Chapter 24

CHAPTER24

Despite what she had seen and heard in the gardens, it did not take Nancy long to fall asleep, for she was still weakened by the waning sickness and still floating on the memory of what had just happened.

That woman, whoever she was, might have tainted the moment somewhat, but each time Nancy repeated the scene in her head, she felt the joy afresh, able to briefly forget the unpleasantness afterward.

Adam was firmly in her thoughts as sleep claimed her, so it was little surprise when he entered her dreams. She had always been a vivid dreamer but had never known the possibilities of such a gift until that night.

She found herself on the edge of a lake that looked so very like the one at Lord Bainton’s manor, though it gleamed bronze beneath a reddish-hued moon. Sweet music drifted across the grounds—not music for dancing, but music for admiring. Music that lifted the heart and stirred the soul and brought a faraway smile to those who heard it.

Glancing down, she noticed she was wearing a gown of garnet red, not cut in the modern Empire style but in an older, more romantic fashion. The capped sleeves were puffed, and the neckline was lower than might have been considered appropriate for the time, her waist held in by a tight corset, while her skirts flared out, trailing across the grass in a long train. The precise sort of gown reserved for dreaming.

It is a pity that no one wears such gowns anymore, except for costume balls.

In the distance, something began to move, rippling the water. Wavelets danced in the wake of the creature beneath, making the lake glitter under the strange moonlight.

It is just an eel. There are no snakes, no sharks, no crocodiles.

But her heart began to race regardless as the ripples grew nearer, a warning sounding in her mind that she could not heed. Her legs would not move, her feet refusing to budge.

All of a sudden, something broke the surface of the water, sending up a firework of droplets that arced through the air before dropping back down to the lake. But the creature that had broken the surface was not a creature at all—at least, not the kind she had expected.

Adam emerged from the lake, clad only in his trousers, sweeping his wet hair back from his face as he walked toward her. And as he came up onto the shallow bank at the water’s edge, she noticed his feet were bare too. More glistening droplets raced down his naked chest, his skin gleaming as if he, too, was made of cast bronze, like the lake he had emerged from.

“Now, there is a sight for sore eyes,” he said in that throaty, silky voice that never failed to stir her insides.

“What are you doing, swimming in the lake at such an hour? And at a ball, too!” Nancy chided, in awe of his athletic physique. There was not a line or contour or muscle wasted, every part of his flesh carved by a divine hand. “You might be seen, husband!”

He paused. “Husband?”

“Have you forgotten our marriage already?” she asked shyly, fearing that the dream might have taken on a mind of its own.

He walked the rest of the way to her until he stood not half a step away. Even in dreams, warmth radiated from his inspiring figure, and her hands itched to touch him, to see if his skin felt as smooth as it looked. Nancy wanted to brush her fingertips across the curls of hair that dusted his chest, imagining how they might tickle her own skin. Indeed, although she knew gentleman came in all shapes and sizes, she doubted she had ever met—or dreamed of—anyone who oozed more potent masculinity.

“I had not forgotten,” Adam told her, smiling, “but you have never called me that before. Indeed, you have never used a term of endearment for me. As to why I was swimming in the lake at such a late hour, I say, why not?”

She gasped. “I certainly have used terms of endearment.”

“No, my darling, you have not,” he insisted, closing the gap between them. He made to embrace her, but she put up her hands to stop him.

“You will get me all wet,” she protested.

He chuckled. “Why is it that you hate water so much? Can you not bear to be soaked for a moment, even if it means being held in my arms?”

“You ought to dry yourself first.”

His eyes glinted with mischief. “Very well, then let us make a game of it.”

“A game?”

He nodded, lifting his hand to her cheek, and running his fingers through her hair. She wore it loose, the shiny waves falling to her waist. “Do you see that maze behind you?”

She turned, peering up at the tall hedges. “That is a bush, husband.”

“It is a hedge maze,” he insisted. “If you do not wish to be embraced while I am wet, then you must try to escape me. I shall allow you to go first, counting to… let us say twenty, and then I shall chase you. If you can outrun me, you shall remain dry and untouched. If you cannot… well, I shall ensure that everyone in that stuffy manor hears the sighs of your pleasure, my darling wife.”

She blinked, vaguely aware that this was not her usual sort of dream. “But how I am to outrun you?”

“You must be wily, my darling,” he told her.

She frowned at him. “As wily as a fox?”

“Oh, wilier than that.” He grinned and took a step back. “One, two—”

“That is not fair!” Nancy yelped. “I was not ready for you to begin counting!”

He shrugged, laughing softly. “Three, four…”

Whirling around and hoisting up her skirts, Nancy ran for the towering maze, darting through an archway cut directly into the fragrant privet hedges. She froze there for a moment, uncertain of which way to turn, or why she was bothering to run at all when she dearly wished to be caught.

With the moonlight illuminating her path, she veered left and hurtled on, a pleased smile forming on her lips as she turned right, then left, then right again, and found herself running down a straight path. All the while, she listened out for the sound of someone pursuing her, but she could hear nothing.

There were several arches and recesses cut into the hedge, and as her legs began to tire and her long train threatened to trip her, she decided that the best course of action would be to hide. So, at the next recess to appear, she dove into the protective darkness and pressed herself as far back into the shadow as possible.

Something hard bumped up against her spine, but she paid it no mind as she watched the stretch of the maze beyond the recess’s opening, waiting for him. Waiting for her husband.

