Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

“Daniel?” Rachel murmured, staring at him across the room.

The chamber was vast, spanning across two levels. On the lower level where Rachel stood, there was a chaise longue, a settee and a table topped with a toilette box and an empty glass. On the upper level, up a few steps, there was a grand four-poster bed. The thick crimson curtains were drawn back, and with the moonlight that filtered in through the open window, Rachel could see Daniel lying on the bed.

His torso was fully exposed, and the bed sheet only reached up to his waist. His body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his head thrashed back and forth, his eyes firmly closed.

“No, no,” he murmured before the bellowing began. “No more! Stop the blood!”

“Daniel!” Rachel called to him and rounded the bed.

She reached toward him, her touch soft at first as she took hold of his bicep, trying to wake him. She tried not to think of the hard muscle beneath her hand, nor the sight of his exposed chest. There were such carved muscles, he looked like one of those Grecian statues from the garden where they had first met, carved out of marble.

“Daniel?” When he didn’t wake but continued to thrash his head from side to side, she gripped his arm a little tighter and shook him. “You’re dreaming. You have to wake up.”

“No!” he roared, practically rolling over on the bed.

“It’s a night terror. Daniel, please, you can wake up now.”

She looked around desperately, but Daniel didn’t even have a glass of water that she could throw to wake him up. She reached for his shoulder instead, not knowing what else to do, and shook him.

“No!”

“Wake up.”

His eyes shot open. They flashed in anger, the blue practically glowing silver in the moonlight.

He reached up toward her, moving suddenly. She leapt back, trying to escape him, but there was nothing she could do. Daniel grabbed her waist and flipped her over him, so her back was flat on the bed.

“Daniel!” she shouted.

He froze suddenly. One hand was still on her waist, the other on the bed beside her. His blue eyes blinked madly as he stared at her.

“What the…” he trailed off.

They were close, very close, indeed. With Rachel pressed to the bed, her night rail had gathered up around her knees as he’d moved her. The shifting of their bodies had also revealed that he only wore breeches under the bed sheet, but the rest of his body was bare, with his exposed chest mere inches above her.

“Rachel?” he managed in a much quieter voice.

He looked down at their position, and the evident grasp he had on her waist. Their position and that touch had Rachel freezing, but not with fear, only excitement.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said hurriedly.

“Oh, God!” He flung himself back from her, releasing her so hurriedly that he scrambled across the bed. “I didn’t mean to… Did we… God, no.”

“God, no,” she echoed. “How flattering is that?” She pulled herself up in the bed, though her night rail was still gathered around her knees as she gazed at him.

He clambered across the bed, his eyes darting between the two of them.

“Daniel, the edge of the bed—watch out!”

It was too late. In his effort to escape her, he fell off the bottom of the bed and dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Daniel?” Rachel crawled across the bed and knelt on the edge, peering down at him. He was in a tangled mess on the floor, staring up at her with narrowed eyes.

“What happened?” he asked between panting breaths.

“You were having a night terror. You bellowed, screamed, and you sounded so afraid,” She replied in a low voice. He closed his eyes and covered his face. It left her uncertain if he was trying to recall the dream, or if he was hiding from her. “I… I came to wake you up.”

“Then, how did you end up beneath me?” he asked, dropping his hand from his face.

“You did that bit.”

“Did I?” His eyes widened, then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I…” he trailed off, then dropped his head back down to the floor again, covering his face with both hands.

Rachel climbed out of the bed and reached down toward him, gently resting a hand on his arm.

“Time to get up, I think,” she whispered softly.

He looked at her, lifting his hands so their eyes met. “What exactly did I do in my sleep? To get you…” he trailed off and pointed at the bed.

“Well, you just sort of grabbed me and flung me over you.” She smiled at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Then, you said, ‘Oh, God’ and backed away from me as if you had found a wasp in your bed.” She laughed, but he didn’t mirror the sound.

He turned away from her, pulling his arm out of her grasp, and gained his feet. Slowly, she stood as well, wringing her hands.

As Daniel stood, she was captivated by him. His carved torso was completely exposed, and he took no pains to hide how he looked at her. His eyes flitted down her night rail.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said in a rush. “When I’m dreaming, I’m not really in control. If something happens, I tend to just…”

“Defend yourself,” she finished for him, realizing why he had flipped her over him. It wasn’t an act of passion but of defense. “Were you often woken on the battlefield with the need to fight at once?”

He didn’t answer but turned away and crossed the room. He found in the corner of his chamber something Rachel had been looking for. He lifted a jug of water and filled up the empty glass on the table, then drained it in one gulp.

She followed him, and she could tell he had no intention of answering her question. She stopped beside him. When he turned to face her, he looked away quickly, apparently unable to gaze at her in her night rail.

He confuses me so much. Does he like the way I look or not?

