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Her bones fairly melted. “Yes,” she whispered, lost once more in her need for him. With a small smile, he let himself out into the hall. And she was left alone with only her thoughts for company.
His refusal to allow her to see him unclothed shouldn’t bother her as it did. She made her way to her armoire, determined to put the whole episode from her mind. She was to find him a wife in less than a fortnight, after all. Their relationship was purely physical on both their parts; neither of them was here to fix the other.
And yet…
No, she told herself firmly as she rifled through her wardrobe for an appropriate gown. No “and yet.” This was temporary.
Temporary.
And mayhap, she told herself as her gaze drifted from the dull dresses to the chest she had removed the pink ribbon from earlier, if she repeated that word to herself enough times she would believe it.
***
It was the thrashing that woke her.
Daniel had come to her bed again that evening, and they had spent the night in one another’s arms. She had drifted off with her head on his chest and his strong arm about her, his heartbeat in her ears. Just as she had the past two nights.
But there was no gradual waking to the rising sun and an empty bed. No, the room was still pitch-black, the night air chill on her uncovered body. And the bed fairly vibrating from Daniel as he trembled and twitched beside her.
Shaking the confused fog from her brain, she reached for him in the dark, laid a hand on his chest. His skin was clammy to the touch, sweat dripping from him. “Daniel,” she whispered. “Wake up, Daniel.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. Strange sounds were bubbling up from his throat, shouts strangled before they could find purchase.
She shook his shoulder hard. “Daniel!”
He gasped, lurching upright. “Wh-where—”
“You’re with me, Daniel,” she murmured. Heart pounding, not certain how he would react, she gingerly touched his arm.
“Margery?”
“Yes.”
Immediately she was in his arms. She gripped him tight, relief replacing her shock, despite the faint trembling in her limbs.
But when he would have kissed her she pushed him back against the pillows, reaching out blindly to find the covers, untangling them with fumbling fingers from his legs and pulling them up and over them both. Only then did she return back to him, curling up against his side.
His heart beat fiercely beneath her hand. “Are you well?” she asked.
“Yes.” He let loose a shuddering breath that stirred the hair at her temple. “Damnation, it’s been over a year since I’ve fallen prey to that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please.”
He seemed not to have heard her. “It’s just so damn real. I can see everything, hear everything. And that boy—”
She could hear the faint click of his teeth as he closed his jaw. Why? To stop from telling her about his nightmare? But she couldn’t stand the idea of him bottling it up, suffering with it alone.
“You can tell me about it if you’d like.”
Already his head was shaking his denial. “It’s not fit for a lady’s ears.”
“And when have I ever given the indication that I cannot handle it?” She caressed his chest to take away the faint sting of the words. “It might help, Daniel.” And then when he remained quiet, “What happened to the boy?”
His exhale was hot and ragged. “He was so damn young. And it was my fault he died. It was chaos. You couldn’t see for the smoke. And the mud. It had rained the day before, and the ground was sodden. I’d been jostled, slipped in the stuff, thought I’d be trampled. When I gained my feet again I took aim, pulled the trigger. Suddenly this boy was there, in front of me, one of ours. He was running from the battle. I would have let him go; God knows what horrible hell that moment was. No one deserved to live through it. But I couldn’t stop the damn ball. For a second I thought the gun had misfired; it was coated in mud, soaked through. But when the smoke cleared he was gripping his chest. Blood was seeping from between his fingers…”
Daniel shuddered beneath her. She moved her hand over his chest in soothing, gentle circles. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Again, he seemed incapable of hearing her. “I dropped the gun, ran to him. But it was too late. Too damn late. Blood was bubbling from his lips. He was calling for his sweetheart. And then he was gone. He was gone, Margery.”
