Page 66 of His Wicked Charm

“I haven’t done that in years—walk in my sleep, I mean,” she said, surprising Con by offering the information without being asked. “It stopped after I went to live with Aunt Helena.”

“Did you do it frequently before that?”

Lilah shrugged. “Not at all when I was small. It began as I got older, and at the end, it was happening once or twice a week. That’s one reason why Papa sent me away.” Con wasn’t sure if Lilah realized that she sighed.

“It must have been terrifying for a young girl.”

“It’s terrifying for a grown woman.”

“I’m sure it is.” He pressed his lips to her hair. When she didn’t pull away, he rested his cheek against her head. Her hair was soft and fine, like silk beneath his skin. He wondered how desire could beat in him like a drum even as he wanted to shelter her. Reluctantly Con lifted his head. “When I asked you this morning, you were unaware you had gone to the maze last night?”

“I didn’t remember it. But when you said that, I couldn’t help but suspect.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s embarrassing. I thought about confessing, but I told myself I could control it now that I was aware of what I had done.” She sighed and said in a lower tone, “I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want you to know, to think...”

“To think what?” he prompted gently when she stopped.

“That I’m mad.” The words were almost a whisper.

“You’re not mad. You’re not even approaching the edge of madness. Trust me.”

“But how can I sleep so heavily that I don’t wake up through all that? I don’t understand how I could make my way to the Clock Room and not awaken. Not be aware of it. Or go out to the maze. It’s as if I’m drugged.”

Con stiffened. “Do you think you were?”

“No.” She sighed. “It would be a handy excuse. But it’s ridiculous. They would have had to drug me when I was a child, too.”

“Were you dreaming?”

“While I strolled along? No. At least, I don’t remember it. It’s as great a mystery to me as it is to you. And why, after all this time, did it start again?” She sat up straight, turning to look him in the face. “I’m not a child anymore. I should be able to control what I do.”

“You were asleep, Lilah.”

“But I’m still me. How can I do things and not even know about it?”

“I’ve no idea. But you aren’t the only one who’s ever walked in her sleep. It doesn’t happen because one is weak-minded,” he added when he saw she was about to protest. “People aren’t in control of their dreams. I think this must be very much like a dream, only stronger.”

“It scares me, Con. What might I do without even knowing it? What have I done?”

“Nothing reprehensible, if that is what worries you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you. I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything immoral. As you just said, you are still you, even when you’re asleep. And you are a good person—not because you abide by the rules, but because that’s what you are inside. You wouldn’t hurt anyone or commit any other sin.”

Lilah relaxed, snuggling back into him, and he curled his arms around her. This was dangerous. She was dangerous, though not in any of the ways Lilah was thinking of.

He wanted far too much to hold her, protect her, keep her from harm. He wanted, in short, to coddle her, something he’d never felt before in his life. Her. Lilah Holcutt. Who was about as cuddly and in need of protection as a hedgehog.

Why did it have to be Lilah for whom he felt this bone-deep need? Con had buried that hunger for her, ignored it, rejected it, but nothing seemed to eliminate it. It lay there like a banked fire, waiting to be fanned back to life. It had been there since he had kissed Lilah after the chase.

If he was honest with himself, it had been there long before that. Whatever his excuses had been for avoiding Lilah throughout the wedding preparations, at the root of it was the fact that when Con was around her, his thoughts went in a direction that was unacceptable. Indeed, perhaps it had begun even longer ago than that, from the very first moment when he had glimpsed those shapely legs clad in unexpected lilac stockings. It wasn’t a momentary whim that caused that explosion of passion the other day at Carmoor. It wasn’t the circumstances.

Con glanced down at Lilah. She had fallen asleep, her head on his chest. He could feel her breath against him with each exhalation, and it set every nerve in his body dancing.

But he had given his word not to touch her again. Just because he hadn’t realized how damnably hard it would be didn’t mean he could break the vow. However much he might want to sweep her up and take her to his bed. To kiss her, caress her, sink deep within her.