“Would you like me to stay?” she asked quietly. His eyebrows shot up over the rim of his glass as he began to gulp a second glassful. “I mean, in case you have another dream. So that I can wake you again.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He put the glass and the jug down, turning away from her.

The moonlight shone on his back and shoulders. His shoulder blades, in particular, captivated her. Her eyes danced across them, wondering what it would be like to grab onto him in a passionate embrace.

“I don’t let anyone see me like this,” he whispered in a harsh voice.

“What did you say?” She stepped to the side, trying to catch his eye and look away from his body.

“This is perfectly normal.” He waved his hand back toward the bed.

“Normal?” she spluttered. “Yes, about as normal as it is for me to sing and dance in my sleep.”

Her wryness didn’t help, for he glared at her.

“I’m a soldier,” he hissed quietly. “This is normal for me. It has been the same ever since I came back from the war. This is normal, and I do not need anyone watching over me as it happens.”

“Oh, I see.” She was instantly irked. Placing her hands on her hips, she returned his glare. “So, you were happy to suffer that night terror for another minute, maybe five minutes more. Lord knows how long you would have been a prisoner of your mind unless I woke you.”

“I can handle it. I don’t need anyone’s help.” He walked past her, moving so close that he nearly brushed his shoulder against hers.

Rachel didn’t know whether to be angry that he may have dismissed her or disappointed that he had not touched her at all.

“So, in the future, I should let you scream bloody murder, and I should do nothing about it?” she asked, following him as he returned to his bed.

“Yes, that is preferable,” he said sharply. “Rachel, go back to your chamber.”

“I am not yours to order around!” she argued, standing in his way so he could not get back into the bed.

“Strange, because the last time I checked, you are my wife, and you made a vow to obey me.”

“Well, I seem to remember you saying you could not keep to all of your vows. So, guess what? That is the vow I do not intend to keep.”

She was tart, standing tall. She could have sworn that his lips flickered, perhaps tempted to smile, but then they flattened together, and there was no sign of any humor at all.

“Step away, Rachel. I am going back to bed.” Daniel’s voice hardened.

Rachel froze, uncertain of what to think or feel. She had rushed into this chamber, full of fear and concern for him, then she’d felt heated, pressed beneath him on the bed. Now, she was consumed with fury. He intended to frighten her away, that was plain.

“Return to your chamber,” he said again and waved a hand toward the door.

“I’ll go, but do not think I do it because you are ordering me to do so.”

“Why go at all, then?” he asked, his voice still hard.

“Because what is the point in trying to be kind to you if this is the response I get?” She waved a hand at him, then hurried to the connecting door.

“Rachel?” he called, but she didn’t slow down this time. She threw open the door. “Rachel!” he called louder this time as he ran across the room, intending to catch up with her.

She closed the door between them, before he could say anymore, and bolted it on her side. She heard a thud but was uncertain if he’d walked into the door, or just banged his hand on it in frustration.

Hurriedly, she retreated to her bed, blowing out her candle on the way. It didn’t matter how much she tried to go to sleep, she couldn’t find much peace. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw herself beneath Daniel again on his bed, or she heard his panicked cries.

There is something more here, something he does not wish to talk about.

* * *

“Be warned, Your Grace, she is a force to be reckoned with,” Mrs. Brooks whispered hastily as she put down a pot of tea in front of Rachel.

“Who is?” Rachel asked, reaching for her teacup.

“Your visitor.” Mrs. Brooks nodded at the window beside her.

Rachel rose from her seat and moved to the window to see who had pulled up in the drive.

She had retreated to her favorite room in the house, a small parlor, where few people found her other than Mrs. Brooks. Anne clearly had no love for this room, for she avoided it entirely, and it seemed that Daniel never sought her out here either. As much as Rachel had been longing for his company the previous evening, their meeting last night had left her glad to escape him today.

The carriage stopped on the driveway, and a tall lady clambered down.

“Oh,” Rachel gasped, recognizing the face from her wedding. “That’s Lady Follet, is it not?”

“Just so.” Mrs. Brooks laughed as she walked to her. “A formidable presence, indeed. A goodly soul, once you get past that icy exterior.” She pretended to shiver, prompting Rachel to laugh. “She has a soft heart underneath.”

“Thank you.” Rachel smiled. “I presume she has come to see Daniel or Anne. She has surely not come to see me.” She sighed, trying not to think about the emptiness of the room.

She had already written to her sisters that morning and asked them to come and visit her as soon as possible. She had a feeling Bridget would come sooner than Emily would.

“You think not?” Mrs. Brooks laughed. “From what I know of Lady Follet, I know who she has come to see.” She left the room quickly before Rachel had a chance to ask what she had meant.