“Come to me, my love,” Adam purred, a few moments later. His tiptoeing footsteps accompanied his voice. “Let us forget the game and enjoy the prize together. You must be finding it hard to breathe in that corset, my darling. Allow me to liberate you so that you may gasp and moan as loudly as you please.”

Nancy’s cheeks flushed with heat, but it was not the prickly warmth of embarrassment. Far from it.

“I can sense you, my love,” he called out as he appeared at the opening to Nancy’s hiding place.

She had to clamp her hand across her mouth to silence the gasp he had predicted. How was it possible that he could look more exquisite every time she laid eyes on him? He resembled a much-revered statue, standing there in the reddish moonlight, his skin still damp, his wet hair slicked back, his trousers clinging to him so tightly that she could see everything—every line of muscle that defined his powerful thighs, though it was the most unmentionable part of him that caught her dreaming eye.

I blame you for this, Joanna!

Joanna was the one who had told her all about the acts that occurred between a husband and wife who adored one another. And Joanna had not been shy about the physical details, deeming it an important lesson for all women to know.

All of a sudden, Adam turned around, his keen blue eyes looking directly at Nancy. “There you are,” he said softly. “I hoped it was the thought of me that had you panting like that, but I fear it was the running.”

“You have not caught me yet,” Nancy replied, grinning, and as she pressed further back into the shadows, she realized what the hard nudge against her spine was—a doorway.

Perhaps it had not been there before, her mind dreaming it as required, or perhaps she had already thought of it. Either way, she twisted the iron ring that served as a handle and stumbled into a new realm entirely.

She turned, awestruck, as Adam hurried to catch her. They were in an ethereal, circular garden, where willows and cherry blossoms rustled in a warm breeze, the soft petals of the latter drifting free like pink snow. Fireflies glowed in the trees, and paper lanterns were hung upon strings, turning the garden into a fairy glen. And in the center, on velvety lawns, blankets had been arranged with picnic baskets aplenty.

“It looks as if you found us the perfect spot,” Adam whispered, his arms slipping around her waist from behind.

She smiled. “I believe I was leading us here all along.”

“Indeed.”

He dipped his head, kissing the curve of her neck. And when his tongue tasted her skin, she no longer thought of it as strange and vile. A shiver of delight coursed through her.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you trembling?”

She turned slowly into his arms, pressing her palms to his chest. “Because of you.”

“Did I scare you?” he asked, pulling her to him.

She tilted her head from side to side. “You scare me sometimes.”

“I do?” He looked worried for a moment. “I do not mean to frighten you. What is it that scares you?”

She smiled. “This. Us. You. All of it. I am like a foal, stumbling through the first moments of its life, not knowing a thing.”

“Do not be afraid,” he told her, catching her mouth with his. A soft caress, just like the last time—the real time.

But Nancy understood the power of a kiss now, and even in her dream, she carried that confidence. And she could not suppress her hunger to know more, kissing him back with a fervor that might have startled her if she had been in the kitchen gardens, under the apple tree. In her dreamland, however, there were no rules and no consequences.

She kissed him hard, and he kissed her back with equal desire, his hands exploring the curve of her back, smoothing over the swell of her buttocks. And as his hands settled beneath her backside, he hoisted her up in one powerful motion, her legs locking around his waist.

“I will never hurt you,” he promised, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat, trailing his lips down to the plump rise of her bosom as he carried her toward the picnic blankets. “Never fear me, my love.”

Kneeling with her still in his arms, he slowly bent forward, taking her with him until she lay on her back with him above her, his weight pressing down. He paused there for a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes, his fingertips brushing a wayward strand out of her face.

“Why did you have to be so beautiful?” he whispered. “I never thought anyone could change me, and then… there was you. My medicine, my cure, my love.”

Her heart sang, her hands reaching for him, pulling him closer so she could kiss him once more. As their lips danced together, their tongues caressing, she felt his hardness pushing against the most secret part of her. A straining, as intense and overwhelming as the crush of his lips on hers.

And as it was her dream, she controlled it all. In the blink of an eye, she was no longer attired in a cumbersome costume gown, but the white nightdress she had gone to sleep in.

“You must not tempt me,” he warned in a soft, teasing voice, his fingertips making quick work of the pearl buttons that held her nightdress closed.

“What if I want to?” she challenged.

He grinned. “Then I am helpless to resist.”

He gently pushed aside the two sides of her nightdress and dipped his head, trailing kisses across her tingling skin before he unfastened the buttons of his trousers and peeled them off his muscular legs. Unable to imagine what the unmentionable part of him might look like, Nancy closed her eyes and reveled in his kisses, listening to the sound of his shallow breaths that whispered across her skin.

She knew what came next, in theory, but as she waited for the moment to come, her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, the sound of his breathing vanished. Confused, she opened her eyes… and found herself in her bed, in the turret chamber where she had retreated after that harpy had arrived.

The bedclothes were twisted around her, and her skin was flushed with a heat far greater than her recent fever, but she was entirely alone. Worse still, she did not know where her husband was, nor who he might be with… and that was precisely why any hope of her dream becoming reality was dashed.

He already warned me. He told me not to expect love.

She had not believed she was in danger of that, not then. But as her heart ached for what she could never have or even long for, thinking of their kiss beneath the apple tree, she began to realize that she should have heeded his warning more carefully.