Throughout it all, I got the sense that Sofia was just going through the motions. Polite. Reserved. Ladylike. But no spark of personality, no real wit or charm.
Had the real Sofia been like this then? So . . . lackluster? She seemed a poor fit for Jack. He needed someone to stand up to him, to challenge him and not let him be all lordly and bossy. My feelings were surprisingly adamant on that point.
Again, I refused to closely examinewhyI felt that way and, instead, shoved the thought further into my emotional black hole. But just popping the lid off that place deep within caused my dream to spin again.
The scene abruptly shifted, morphing from sunny to rain-drenched. The sudden change left me disoriented. I struggled to make sense of where I had landed.
Wind tugged at my clothing, pelting rain soaking me in an instant. I breathed in water-logged air. Peering into the darkness, I tried to make out shapes.
Lightning flickered, illuminating the scene in strobe flashes.
A tower loomed. A figure struggled atop the ancient stone.
Thunder cracked. Boomed. The earth shook.
My heart clogged my throat, everything clicking into place.
I knew this place.
No! Not this. Not now.
Lightning.Crack.The figure lurched upright.Crack.He swung around.
Crack.
Like the night before, I threw myself out of the dream, waking up with a lurch. The sound of my scream still echoed in the room.
A pair of translucent blue eyes stared at me.
I screamed again, scrambling back on the couch. A crab scuttling away.
Jack sat two feet off the ground, legs crossed, watching me with fierce focus.
My perspective of Ghost Jack merged with that of Dream Jack. I suddenly saw him not just as this ghost-guy I had been hanging out with who liked to tease me . . . but a man who had passed through so much.
Emotion clogged my throat, but I couldn’t label the feeling immediately. It wasn’t quite pity or admiration or fondness but some potent mixture of all three.
But one thing I clearly did understand: it was new and scary, and so I shoved it right back down my black hole. I already had too much going on to deal with scary, new, unexpected emotions.
I sank back, relaxing into the couch cushions. Only then did it dawn on me.
I was in the drawing room . . . with no memory of how I had gotten here.
Lovely.
Cheery Tuscan sunlight streamed through the windows, casting the room into a riot of highlights and shadows.
Jack clasped his hands together. “How are you feeling this morning?”
The expression on his face was far too innocent.
“I feel fine.” I tucked my feet underneath me and glanced about the room, pulling myself back to emotional equilibrium. “I’m assuming you didn’t carry me in here.”
“Correct. You walked on your own two feet.”
“I was sleepwalking?”
“Yes. Do you often sleepwalk?”
