The Dream (26 page)

“What man?”

“Gave the name of Mr. Smith, a distant cousin to her late husband.” Rayne propped one booted foot on his knee. “Whoever he was scared Mother, she asked Emily and that’s when Emily went—and I quote—dead pale.”

“Mr. Smith?” Jason asked. “Did she say anything else? What the hell did he want?”

Rayne’s eyes narrowed on him. “Correspondence, though more to the point, your wife.”

He held the stare, then looked to Nick. “What do you think?”

Nick leaned against a bookcase. “Well, the first thought in my mind is someone playing either you or her. Lady
Redgrave
said Emily had no idea who the chap was, had never heard of a cousin, so I’m leaning toward some past acquaintance of yours.”

“Yes, that narrows the field,” Rayne muttered.

Jason sat and thought. He knew no Americans. Well, a few, but none came to mind who would want to harm him.

“The two things could have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Emily is, by the way, expecting. The doctor just left.” The two men wished him well and Jason nodded, accepting their well wishes. “She could have just been ill from that.”

“So why is the man looking for her?” Nick asked.

Jason thought for a moment, the look of fear in her eyes—was it all the baby? Or was it more?

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I intend to find out.”

* * * * *

The days passed with a creeping slowness. Emily couldn’t stand being in bed, but she read and played dolls with Joy. She tried to focus on the positive, knew Jason was trying to cheer her up with new gifts and time he spent with her.

Yet in the back of her mind, a clock seemed to tick insistently, as if her time were quickly running out.

And if it were?

She wanted to make the most of what she had left with her family.

Theodore. It was almost as if she knew,
knew
it had been he who went to see her grandmother. Some inner voice accepted it.

Dressed all in black.

An old-fashioned queue.

Strange green eyes.

Emily knew those eyes. They burned with the fires of dementia, of some otherworldly light. Others had thought he’d been gifted from God.

She knew he’d been cursed by the devil.

Sad thing was that if he’d been a kind man, he probably would have been blessed and gifted, but somewhere along the way, something or someone had warped the handsome, charismatic man.

To her, Theodore Smith was as handsome as those carnivorous flowers she read about. Beautiful blooms, bright and vibrant that snapped shut when their prey landed within them.

That was Theodore, a dangerous façade.

A small voice whispered that she should tell Jason… But she didn’t know how. She was married to another man. That meant her marriage to Jason was no more valid than the child she carried being legitimate.

What was she to do?

Perhaps she could find a way to keep both Jason and their family without a scandal.

Tell Jason
.

She knew he’d help her, but for once in her life, she was not going to slink away, hide away, cower away and hope that someone else could solve her problems.

She’d become more than that.

Rebeckah
had become Emily.

The house was quiet when a knock sounded at her door.

“Enter.”

The door opened and
Coleen
, carrying a tray, walked in. “This just arrived for you, my lady.”

“Lovely. I’m getting bored.”

Coleen
placed the tray beside her on the bed. “Are you feeling all right, my lady? You’re looking a bit pale.”
Coleen’s
cool hand slapped on her forehead. “At least you’re not coming down with something.”

Emily shook the hand off. “I’m fine.”

Coleen
tsked
. “You didn’t eat hardly a thing of your breakfast and it was only toast. His lordship was not pleased.”

“Yes, well his lordship is not the one who would have heaved it into the chamber pot either, was he?” She smoothed the counterpane down.

Coleen
chuckled. “Oh, I remember, my lady. I remember. I wouldn’t wish that sickness on anyone.”

Emily only smiled as her maid fussed around the room, muttering about this and that. She reached down and picked up the letter off the silver tray.

“You ready for this evening?”
Coleen
asked.

Emily set the letter aside. “I am, yes. I just hope I don’t have to dash from the dining room.”

Her grandparents, Rayne and Nick were coming for dinner.

“Well, I’m off.” She stopped by the bed. “Do you need anything else until I come help you get ready?”

