garden, dressed in nothing but your dressing gown? Did it occur to you that any number of our guests could have happened upon you? It would have been highly inappropriate to say the least.”
“Everyone’s fast asleep, William…”
“We’re not.” If he didn’t want her to as much as waltz with one of his friends, did she really imagine that he might be all right with one of them seeing her in a state of deshabille?