The Dream (15 page)

She sighed. “Do you think we could leave?”

“In a moment,” Rayne said.

Jason paced in front of her, a lazy cat. But she felt the movement a façade, a way to get rid of restless energy. Why she sensed that, she did not know. In the last few years of her life, she’d become good at reading movements, small emotions. It had saved her sometimes, and more times not, regardless of what she did. Perhaps it had been to balance the bad in her life. A detector to at least know when the snake would strike, even if there had been nothing she could have done to prevent the attacks.

And
why
must her mind be trapped in the past tonight? Someone down the terrace laughed. Emily startled. Another laughter joined in. Voices drifted on the air.

“Why did you come outside alone?” Rayne asked.

Jason stopped and turned to face her. “Who upset you?”

His direct question made her smile. She shifted, but at the stab of pain in her shoulder, she hissed. This was all she needed.

“What?” Jason stopped in front of her and squatted down.

Both of them were crowding her. “Would you both please just stop and take me home? I wish to leave.” Emily cradled her arm and kept her fingers pressed to her neck.

Again someone down the way laughed.

Emily tensed, sat perfectly still and closed her eyes.

Rayne reached for her, but she shifted away.

“You must be chilled,” her uncle said. “Come, let’s go inside.”

Emily shook her head. “I cannot. I believe I am no longer presentable.”

“What?” Rayne snapped.

“Why?” Jason bit out.

She sighed. “I-I fell,” she lied. Now was hardly the time to tell them.

“Fell?” Jason asked, his voice quiet, disbelief evident even to her.

“Yes.”

“How?” he asked.

She glared at his shadowed form. “It was dark and I wasn’t paying attention. I tripped and hit the fountain.” She shrugged, forgetting and barely bit back the moan. “I hit my shoulder and I want to go home. It burns like fire and I think I might have scratched my chin.”

He moved closer to her and she shied away. “If you won’t take me home, I’ll go flag down my own hack.”

She was tired and she hurt and she wanted to leave. Now.

Jason studied her, wishing for more light. “Are you all right?”

Her short sigh warmed him, but not so much as her words. “If I was all right, would I be asking to leave?” She stood in a rustle of silks and he was obliged to stand up and step back.

Rayne mumbled something.

Where was moonlight when one needed it?

“I’m ready to leave,” she said, “with or without either of you.”

“Let’s go back in and retrieve your cloak,” he said. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye showed him Rayne, hands fisted on his hips.

“No,” Emily said.

“I must insist, madam.” He wanted to see her face, assure himself that she was not hurt. He took her left wrist, intent on guiding her back inside.

She whimpered and flinched.

Damnation.

“Please,” she whispered, “just get me out of here, Jason. Please. It really hurts.”

Jason bit down, felt the muscle in his jaw bunch. He inhaled, her vanilla scent wafted on the air between them. Damn the darkness. “Rayne.”

“What?” the other man turned.

“Would you be so kind as to retrieve your niece’s cloak? I don’t know which is hers and she doesn’t care to return inside.” He didn’t let go of her, but shifted his hold to cradle her left elbow. He noticed she then pressed her right hand against her neck. “We’ll wait in the carriage.”

Rayne’s shoes clicked across the terrace as he walked back into the house.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

A pause.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“I’ll reserve my own judgment on that.”

“I just want to leave.”

“Yes, you’ve made yourself clear on that point.”

Carefully, he guided her along the darkened terrace to the front of the house. There he easily found his carriage and stopped beside it. The lamps were lit. Emily kept her head down, but he was having none of that. With a finger under her chin, he eased her face up. Her cheeks were as white as his cravat, lines around her mouth tensed, her eyes glazed in pain. But it was the dark smear near her ear that drew his attention to her
jawline
. He moved her fingers with his own and saw the scratch. He traced the nick, followed her jaw back to her mouth, ran his thumb over the small scar on her top lip.

“This is an odd place to get a scratch.” He looked again at the thin trail of blood.

She didn’t say a blessed word.

Jason leaned forward, ignored her stiffening, and gently kissed the cut beneath the shelf of her jaw, then kissed the scar on her lip. Before she reacted, he pulled back.

