Page 55 of Mesmerized

Olivia shivered, cold, and realized for the first time that she was wearing only her nightgown, with nothing underneath. Her blush deepened, and she grabbed her dressing gown from the chair and wrapped it around her. “I—I must have had a bad dream.”

“What happened?” His eyes were grave and concerned, and despite the fact that she felt increasingly foolish over her momentary fright, Olivia found herself telling him about it.

“I was dreaming about Lady Alys.”

“The woman we saw?” He stared at her. “The one in our dreams?”

Olivia nodded. “She was dressed the same. And she was packing things into a trunk. Then all of a sudden we were in another room—the way things happen in dreams, you know. This room was round, and it sounded like there was a battle outside, and Lady Alys’s gown was torn and bloodied and dirty. And there was smoke. It was horrible, choking. But then I was awake and in my bed. But...somehow I was still choking!”

“What?”

“I can’t explain it. But I could not breathe. It was as if something was holding me down, pressing into my chest, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I felt as if I was suffocating. And—and there was this darkness around me. This sense of menace and evil. I knew—I don’t know how, but I knew—that it wanted me to die. I was terrified.”

“My God. And you were awake?”

“I thought I was. I suppose I must have still been dreaming. I guess I awoke, for suddenly I was able to move and breathe, but I had no sensation of waking up. I just started flailing my arms around and screamed and jumped out of bed. Then I took off running.”

“Wise girl.” Stephen pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly.

“I was so scared,” Olivia whispered. “I can’t tell you how real it all felt. And I thought—I was sure that I locked the door before I went to bed. Yet when I ran out of the room, the door just opened. It was not locked.”

“Do you think there was someone in here?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t see how there could have been. If there were, where did he go? But I felt someone—you know, the way you can feel that someone has come up behind you, and you just know they are there even though you can’t see them? I felt as if someone—or something—was here. And I was certain that it wanted me dead.”

His arms tightened instinctively around her. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he growled. “I won’t let it.”

He stroked her back soothingly, and Olivia melted into him. It felt so good to stand with him this way; she wanted the moment to go on forever. Wherever his hand moved, she grew warmer. The fear and the darkness were slowly receding. She made a soft noise, part pleasure, part relief, and snuggled closer. She could hear his heart speed up in his chest beneath her head, and his hand where it touched her was suddenly hot. Stephen laid his cheek against her head; her scent was in his nostrils.

“You cannot stay here alone,” he told her.

Olivia smiled and leaned back, looking up into his face with a flirtatious expression. “I am afraid, sir, that it would be quite scandalous for you to remain here all night. You are pushing the boundaries right now by coming into my bedroom this way.”

“Well, then I suppose I would just have to marry you, wouldn’t I?”

His words left her breathless. Olivia pulled away from him. His words were teasing, she knew, and for that very reason, they pierced her heart.

“Don’t be foolish,” she said shortly, crossing her arms and walking away from him.

He looked at her speculatively. “Would it be so terrible a thing?”

Olivia turned back, holding her head high in a proud, almost defiant pose. “I am sure you would not wish to risk marrying into the ‘mad Morelands.’”

“Ah,” he said, moving closer to her, his eyes smiling at her, “but, you see, some men prefer a bit of risk in anything they undertake.”

There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes or the underlying meaning of his words. Olivia was certain he was about to take her in his arms again, but this time to kiss her, not soothe away her fears. She waited, not moving away, an answering challenge in her stance.

Just before Stephen reached her, Tom Quick barreled into the room, shattering the moment. “Miss! Are you all right?”

On his heels came Joan, a dressing gown wrapped around her, her hair comically rolled up in rags to induce curls, the concealing nightcap half off her head. “My lady! I heard—they said it was you who screamed.”

“Yes, I did, but it’s all right,” Olivia hastily reassured her. “I had a bad dream.”

“It was more than a bad dream,” Stephen corrected. “She felt threatened.”

“By who?” Tom demanded belligerently. “You tell me, miss, and I’ll take care of him.”

“I don’t know. There was no one there. I am sure it must have been merely a dream.”