A few minutes later, the door was flung open, and Lady Follet appeared in the room. Her bright grey hair was pulled back slickly into a neat chignon. She had not bothered with fussy curls, but an austere look that showed not a hair was out of place. Her strong glare, which was as sharp as any bird of prey’s, landed on Rachel. With a flick of the pearls at her neck, she looked around, then smiled indulgently.

“Well, Mrs. Brooks, I can see you’re taking care of the new Duchess,” Dorothea said, smiling at the housekeeper beside her. “Bring a second cup, if you would. There is much Her Grace and I must discuss.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Brooks smiled at Rachel as if to say, “I told you,” then she vanished.

“Dear, it is so good to meet you properly at last.”

Lady Follet hurried forward. She threw her reticule onto a settee as if she had done it a thousand times before and owned everything in the room. She crossed to Rachel, and rather than bothering to curtsey, she took Rachel’s hand as if they were old friends and patted it.

“A wedding is such a busy affair, and no easy thing to make an acquaintance.”

“Yes, that is true. It is good to meet you, Lady Follet. I understand you are my husband’s aunt.”

“Yes. The Dowager Marchioness of Follet.” Dorothea laughed at the idea, the sound softening the harshness of her features. “Yet, I do not fuss with such titles when it comes to family. You must call me Dorothea, dear, as that is my name. If you have no objection, I shall call you Rachel.”

“Yes, of course.” Rachel nodded, so startled by this woman’s strength of character that she felt she had been knocked down by a skittle ball.

“Now, then, what are we having?” Dorothea steered Rachel toward the table and as good as pushed her into the seat. “Tea and cake? Nothing wrong with that.” She sat down beside her. “But if you are to carry the next heir to the dukedom, then remember to have some bread and fruit at tea as well. It will make you strong, dear.”

Rachel feared her jaw hit the floor in surprise at the woman’s outspokenness. The mere idea of carrying a child had her thinking of Daniel above her on his bed.

I know why I grew so angry at him last night. It wasn’t just that he had rebuffed my attempt to help him, but the fact he was so unaffected by what had taken place. He hardly blushed as I did!

“Now then, how are you taking to being a duchess?” Dorothea asked as Mrs. Brooks returned and passed her a teacup. “Ah, thank you, Mrs. Brooks. Always so efficient.”

“Well, I—” Rachel began but was cut off by Dorothea’s enthusiasm.

“I trust you are already thinking of hosting your first event as a duchess, yes?”

“We haven’t discussed it, no.”

“Hmm, we must remedy that.” Dorothea smiled and reached forward, patting Rachel’s hand as it rested on the table. Then, she turned toward the housekeeper before she could step out of the room. “Well, Mrs. Brooks, how is she doing?”

“Extremely well, my lady,” Mrs. Brooks said and smiled encouragingly at Rachel. “She is settling into her new home, and this is her favorite room.”

“I can see why.” Dorothea nodded approvingly. “It has a charm to it and a pleasant aspect.” She gestured toward the windows and the garden. “You should host a tea party in this room for all your friends.”

“What a lovely idea!” Mrs. Brooks gushed.

“Well, I…” Rachel sat forward, eager to speak before plans were made on her behalf. “I am not sure I am ready for such a thing. Perhaps in a few weeks when I know my home better, and I am used to being a married woman.”

“Getting used to being a married woman is something that is usually saved for nighttime and your chamber, my dear.” Dorothea’s words made Rachel drop her cake fork.

Fortunately, Mrs. Brooks was so quick off the mark that she hurried to catch it before it could hit the floor.

“Thank you,” Rachel managed in a thick voice.

“Yes, you must take charge of your life now, dear.” Dorothea smiled, sitting forward. “Would you like a tea party with your friends?”

“Yes, of course, but I—”

“Then you shall have one! Do you have a gown to wear?”

Rachel felt like she had been knocked down once again, like some skittle. Dorothea was taking charge completely, but in a good-natured way, as if she was not aware of her own bossiness.

“I have my old gowns.”

“Oh, no.” Dorothea waved a hand dismissively. “As the Duchess of Elbridge, you must greet your guests in a new gown. Come, drink up. I shall take you shopping this afternoon for a new gown. Then, you can invite your sisters and your friends to tea. What do you say?”

Rachel hesitated. There was a part of her that wished to stay quiet. After the scandal that had befallen her, hiding sounded preferable. Yet, inviting her sisters and friends over for tea also had its temptations.

Well, what is the harm in trying to have fun? Daniel and Anne are avoiding me, so I might as well spend time with someone interested in my company.

“Yes, why not?” Rachel said and downed what was left in her teacup.

“I shall let His Grace know you are going out, Your Grace,” Mrs. Brooks said.

Rachel stiffened; her thoughts drawn to Daniel once again.

I wonder if he will mind me holding a tea party after the scandal…