Emily smiled and shook her head. “No. Thank you,
Coleen
. I’ll ring if I need you.”

When the door shut, Emily waited. Then, very carefully, very quietly she eased out of bed. Just her luck, Jason would decide to come upstairs. The man was driving her daft, carrying her everywhere, demanding she stay in bed. He worried, but she couldn’t lie in bed all the time. She could recline on the window seat just as easily and at least look outside.

Taking the letter, she walked to the little window alcove, and settled in. Without thought to the front, she ripped the letter open.

To my lying marchioness,

You thought you could run. Did you really think you’d ever get away? A woman’s place is with her husband. Remember Genesis 3:16. “Then God spoke to the woman…Your desire will be for your husband and he will rule over you.” I think you’ve forgotten. You will have to be reminded. It’s a pity, but it must be done. It always had to be done. Adultery is a sin and an abomination against God. You have sinned.

The letter shook in her hand. Memories dark and oily slid through her, made her stomach churn. She could all but hear Theodore calmly asking her to repeat verses, all the while hitting her.

Please, God. Please let him be dead. Please
.

Emily didn’t know what to do. Fear iced her veins, made her doubt all she’d built.

She didn’t want to think about it. At all. Calming her mind, going away, she drifted, pretending she was in the gardens at
Ravenscrest
.

* * * * *

He watched the curtains shift in the upper bedchamber. He knew which room his wife whored in. Knew it because he paid for the information and found out, not from the great and mighty marquis’ household, but the one next to it. A maid there was upset with one of the marquis’ grooms for not showing her enough attention.

Stupid wench.

He watched from under the trees as
Rebeckah
sat in the window. Too far to see exactly what she was doing, he hoped she knew he was here. Hoped she felt him near.

The time was coming. He’d watched for days the comings and goings and found out what he needed to know.

There was a girl child. One with dark hair and dark eyes—just like his.

She was his.

He shook his head.

No, not the same. Not the same. They were different, different. He nodded.

His head hurt. Rubbing it, he wondered how he was going to get
Rebeckah
out of that fortress. He watched a while longer and then like light from Heaven, he knew.

All those months with the savages had been for a reason. A divine reason to show him the way in his hour of need. He’d learned to move silently like these heathens. And silently he would move. Reach into that gilded cage and take what was his.

The fox to the bird.

Rebeckah
was his. By God. By law. And what did it say about her if she knew, yet said nothing?

Perhaps the marquis in his anger would let her go? Kick her out? Beat her himself?

Theodore smiled. Childish giggles danced on the air and he turned to the sound.

The child.

Dark hair.

His. No.

Dark eyes.

His.

“Joy,” the woman with her called.

Joy. He blinked. Joy. Not Mary.

Pain pierced his head.

Sins. Whore. How dare she have children with another man?

Tomorrow he would send her another letter.

* * * * *

Yesterday Emily had placed the letter away in her desk drawer and tried to put it out of her mind as she was getting ready in the marchioness’ bedchamber. She usually dressed and bathed in here if both she and Jason were preparing for the evening at the same time.

Again,
Coleen
knocked and entered with a tray.

Sliding further into the tub, she asked, “What have you,
Coleen
?”

Apprehension skittered along her skin, chilling in its wake.
Please, God, not another one
. There hadn’t been one all day and she’d looked, waited, watched. But nothing arrived for her.

“Another missive, my lady. Flowers downstairs too from Lord and Lady
Windbourne
.”

“For?”

“Why to congratulate you, of course. Babies are meant to be celebrated and the
Claymeres
and
Warrings
are known to be family people.”
Coleen
set the tray on a little table and brought it over to the side of the tub. “You ready to get out?”

Looking at the letter, white envelope, black writing, same as before, she tried to control the panic fluttering in her chest. Handwriting she recognized, she took a deep shaky breath and said, “No, not just yet. Go on. I’ll ring when I’m ready for you.”