He noticed her eyes dart from one side to the other.

“Can we please get in the carriage?”

Again she looked around. Jason watched her, looked over his shoulder, then narrowed his gaze back to her.

“How did you say you tripped again?”

Her eyes widened, and again she scanned the area. Searching…searching…for what? Or rather whom?

Anger licked in his veins. Very quietly he said, “I’d much rather have the truth, Emily.”

Emily frowned, licked her lips. “Why?”

He smiled. “Because, I detest lies. And I wish to know what really happened tonight in those gardens.”

Watching her eyes carefully, he saw the fear dance in them.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked, anger quickly turning to rage at the mere idea.

Her mouth opened, then shut before she shook her head. “I don’t understand you. Of course someone hurt me. I was shot in case you’ve forgotten.”

Jason took a deep breath. She was lying. “No, I assure you, I’ve not forgotten. And the feeling is mutual as I’ve yet to figure you out,
m’dear
.”

She cocked her head to the side. He started to help her up but stopped, noticing she cradled her elbow and not her wrist. Tilting his head, he reached up, took her hand and eased her glove off. Red marks wrapped around her wrist. His chest tightened even as he smoothed his fingers over the fine bones of her wrist and the telltale marks someone put on her. Nothing appeared to be broken. He glanced up and inwardly cursed at her wince.

Jason stilled his actions. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine.”

“As I said, I’ll be the judge of that.” He lifted her wrist and kissed the inside of it, the back of it. Nothing like he wanted to, but enough to let her know she mattered to him.

She tugged on her arm, and not wanting to hurt her, he let her go.

Emily grabbed her skirts in her right hand, still favoring her left arm, and let him assist her into his carriage. “Are you always like this?”

He sighed and told the driver to wait for Rayne and quickly settled beside her. “Like what?”

The rustle of her silk skirts mixed with the rattle of harnesses and the snicker of horses.

“So…so…” She waved her right hand.

“Yes?”

Emily huffed a sigh and turned to glare at him. Why was she angry with him?

“So in control. So…calculating.”

He thought about that for a moment, or perhaps less. “Yes.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“And you’re not.”

“I beg your pardon?”

The lamp lights were low, but still he saw her arched brow, the flustered look on her face.

Jason cleared his throat and ran a finger under his cravat. Damn thing was too tight. “What happened tonight?”

The carriage leaned as Rayne hefted himself inside, a copper silk cloak thrown over his arm. “I’d rather like an answer to that question myself,” he said.

Again Emily sighed. “It was…was… nothing.”

Jason took her hand and started, “I’ve already told you, I’ll be the—“

“Don’t say it. I can judge things for myself thank you very much. And if you must know, tonight was all your fault.” She frowned. “Or perhaps both your faults.”

A portion of her skirts fell over his legs as she shifted and settled the material. He could feel her foot tapping. She was disgruntled. Jason smiled and thumped the roof with his fist to let the driver know they were ready. The carriage pulled away.

“I told you before I am not your damsel,” she muttered, attempting to pull her hand from his, but he didn’t let go.

Jason, for the life of him, didn’t know why they were picking at each other like siblings—especially as he didn’t remotely think of her in a sisterly fashion—but they were.

“And what if I need a damsel?” he asked, settling back himself to watch her. He rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand.

“Then find another. I’m not in the market for a knight.”

Knights were scarred from battles. “A handsome king perhaps?”

Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “More like a page.”

“A page?” He laughed, surprised, and leaned closer to her. “So you want a man at your beck and call?”

She tilted her head. “The idea does have merit, does it not?”

“Depends on who the man is,” he drawled, and continued to caress the back of her hand.

“Enough.” Rayne muttered something else under his breath. “I want an explanation, Emily, and I want one now.”

“An explanation of what?” she asked.

Jason shook his head. Rayne muttered another oath under his breath.

“I don’t see the reason you should be cursing,” she admonished.

“I do apologize,” Rayne said. “But could you please enlighten us. What do you mean by our faults?”

