Dancing on the Wind (FA 3) by Putney Mary Jo

Author:Putney, Mary Jo [Putney, Mary Jo]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781849670029
Publisher: Rily Publications Limited
Published: 2010-03-15T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

In deference to the circumstances, Lucien produced two of his seldom-used nightshirts. Kit's enveloped her from chin to well past her toes. She looked delectable as she nestled against his side and quickly fell asleep. Though he was tired from a long day on muddy roads, he stayed awake longer, savoring the pure sweetness of having her with him.

Was her reluctance to marry general, or specific to him? Perhaps a bit of both. He'd have to convince her that he had no intention of clipping her wings and turning her into a domestic sparrow. She could be as much of a radical thinker under his roof as she was under her cousin's.

He dozed off, only to come awake with a jerk when Kit gave a choked scream and struck out with her left fist, almost smashing him in the eye. He caught her wrists to stop her flailing. "Kit, wake up! You're having a nightmare."

Her eyes opened, but she continued to struggle. "Kit, it's Lucien and you're safe," he said sharply. "You're safe."

Her thrashing stopped. "Lucien?" she whispered uncertainly.

"I'm here, Kit," He released her wrists and lit the candle on the night table. "Describe your nightmare."

"It was dreadful. I... I was wearing some strange, indecent costume, and I was flogging a man. He hung in chains, writhing as I struck him again and again." She gave a shuddering sigh. "Even though I was furious with myself, I reveled in every blow. The strangest thing of all was that I had the feeling... that he was enjoying it." She covered her face with chilly hands. "Do dreams reveal our inner natures? If so, mine is loathsome."

"Sometimes dreams show us ourselves," he said slowly. "But they can tell us other things." He stacked several pillows against the headboard to support himself, then cradled her against his chest. "Tell me any other details you remember before you forget them."

"A closed space—suffocating. Sweaty heat. The decor is elaborate and very vulgar." Fretfully, she undid the button that secured the throat of her nightshirt. "I'm wearing tight black boots with insanely high heels and a peculiar garment like a... a black satin snake skin. And a long wig. Red, I think."

"What did the man look like?"

She rubbed her temple, then shook her head in frustration. "It's fading away. I'm sorry. I need water." She sat up and swung from the bed, then collapsed onto the carpet.

"Kit!" Lucien dived from the bed and scooped her into his arms, then laid her on the bed and pulled the covers up.

She was white and trembling all over, but she managed a feeble smile. "I'm all right, truly. This has happened before. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

He paused, arrested, on the way to the washstand. "How often does it occur?"

"In a milder form this sort of thing has happened all my life." She exhaled wearily. "Lately it's been much worse. Now I'm not simply tired, but so drained I can scarcely stand, as you saw. The nightmares are new, too.

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