Chapter Four
Rhys woke upin a cold sweat some hours later. His dreams were never comforting or peaceful, instead only replaying his experiences on the battlefield, which caused for him to wake up in a panic most mornings.
Though the room they were in had no windows, he knew it was about five o’clock in the morning and sure enough, when he looked at the mantel over the fireplace, he saw the long hand a single minute away from the hour.
He always woke up early, even after a night of drinking, which was seldom. It didn’t matter if he was ill or sleep deprived. Rhys rose with the sun, in more ways than one when he remembered the attractive-looking redhead in the bed above him.
How had he let Bessie trick him into this mess?
Perhaps trick wasn’t the right word. He had asked for her help after all, and she had delivered. And although she was naïve, Louisa didn’t seem frivolous or silly, nor was she critical of his lack of hearing. Of course, it might prove difficult in the weeks ahead, but overall, Rhys couldn’t help feeling as though he had fallen into a bit of luck. Not only did Louisa seem to have a sensible head about her, but she was also rather pretty.
Standing up, Rhys looked over his shoulder to the lump beneath the duvet. Louisa’s auburn hair was scattered over the pillow, just beneath the edge of the blanket. Although he had lain awake for a good hour before falling asleep, he had foolishly been straining to hear her.
Suddenly, the pile of blankets jerked, startling him. Taking several steps towards the bed, he wondered if she was awake.
“Louisa?” he said, making sure to keep his voice in a whisper, lest she was not awake.
He couldn’t hear her if she answered and so approached the edge of the bed. To his surprise, soft curls framed her still-sleeping face, though it looked as though she were angry. Was she having a nightmare?
Her mouth opened, her brows cinched together as she began to move her head back and forth. Her lips were moving, but he couldn’t understand. Jeremy? Was she calling for someone? And who was Jeremy? Or was it, John?
“Louisa?” he said again, his voice louder than before, but still, she did not open her eyes.
Her arm flew up over her head, her hand clenched tightly. She was dreaming, and it didn’t appear to be a very comforting one. Deciding to release her from her sleeping imprisonment, he placed a hand on the mattress and leaned over her, his other hand hovering near her cheek, before moving to her shoulder. Tentatively, he let his fingertips brush against the skin of her bare shoulder.
Smooth and warm, Rhys felt his breath catch as a wave of orange and clove wafted on the air. What a peculiar scent. Why should she smell so sweet?
But then her frown deepened, and she began to whimper. Leaning down, with his left ear hovering above her, he heard her faintly call out the name John. She was dreaming aboutsomeone. A boy or a man named John. Who was he and why did he haunt her dreams?
“Louisa,” he repeated once more, applying the gentlest of pressures to her shoulder. “Louisa, wake up.”
Louisa’s eyes opened, but she didn’t look directly at him. Instead, she appeared confused until she turned and, upon seeing him, she yelped.
“Oh!” she shouted, gathering the comforter to her chin.
His hand dropped and he stepped back before she recognized him.
“Oh, yes, of course. Lieutenant. Is it morning already?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Oh, well,” she said, giving him an awkward smile, holding the blankets up. “Um, I suppose I should get up.”
“Yes,” he said, turning around to pick up his coat that was still rolled up into a ball on the ground. He picked it up by the collar and whipped it out, shaking it before glancing back at her.
“Your jacket is wrinkled.”
“So it is.”
There was little to be done about it.
“Are we to be married in the clothes we wore last night?” she asked.
“I’m sure Bessie will return the gown you came here in last night.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
