Winston’s shoulder hit Adeline before the chest of the nearest horse. He pivoted, shielding her with his body, and the animal drove into him instead. Both he and Adeline were hurled forward. Winston cocooned her in his arms, holding tight and twisting so that his body hit the hard road surface first. Therewas an explosion of pain in his ribs as a furious hoof caught him. Then another stole the air right out of his lungs as his flying body hit the cobbles.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The doctor had gone an hour ago, his bag clicking shut like a verdict.
The house was quieter now, though the hush had a weight to it. Servants moved softly beyond the door. Cordelia had taken Louisa upstairs and stayed there, sensing Adeline needed to be alone but promising with a sharp look that she would be back for answers. The clock chimed twelve, midnight.
It should be me taking Louisa up to her bed. I am her governess. Cordelia is Winston’s mother. But as the doctor said, he is in no danger, and sleep is the best medicine.
She sat beside Winston’s bed with her hands folded in her lap. The lamplight painted half his face in shadow while the other half was pale against the pillow. The bruise at his temple had already turned the color of ink. His breathing was steady above the bandages which tightly wrapped his ribs. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the moment again. The flash of the carriage lamp, the horse shying. Then Winston’s strongembrace, forcing her to surrender to the speed and fluid grace of his body.
She had been forced to let him suffer the bruises, risk the broken bones and even life itself. She had become a passenger in his protective arms. He had become her shield. Guilt burned in her.
I should have controlled myself. I let the fear build to a peak and responded like a wild animal, not a reasoning adult human.
The violent crack of his head again against the cobbles was loud in her memory. Horrific still, even the recollection made her stomach lurch. For one sickening moment all her fear had been redirected, and she was certain that Winston was dead. Killed by the ferocious impact. Then, wrapped in his suddenly limp arms, the cold night air draped over her, she had felt his heartbeat against her. Strong. Vital.
He was alive and still is. He sleeps to heal. Oh Lord, but what am I to tell him?
She had panicked, had run without thought or direction. Her fault. And all because she had seen a man who looked like her father.
Not looked like. It was him! I am…was certain. I think. Was I?
Her thoughts whirled and she put her face into her hands, wishing for clarity and receiving only murky memories and half-remembered images. A man with thinning hair. Tall, face half-turned and the same cruel beak of a nose.
“Adeline…” Winston whispered.
“Yes, I’m here,” Adeline replied.
But he was still asleep. He murmured something that might have been her name again, but it was impossible to distinguish.
“Sarah…” came another whisper, but it might have been a sibilant sigh. The whisper of dreams.
Adeline felt a disquieting pulse of jealousy.
I have no right to it. He calls for his late wife. Even though he denies that much, he must have loved her deeply. I have no right to him and certainly no claim over a woman he took to wife.
She reached out to smooth the sheet, barely touching him, afraid to cause pain even in sleep. His hand was wrapped in bandages, and three ribs were badly bruised. The doctor had said he was lucky. Lucky. The word made her throat tighten. A faint sound broke the silence. Winston stirred, his head turning slightly on the pillow. His lips moved, the words unclear at first, then forming her name again.
“Adeline…”
She bent forward, heart quickening. He didn’t wake. His brow furrowed. More words came, low and raw.
“Sarah…don’t take her, please…don’t take Louisa into the mere.”
Adeline froze. The name struck like a cold hand. Why would he dream of Louisa being taken into the mere?
How did Sarah die? What does it have to do with the mere?
She touched his arm gently. “Winston, you’re dreaming.”
He exhaled sharply, and the tension in his body eased. For a moment, she thought he might wake up, but his eyes stayed closed. She sat there, listening to the uneven rhythm of his breathing until it steadied again. When he finally stirred once more, the clock had chimed the hour again, and his gaze flickered open. Confusion passed across his face before recognition found her.
“Adeline?” His voice was hoarse.
“Yes. Don’t move. The doctor said rest is essential.”
He blinked, looking around the room as though trying to remember how he had come there. “How bad?”