When
Coleen
left, Emily stood and quickly dried off. Wrapped in her robe, the color of Jason’s best wine, she grabbed the envelope off the tray and ripped it open, stopping to listen for sounds from next door.

She stared, for a moment at the portal between the two of them and knew she should tell Jason. He had a right to know. But she couldn’t, didn’t know how. How could she tell him she was not his wife? That he held no claim on her? That their child, dear God, their child she carried was a bastard?

And once she spoke the words, she’d awaken. Her dream would be at an end.

The words of the letter mocked her. She could all but hear Theodore’s well modulated voice.

To the supposed Marchioness of
Ravensworth
,

How are you, my lady? Are you wondering who I am? Or do you know? How is your grandmother by the way? Such an unsuspecting woman. I do wonder what could befall a woman of those years? Or even her husband?

Our time,
Rebeckah
, of meeting is drawing nearer. I find I am rather impatient, but I have a plan that must be carried out. A lesson that must be taught. A punishment that must be enforced. You do remember punishment, do you not? God has shown me the way and I cannot stray, no matter what the temptations.

Fear slick and real jerked her into dark memories. Punishments. Pain. Tears stung her eyes. No. No. She was stronger than this. Sniffing, she finished the damn letter.

Do you recall in Jeremiah where God compares Israel to the sins of an adulterous woman? Appropriate, is it not?

I rather think so. Remember and wait for me. Contemplate how many lashes these sins require in order to purge you of your evilness.

No matter how hard she tried, the panic sparked in her chest, knifed through her stomach. Bile gushed up the back of her throat. She ran to the chamber pot, heaving until there was nothing left in her stomach.

“Devil take it,” Jason’s voice filtered through the blood pounding against her ears.

His hands on her shoulders held her as she shook. A wet cloth wiped her face.

“I should never have listened to you about this dinner tonight.” His hand smoothed across her head. “You should be in bed resting.”

Carefully, she wadded the note up in her hand and slid it into the pocket of her robe.

She could hear Jason speaking, but she couldn’t make out the words. Dull pain throbbed against her temples, pounded against her eardrums, weakened her limbs.

Shaking, she didn’t push Jason away as he picked her up and laid her on the bed, brushing her hair off her forehead.

…how many lashes…purge you of your evilness…

Her eyes slid closed and she wished, wished this—right here with Jason—were real. But darkness threatened and she didn’t know how to stop it.

God, please, please stop it, she prayed.
Else give me the strength to end it myself
.

“Are you all right?” he asked, softly.

Emily nodded. Jason rose, poured her some water and handed her the glass. He was always so gentle, so kind. After taking a sip and knowing it would stay down, she handed the glass back to him. “Thank you.”

He set it aside and studied her. His gaze, that intense, serious blue he reserved for few times, as though he were trying to figure out the secrets of the world.

She’d been afraid she didn’t deserve him. Now, she didn’t care if she deserved him or not, she simply wanted him. Wanted him and didn’t care what price she had to pay. She could not,
would
not, go back to Theodore, to being Mrs. Smith. She would rather die.

How many times had Theodore told her he loved her, only to have to show her, to
teach
her how much? It was because of his love that he had wanted to save her soul.

Emily reached up and cupped Jason’s cheek, noting her hand still shook. Jason. Strong, solid Jason had never once raised his hand to her, nor had he told her of his love.

But she knew. For him, it wasn’t the things he did, but the things he didn’t do. He never railed at her, never hit her, never beat her.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice catching.

His eyes widened, the blue darkening, his black brows arching.

“I’ve never told you that have I?” she asked.

One side of his mouth lifted. “Oh, I remember you mentioning it another time.” He laid his hand atop hers and kissed the inside of her wrist. “It’s I who have never told you.”

She put her finger to his lips. “There’s no need. From you, I see it, know it, feel it. You’ve
shown
me what love truly is, and that is more than spoken words could ever have done.”