Bang!
“No!” He wept. “Dear God, no!” More blood on his hands. Another child dead.
“Marcus. Wake up.” Damn his father. Damn him to hell. A hand grasped his arm, and he shook it off. A crashing sound pierced his thoughts.
His eyes flew open.
Darkness. The inn. The elopement.
“Emily?” She wasn’t on the bed. A whimpering sound in the corner nearly brought bile to his throat. What had he done?
Springing from the bed, he found her curled up on the floor, a chair toppled over behind her.
Marcus’ hands found her face, her throat, her shoulders. “God, Emily, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He scooped his arms beneath her knees and lifted her off the floor. The moonlight illuminated the room just enough that he could carry her to the large bed he’d insisted she take.
She clung to him, her face tucked into his chest. “I’m all right, Marcus. I know you didn’t mean to.” But her body trembled. He’d scared her. Damn him.
He set her on the mattress and went to pull back but was caught. Her arms held him like a vice. “Emily,” he whispered into her hair, but she just shook her head.
“You frightened me.” Her voice wobbled.
Marcus released a deep breath and then slid in beside her. Using his free hand, he tucked them both under the coverlet. “God, I’m sorry. You should hate me. I won’t blame you.” Hell, he hatedhimself. The hand he’d felt in his dream had been hers. He’d practically thrown her across the room. “I’m a menace.”
“No,” she whispered. “When you cried out, I thought you were being attacked. I’m not hurt. Shaken a little. But that wasn’t what frightened me.” Her arms relaxed from around his neck, and he felt her fingertips fluttering over his face.
“Nothing. A nightmare.” He pushed her hands away. The emotions from the nightmare had followed him into wakefulness. He’d caused Meggie’s death. She’d been carrying his child. He’d caused his own child’s death. By wanting her. By wanting them.
His conscience warned him he might be putting Emily in danger now, too. Bile that had risen in his throat moments ago threatened again. He shook his head. It didn’t make sense.
Emily climbed off the bed. She struck a flint and the light of one candle flickered in the room. Marcus watched her fumble in the shadows, pour a liquid into a glass, and then return to the bedside to hand him a drink.
“It’s only water,” she apologized. “I realize you’d prefer something stronger but…” She shrugged as her voice trailed off.
Marcus hadn’t even realized how dry his mouth had gone. He downed most of it in one swallow. When she sat on the bed facing him, she drew her knees to her chin and hugged them. “I used to have the most horrid dreams. It’s why I began to read so much. I needed to get through the nights thinking about something else.”
What on earth scared Miss Goodnight?
As though he’d vocalized his question, she spoke up again. “I’d dream I was locked in a small room—a closet—only there wasn’t a door. My mother had put me there. If she locked me away, she could pretend I didn’t exist. I had to light a candle when I’d awaken, otherwise, it felt like I was still locked in the darkness. And then I’d fear laying in the darkness.” She fidgeted with her hands. “So, I started reading.”
Outrage nearly erupted from him. “Did your mother actually—”
“Oh, no! It was only a dream.” She pushed a few strands of hair away from her face. “It was a stupid, stupid dream… but it terrified me. Dreams can seem so real.”
Marcus relaxed back against the pillow. His dream had been reoccurring for years. It seemed so real to him now—less of a dream and more of a memory. He’d never seen Meggie grow large with child. He’d never seen her at all, after being informed of her father’s death. But it all felt so real…
Emily tilted her head, watching him in concern.
How had he come to be lying in the large bed with her comfortinghim?
He reached up and cradled her cheek in his palm. “Are you injured? I’m horrid.”
She laughed, a little weak, a little brittle. He guessed that she’d feigned it.
“No. I’m fine.” She covered his hand with both of hers. “We can wait to put out the light. And I’m a good listener, if you want to tell me about it.”
He couldn’t tell her about the dream. Except… she did already know about Meggie.
“Was it about… her?” She winced a little as she mentioned the woman he’d once loved.
