Page 45

Cold, strong fingers grabbed Meredith’s hair, twisting the thick golden tresses and yanking it tight.

Her neck was stretched and open, an inviting, vulnerable target.

First she felt the menacing grip of his fingers.

Then his hands encircled her throat. Closing, tightening, they pressed against her, choking her until she could get no air, could draw no breath.

She fought wildly, thrashing her legs, kicking her feet. Her arms were leaden. She could not lift them. Panicking, she tried to flee, to move away from the attacker, but she could not evade the strong hands so intent on doing her harm. Fear slammed into her chest. She could not escape!

Suffocating her scream of terror, Meredith somehow yanked herself away from the nightmare. She woke up abruptly, her skin cold and clammy, her breathing harsh and shallow.

She sat straight up in bed, glancing hopefully at the wing chair beside her bed. It was empty. No doubt Trevor had kept his word and waited till she fell asleep before leaving, but that thought brought her little comfort, for her bedchamber was now filled with an uneasy, lonely silence.

’Tis just a dream, it cannot hurt you . Meredith repeated the words in her mind as she shifted her back against the headboard and slowly lowered herself to her elbows.

With determination, she closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing, to calm her inner demons. But the images would not abate. Knowing she was clinging to her sanity by the barest of threads, Meredith threw off the covers in frustration.

She slid out of bed and felt her way to the far side of the room.

Her fingers found the window latch, and she quietly opened it.

The sudden blast of air surprised her, yet it relieved her as well, for the shock made her feel very much alive.

She stood there for several long minutes, breathing deeply, hoping the air would somehow cleanse her thoughts. It did not.

Perhaps it was the darkness, so sinister and complete, that was rattling her nerves. Meredith made her way to the low table and fumbled to light a candle. The soft glow momentarily calmed her nerves. She glanced back at her bed. The rumpled sheets and angled pillows were rather unappealing.

Meredith turned in the opposite direction and glanced at the door that connected her bedchamber to Trevor’s. There was no light shining beneath the door, no indication he was awake. She tilted her head and listened intently. All was quiet—no snoring, no rustling sheets.

For an instant she panicked, thinking he might not even be in his bedchamber. But no, he had promised her he would stay home tonight, and she believed he would keep his word. He must be asleep.

Meredith chewed nervously at her lower lip. Perhaps if she was very quiet and very careful, she could slip into his bed without waking him.

“That is where I really want to be,” she whispered, making up her mind. “Where I need to be.”

She did not bother to put on a robe. Padding barefoot across the thick carpet, she moved with stealthy efficiency and determination. Once at the door, she turned the latch slowly, so as not to make a sound. Swinging the door open, Meredith took a small step, halting in the doorway.

She extinguished her candle and set it on top of a large dresser.

Thankfully, Trevor slept with the curtains of his bed and the draperies of the windows open.

There was just enough moonlight streaking through the windows to illuminate the objects in the chamber.

If she was very careful, she should be able to negotiate the room without tripping over the furniture and raising a racket.

Meredith waited for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the limited light The shadows were thick, but she could make out the chests and armoires that lined the wall, the chairs and tables positioned around the room.

Trevor lay in the huge canopied four-poster bed, sprawled on his stomach. One arm was flung over his head; the other rested by his side. The sheets were bunched at his waist, revealing the well-defined muscles of his bare shoulders and back.

Meredith assumed he was asleep, though she stood too far away to hear the even rise and fall of his breathing. She needed to be closer. Crossing her arms and hugging herself, Meredith made her way silently to the bed. She hesitated, wavering a bit as she drew near.

Driven by fear, she had felt determined walking in here. Now she suddenly felt unsure at invading the marquess’s intimate quarters. What would she do if he refused to allow her to stay? That horrifying question kept her still and quiet for several long moments.

Uneasily, Meredith glanced about the room again.

Her eyes had adjusted to the moonlight, and she could now ascertain more specifically the contents.

There were several comfortable upholstered chairs, even a long chaise.

She could most likely be content sleeping in one of those for the night if absolutely necessary.