Emily remained silent, then asked, “Who is De Fleur?”

If she’d said she could fly, Jason would not have been more shocked. For a moment, no one spoke.

“What did the bastard say to you?” Rayne asked, his voice furious and low as he leaned to rest his elbows on his knees.

Jason didn’t say a word as he too wanted to know what went on tonight to have her hurt, her shoulder paining her enough she couldn’t hide it, and the damn “scratch” on her neck? Jason bit down, fear mixing with the anger.

“I don’t believe the man likes either of you very much.”

“That is an understatement,” Jason muttered.

“Why?” she asked.

“He’s not a nice person.” To put it simply. “Now how do you know him?” He turned toward her, studying her in the low inner lamp lights of the carriage.

“I don’t
know
him. He also knows Uncle Rayne?”

“Yes. And could you not call him Uncle Rayne?”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel old,” he admitted.

“Well if the shoe fits…” Her grin relaxed him as nothing else had thus far.

“We’re only eight or nine years older than you,” Rayne said. “And you won’t get me off the subject that easily. So either tell it all now, or it will go very badly for you.”

She scoffed. “And what, Rayne? You’ll suddenly take to beating me to get an answer?” She shook her head. “What do the two of you actually do to make men want to commit murder to keep you out of their affairs?”

“
What
?” Rayne asked.

“Explain,” Jason snapped.

“How do you know De Fleur? Did he hurt you?” Rayne reached out and she moved back.

Emily took a deep breath. “Well, the man did shoot me.”

“How do you know this?” Jason asked.

“Because he told me tonight by the fountain while he put a knife to my throat.” She frowned and fingered the nick beneath her ear.

“Emily.” Jason felt the fear and anger collide into an ice of rage. He moved his jaw back and forth.

Emily looked out the window. “I went out for some air and wished for some quiet. The terrace was crowded so I took one of the shell paths.”

Little twit. Out alone.

“Are you out of your mind?” her uncle asked her. “I told you don’t go off alone.”

“You told me not to go off with a man. Now do you want to hear this or not?”

Rayne growled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the seat.

“I was standing in this lovely little arbor, about to return, when he was just…just there.”

Jason watched as she fisted her hand. The one he held, she fidgeted her thumb, tap, tap, tapping.

“And?” Jason asked, looking at her face.

Her eyes dropped to her lap. “At first I didn’t really think anything. But I wanted to return to the house. I tried to pass him and…” She took a deep breath. “He accosted me and…” Her voice fell flat and she looked out the window.

“How did you get away from him?” he asked, still circling his thumb on her hand. Emily was small and De Fleur was a known killer, as elusive as smoke. The man had taken out some of the Crown’s best men. The muscles in the back of his neck tightened until he could practically hear them straining.

She licked her lips.

“What happened.?” he asked.

Emily shrugged. “He forced me back to the fountain, bent my arm back up behind me so that I couldn’t move. I tried to hit him…” Her voice trailed off.

“And?” Rayne asked, impatience clear in his voice.

“He laughed. He said I was supposed to have died that night in the rain, as he doesn’t like to leave witnesses and it was my own bad luck for getting on the carriage to begin with. But he was glad I didn’t die, for this would be so much more…entertaining. Yes, he said, entertaining. I was to give you both a message.”

Her fingers twisted in her skirt.

“What was the message?” Jason asked softly. God, De Fleur!

“He-he pulled the knife. He’d shoved me to the ground, and I wouldn’t have moved in any case as he was digging into my shoulder. I was afraid I’d pass out.” She sighed. “Then he pressed the knife to my neck and said to tell you both to stay out of his affairs or next time he’d make certain I was dead and my blood would be on your hands. You stay out of his affairs, or he’ll make me his affair. And that even though he was soon returning to France, he’d have someone watching me.”

Jason fisted his hand, wanted to break something. Rayne’s curse pierced the heavy air around them. He shifted and turned her to face him, running his gaze over her yet again, studying the place where the bastard had cut her. The bleeding was sluggish. Thank, God. Just a little deeper and… He took a deep breath and locked his eyes on hers. “Are you all right?”