“Go ahead.” She smiled broadly. “Just say it. It’s so much easier than you think.”
“I love you too.”
“I know. You’ve got the best heart of all of us, Bri. That’s what worries you.” She closed the door quietly, then went upstairs to the rest of her family.
***
SHE dreamed of walking through the gardens of Sanctuary. The high summer smells, the high summer air. Overhead the moon was as full and clear as a child’s cutout. White on black. Stars were a streaming sea of light.
Monkshood and Canterbury bells nodded gently in the breeze, their blossoms glowing white. Oh, how she loved the pure-white blooms, the way they shone in the dark. Fairy flowers, she thought, that danced while mortals slept.
She felt immortal herself—so strong, so vivid. Raising her arms high, she wondered she didn’t simply lift off the ground and soar. The night was her time as well. Her alone time. She could drift along the garden paths like a ghost, and the ring of the wind chimes was music to dance by.
Then a shadow stepped out of the trees. And the shadow became a man. Immortal, only curious, she walked toward him.
Now running, running through the forest in the blinding dark, with rain lashing viciously at her face. The night was different now, she was different now. Afraid, pursued. Hunted. The wind was a thousand howling wolves with fangs bared and bloody, the raindrops tiny bright-edged spears aimed to tear the flesh. Limbs whipped at her mercilessly. Trees sprang up to block her path.
She was pathetically mortal now, terrifyingly mortal. Her breath caught on a little sob as she heard her hunter call her name. But the name was Annabelle.
Jo ripped away the sheets that tangled around her legs and bolted upright. Even as the vision cleared away, Nathan laid a hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t lying beside her, but standing, and his face was masked in the dark.
“You’re all right. Just a dream. A bad one.”
Not trusting her voice, she nodded. The hand on her shoulder rubbed it once, absently, then dropped away. The gesture was a distant comfort.
“Do you want something?”
“No.” The fear was already fading. “It’s nothing. I’m used to it.”
“It’d be a wonder if you didn’t have nightmares after today.” He moved away from her, walked to the window, turned his back.
She could see he’d pulled on his jeans, and when she ran her head over the sheets beside her, she found they were cool. He hadn’t been sleeping beside her. Hadn’t wanted to, Jo realized. He’d only stayed over at Sanctuary because Kate had made it impossible to refuse. And he was only sharing the bed here because it would have been awkward otherwise.
But he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t turned to her.
“You haven’t slept, have you?”
“No.” He wasn’t sure he would ever close his eyes peacefully again.
Jo glanced at the clock. 3:05. She’d experienced her share of restless three A.M.s. “Maybe you should take a sleeping pill.”
“No.”
“I know this was hell for you, Nathan. There’s nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.”
“Nothing’s ever going to make it better for Tom Peters.”
“He might have killed her.”
Nathan hoped it was true—with all his heart he hoped it. And felt filthy for it.
“They argued,” Jo said stubbornly. “She walked out on him. He could have followed her down to the cove. They kept arguing and he snapped. It would only take a minute, a minute of rage. Then he panicked and carried her away. He’d have wanted the distance, so he put her in the river.”
“People don’t always kill in rage or panic,” he said softly. Bitterness rose into his throat, threatening to choke him. “I have no business being in this house. Being with you. What was I thinking of? Going back. To fix what? What the hell did I think I could do?”
“What are you talking about?” She hated the quaver in her voice. But the sound of his, so hard and cold, chilled her.
He turned back to stare at her. She sat in the big, feminine bed, her knees drawn up defensively, her face a pale shadow. He’d made mistakes all along, he realized. Selfish and stupid mistakes. But the biggest had been to fall in love with her, and to nudge her into love with him. She would hate him before it was done. She would have to.