It was certainly far more appealing than staying in her lonely, empty chamber.

The sudden chime of the clock on the mantelpiece made her jump. Startled, Meredith’s fears surfaced, this time accompanied by anger. She despised these feelings of not being safe, hated the taste of fear. Yet she could not deny they existed so strongly inside her. Would they ever leave?

She advanced five steps closer to the bed, overcome with a strong and painful desire to curl up in Trevor’s arms and hold herself close to his chest until all her uncertainties faded.

Holding her breath to ensure she made no noise, Meredith studied him in the moonlight. She briefly considered slipping in beside him, but she loathed to disturb his slumber, uncertain of his reaction if he awoke and found her in his bed.

Trevor’s features were oddly commanding, even in sleep. Meredith slowly let out her breath, then drew in another and held it as the seconds ticked away. As much as she might want to, she could not simply stand here until the dawn broke.

There was movement on the bed. Trevor’s head lifted off the pillow. “Has something happened?” he asked groggily.

Meredith cleared her throat. “I awoke and found it impossible to return to sleep. I fear the events of this evening have left me excessively emotional.”

He studied her, though she doubted he could see much more than the outline of her torso in the moonlight. “You are a woman. It is to be expected.”

Normally his words and tone would bring a rise of indignation from her lips, but she had no right to anger, for he spoke the truth. “I hope I did not wake you,” she said.

He raised himself on one elbow, running his hand down his face. “I had only just dozed off myself,” he admitted.

“Then I apologize for disturbing you. But I did not know what else to do.”

“Do you want me to sit by your bed again?”

“No, for if I awake after you leave the problem will return.” Meredith hesitated, giving him a doubtful frown. “I was hoping a different solution could be found.”

Taut seconds passed while Meredith gazed into his eyes. Trevor returned her regard, searching her face intently before he looked away. “I suppose you could stay in my chamber.”

Meredith blinked. It was hardly the most enthusiastic invitation. “Are you certain?” Her heart stilled, waiting for his answer.

“No. But stay anyway.”

She looked around. “Where?”

He let out a loud sigh. “The bed is comfortable. And very large.”

“Are you inviting me to sleep in your bed?”

Trevor muttered something about summoning every last ounce of his willpower before throwing back the covers.

The simple gesture seemed to suddenly change the atmosphere in the room from uncertainty to anticipation. Though she had entered the room because of her fear, Meredith realized far more could result from her staying the night in her husband’s bed.

Her gaze dropped from his handsome face to his bare chest. She smiled seductively, as though at last acknowledging he was naked. Meredith slowly, sensuously slid over the bed, allowing her nightgown to ride up her thigh all the way to her hip.

The marquess’s eyebrows slowly rose as awareness flared in his eyes. Meredith could barely breathe. He leaned close and took her hands in his. He felt warm and strong, she thought, momentarily distracted by his touch.

“I prefer the left side of the bed,” he said solemnly. “I hope you don’t object.”

Meredith lifted her chin. “Not at all. Though I will warn you I am a restless sleeper who tends to spread herself all over the mattress. I will probably kick you mercilessly.”

He shrugged and gestured broadly. She lifted herself up and climbed in beside him. The motion caused a cascade of golden hair to fall over her shoulder.

“Your hair is exquisite.”

Meredith paused in the act of tucking the stray locks behind her ears. “Thank you. I have long thought of cutting it short, in the French style, but worry I might look like a boy.”

“Not with those curves.”

Meredith ducked her head in embarrassment, yet she was secretly thrilled he had noticed her womanly curves.

She settled herself stiffly on her back, careful to keep to her side of the mattress.

Stifling a giggle of nerves, she waited with eager anticipation for her handsome husband to turn to her with desire.

The minutes dragged, and nothing happened. Finally, Meredith turned to him in disappointment and frustration. “Are we truly going to sleep?” she whispered.

She felt his entire body tense at her question. He said nothing, but his thrashing legs and restless movements seemed to suggest he was fighting some inner battle. At last he groaned and turned toward her. He moved closer, nipped her ear, and whispered, “We shall sleep later, dearest. Much later.”