She had to go. She had to get back.
She willed her legs to move, but they were rooted to the earth as if she were one of the towering beech trees along the drive. Frantic, she yanked her leaden knee. Daisies scattered in every direction. Still, her legs refused to budge.
All the while, the wind cackled like a witch in her ears.
She had to get back, to warn her father about the storm. To save him…
If only her legs would lift.
But they wouldn’t.
And now, the air had grown arms,squeezingarms.
She’d be crushed if she couldn’t get free.
“Julia! Wake up!Stopthrashing!”
Rayne?
“Fuck.”
DefinitelyRayne.
Her eyes flew open. Around her, everything was sheathed in darkness. She pulled a ragged breath through her throat, inhaling the sweet, prickly scent of hay.
Rayne.
She stilled, breath heavy, and turned her face into his arm.
Just a dream.
Lud, she hated this part. The waking. The shame.
And this time was worse than any other, because she hadn’t opened her eyes to Katherine, Markham, or Horatia. She’d opened them to Rayne.
“Dream,” she repeated aloud, as if he needed confirmation.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Do you want me to get a light?”
“Yes.” She pressed her hands to her heated cheeks and moved out of his embrace so he could stand. “Thank you.”
As he went into the kitchen, she ran her hand through her hair, finger-combing out more than a few dried stalks. So much for the bed she’d so carefully constructed. Nothing remained beneath her but dirt.
Rayne returned with a lamp.
“Oh, heavens,” she cried. “It’s everywhere.”
“Don’t worry about the hay.” He lifted her to her feet. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I am sorry if I worried you.”
“My fault, I suppose.” He winced. “That ride across the bridge—”
“I wasn’t dreaming about the bridge.”
