Page 61 of So Wild A Heart

“Good.” Miranda dusted off her skirt. “Then let’s go on.”

So they continued to the bend in the river, a green, idyllic setting, and sat down to their lunch. Uncle Rupert and her father launched into a discussion of the properties of limestone, one of which apparently was its breakability. Miranda barely listened, content to sit and nibble at her food and let her nerves settle. It helped that Devin was beside her.

“And to think I found London dangerous…” she said lightly.

Devin turned and looked at her, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, two accidents since I moved here. I can’t remember when I have ever been so accident prone.”

“I see.” He nodded, studying her face. “Why do you think that is?”

Miranda shrugged. “I’m not sure. The first time, I have to admit, I was careless. I leaned on a wooden railing even though I knew that much of the wood in the house had been eaten away by woodworm. That was a silly, impulsive mistake. But today—I truly cannot imagine how I could have avoided a falling rock. Should I have been paying more attention?”

“Thank God your father saw it in time. I don’t know how you could have avoided it, except to keep a careful watch. Limestone slides off the face of the cliffs and falls periodically. It is always good policy not to stand too close to the edge of them, I think.”

“I don’t believe in signs or portents or living under a bad star or whatever you want to call it…but it does seem odd.”

“Well, safest to be extra careful,” he said, with an easy smile. “Just in case there is some sort of malevolent cloud hanging over us. Make sure you watch before you step. Darkwater is old and crumbling in many ways, and before it is restored, there are probably ample opportunities for accidents. You need to be careful. And if you go riding with Veronica or by yourself, make sure I am with you, or your father or Uncle Rupert. Or a groom, if there’s no one else.”

She looked at him oddly. “You sound very serious.”

“I am serious. You could have been killed today. Promise me that you will take extra care.”

Warmth stole through Miranda at the thought that he was concerned about her. “All right,” she agreed, smiling. “I promise I will watch out.”

By the time Miranda went to bed that night, her nerves had been restored. She had been a little afraid that she would have trouble falling asleep or would suffer bad dreams as a result of the accident, but in fact she fell asleep rather quickly and slept quite peacefully until the middle of the night.

Then she came awake suddenly in the dark, her eyes flying open, her heart racing. She did not know what had awakened her, and she lay for a moment, listening, looking around. Then the shout came, and she knew that something like that must have awakened her.

It came from beyond the connecting door into Dev’s room, a man’s hoarse shout. “No!”

Miranda hopped out of bed, impelled by the note of urgency and horror in the voice. She ran across the room, not even pausing to put on dressing gown or slippers, and opened the connecting door.

Dev’s room was dark, but there was enough moonlight coming in around the curtains for her to make out his form in the large bed. Devin was moving restlessly, his sheets tangled about him. Miranda hurried to his side. He was asleep, but obviously in the grip of a nightmare. He groaned, his face contorted and sweating, and his hand shot out suddenly, making her jump.

She took his hand in both her own, saying, “Devin. Devin, wake up!”

His eyes flew open, and for an instant he stared at her sightlessly, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths.

“Devin, it’s me, Miranda. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

His eyes changed, became focused. He looked at her, and a long shudder ran through his body. “Miranda? What are you…?”

He sat up dazedly, leaning back against the massive headboard. Miranda sat down on the bed beside him, keeping his hand in hers. “You were having a nightmare. It woke me.”

“Oh.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” She smiled. “All of us have nightmares from time to time. Are you all right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I—I’m just a little disoriented.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

Devin shrugged. “I have it periodically. It’s—” He ran his hand back through his hair and sighed. “I was dreaming about a girl I killed.”

Miranda stared, stunned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, not literally. I did not take a knife and stab her through the heart, but I might as well have. She killed herself because of me.”