The banshee.
“Doom!” it wailed. “Disaster!” Then it lowered until its gaping maw was right before her face. “You kiss a Sassenach!”
Sadie trembled in terror. The demon spirit’s white hair whipped about in a frenzy of hatred. The creature haunted the wicked, wailed at betrayers, and cursed those who destroyed women. But why did it target her?
“I have done nothing wrong!” she cried.
It pointed a skeletal finger at her heart, and then dropped it lower until she pointed at her womb.
“Betrayer,” it hissed before glaring at Lord Heath. “Sassenash.”
Then it flung itself at him. With claws extended and mouth agape, it threw itself upon Lord Heath while Sadie bolted forward to save him.
She was too late. Lord Heath screamed while his blood gushed.
And she…
She bolted upright in her bed, her scream echoing through her room.
The response was immediate. Her maid arrived first, eyes wide and hair askew. She was quickly followed by two footmen and the cook who was carrying a wicked cooking knife.
Sadie didn’t know what to say. She was still reeling from her nightmare, still looking for a banshee in the corner with a bloody Lord Heath.
“A dream,” she rasped, her words more for herself than anyone else.
“A dream?” the cook cried, still brandishing the knife. “A dream!”
Sadie closed her eyes, trying to banish the sight of a banshee devouring Lord Heath. Worse, beneath the nightmare images was a fire still sparking under her skin. Was it lingering terror or desire?
None of what she’d dreamed had happened last night. None of the touching, the kissing, or the banshee. He had escorted her to the door, bowed to her, and watched her enter the house unmolested. Perhaps there had been a moment when their eyes had locked. A long moment before he bowed and backed away. And perhaps she had gone to bed thinking of the thrill of having his hands on her body. She had wondered, just before sleep, what it would be like with him in her bed.
But it hadn’t happened.
At least not until her dream. And not until a banshee woke her from her fantasy. She could still hear the scream in her head.Betrayer. Sassenach.All because she had kissed an Englishman in her dreams.
“Goodness, what is this about?” the dowager countess asked as she pushed her way into the room. “Sadie Allen, what have you done?”
Sadie swallowed and tried to face her sponsor. It wasn’t this woman’s fault that she was a failure in the marriage mart. Indeed, the countess had managed to marry off two other Scotswomen.
“I’m sorry, countess,” she said as she tried to clear the fear from her tightened throat. “I had a dream.”
“A dream?
“A nightmare.”
“Obviously.” The woman shooed everyone else out of the room. Then she folded her arms and settled on the bed. “In my experience, nightmares must be faced head on. What exactly did you dream?”
How much should she say? None of it. But perhaps she could go straight to the root of the problem.
“Countess, you have been kindness itself in sponsoring me. You have successfully launched several young ladies to brilliant matches.”
“Two of them Scotswomen,” she added with clear pride.
“Yes. It is no fault of yours that I have not taken.”
“Certainly not!”
“Perhaps we should admit defeat. Keep everything my kinsman gave you for my come out and send me home. I will tell him that you did everything possible, but there was no husband for me in England.”
