When he looked into those cinnamon-colored eyes, he saw the memories pushing to be released and her desperate struggle to contain them.If she would just open up and let the memories come, she would understand what this connection was between them.She’dknow.
And that’s all Christien wanted, for her to remember him.Because he was living in hell, knowing she’d come back to him but unable to push past her defenses to unlock her memories.
“We met on April fourteenth, in the year of our Lord 1307.You were sitting next to your husband, Count Flandres, when I first saw you from across the hall.You watched me from beneath your lashes.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth went slack.She was pale before but now she was positively gray.Don’t do this to her.But for once he ignored his gut.
“You know this because I told you about the dream.This doesn’t prove anything,” she whispered.
Christien ignored her, his anger taking over his good sense.
“I saw your fear of him, especially when he approached us.”
Tears pooled in her eyes but still he didn’t stop.He couldn’t.Heneededher to remember.“Even though you experienced his wrath that night, you still came to the keep the next morning to see us off.You hid in the shadows, but I knew you were there.Even then we had this connection.”
She pressed a fist to her mouth, the tears rolling over her knuckles.This part she hadn’t told him and they both knew it.
“Rest assured,my lady,I was as drawn to you as you were to me.Certainly a mad choice on both our parts, but you couldn’t stay away and neither could I.”
“Please,” she whispered around her fist.“Please, stop.”
Her plea didn’t penetrate his anger.Nothing could at this point.
“Do you believe me now, Madelaine?”
“How do you know this?How do you know what I’ve been dreaming?”
“Because they’re not dreams, Madelaine.They’re memories of our life together.”
“Stop this!”Her cry echoed through the quiet hospital room.“They’renotmemories.They’re dreams.Caused by stress.”
He looked down at her.Unable to resist, he touched her cheek, her jaw, the hollow at the base of her throat where her necklace had once lain.“Do you always feel a lover’s touch in your dreams?”
She jerked back, hissing in pain.“Enough.What you’re saying can’t happen.”
“Itishappening,” he said softly.“But you continue to deny it.We were in love, Madelaine.”
“Weweren’t!Theywere!”Her breathing was erratic, the fear coming off her in waves, but it was the look in her eyes that stopped him short.Fear he could handle.Fear he could assuage.He would slay her demons for her, travel to hell and back if it would make her happy.But fear of him made him sick inside.
“I’m not mad,” he said softly.
“I didn’t say you were.”
He raised a brow.“No?You were certainly thinking it.”
“What?You can read minds as well as know a person’s dreams?”
He shook his head sadly.“No, Madelaine.I know you.”
Chapter Ten
After their conversation in the hospital room, Christien said very little to Lainie over the next twenty-four hours.He quickly and efficiently handled her nurses and doctors and before she knew it, they were ensconced in a limousine and on their way to the club.He never asked her where she wanted to go.He just swooped her up and took her with him.
She didn’t argue, much to her disgust.At first she blamed her acquiescence on the pain.But in the end, she decided it was time to stop lying to herself.She didn’t argue because she didn’t want to be alone.
And she decided to be honest about one other thing, as well.Maybe her dreams weren’t all about stress.Maybe they were about something else.
She replayed the conversation in the hospital room and the same questions kept popping up.How did he know so many details about the dreams?Dreams she’d never told him about.
