The Dream (34 page)

The tightness within him unfurled.

He tucked her under his arm and helped her along, afraid to pick her up, afraid he’d hurt her.

Rayne met him with his
Garrick
. Jason took the greatcoat and gently draped it over her shoulders. “Does it pain you?”

She gave him a small smile and said, “I’m cold, thank you.”

The woman hadn’t answered him.

To hell with it. He put his arm under her knees and the other along the small of her back. “We’ll be home soon. Hold onto me.”

“I always will,” she whispered against his neck.

As he passed the circle of men, he heard Nick saying, “Another interesting night, isn’t it men?”

Sheldon came up and asked, “What are you going to do with him?”

Jason didn’t look back over his shoulder as Damon said, “Why feed the bloke to the sharks o’ course.”

* * * * *

Jason sat up all night beside his wife and child. Helpless that he couldn’t immediately heal them. Angry with himself for not protecting his own family.

He turned and looked out the window. Dawn was breaking over London. Pale and purple. Nick, he knew, had sailed with the morning tide. Upon their return, Jason had looked at the still present Taber and informed him that if Napoleon invaded tomorrow, he did not want to hear of it. Rayne was left to explain things to their boss. Emily’s grandparents and his aunt were sleeping in guest rooms. And none of it mattered.

The only thing that beat relentlessly at him was that he had failed to protect what was his.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

He whirled, afraid Emily was dreaming.

“Emmy?” he hurried to the bed.

“Stop blaming yourself,” she whispered, her hand reaching across the spread to clasp Joy’s little hand. They were both in the same room. He was glad, if they hadn’t been, he’d have put them in one.

“You should rest,” she told him, shifting to move over.

Jason put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m not tired. Stay still.”

“Jason, I’m fine.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, keeping his voice low. “I’m not.” He picked up her hand, the bandaged wrist a testament to what she’d been through, as if her molted face didn’t scream it. “When I knew he had you… When I found Joy and thought… I couldn’t…”

He took a deep breath.

“I know,” she whispered, her hand turning over in his to lace their fingers.

“You don’t know. I’ve never told you.”

“And I said there’s no need.” Her eyes looked up at him, so full of love it made his breath catch.

“There bloody well is, madam. I’m the one teaching you about love, if you’ll recall, so kindly be polite and shut your mouth. It’s rude to interrupt.” He leaned over and kissed her lips. “I love you,
Emmaline
Claymere
.”

She grinned, blinked heavily. “The vicar’s not here yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he whispered kissing her again. “You’re mine, Lady
Ravensworth
.”

She pulled back. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

About the Author

Once upon a time, I decided to listen to the voices in my head.
What
was I thinking? They now demand attention and I try to comply, writing one story after another lest a character or my muse get their feelings hurt. Oh the agony! Had someone once told me I’d be a writer, I probably wouldn’t have believed them, but such are the surprises of life. Now, I can’t imagine not writing. Thankfully, my husband understands dreams and determination. Our family lives in Texas with a matriarch of a cat and the dog she thinks is far beneath her. When not writing, I’m usually found trying to catch up on housework or running late with the family.

Jaycee welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.

Cerridwen
, the Celtic goddess of wisdom, was the muse who brought inspiration to storytellers and those in the creative arts.
Cerridwen
Press encompasses the best and most innovative stories in all genres of today’s fiction. Visit our site and discover the newest titles by talented authors who still get inspired—much like the ancient storytellers did,
once upon a time
.

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