Free The Baron's Betrayal by Callie Hutton Page A

both their bodies. “I must wish you good night.”
    Marion’s hand dropped from his face in frustration. Had there been something heavy nearby, she would have popped him on the head with it. Perhaps that would induce him to stop this stubbornness. Before she could respond, he bowed slightly and turned, his steps beating a hasty retreat.
    She entered her room and barely restrained herself from slamming the door. But she did allow an enthusiastic stomp of her foot like a young girl. And it felt good.
    Blowing out a breath, she rang for Jane to assist her in preparing for bed.
    Hours later she continued to toss on her mattress, her feet tangled in the bed linens, her nightgown wrapped around her thighs. Kicking furiously, she freed herself and left the bed. She walked to the window, pulling back the drapes to reveal pale moonlight illuminating the garden below.
    Never in her life had she needed patience more than she did now. Tristan would not win this battle of wills. Whatever it took, she would convince him that whatever he thought of himself, it didn’t diminish her love for him.
    In fact, she was surprised and impressed with his abilities. Obviously his boxing and archery were keeping him in fine fettle. He knew his way around the house and even outside on the grounds to some extent. Although she found it hard to imagine being without her sight, she must not let pity get in the way of her determination to keep Tristan and their life together. A proud and somewhat arrogant man, he would never allow that, and that would cause him to shut her out even further.
    She let the drape fall back against the window and took only a couple of steps before a loud thump sounded, followed by what could only be described as a blood-curdling scream from Tristan’s room.

Chapter Seven
    Marion flew through the door joining their rooms, ignoring the pain in her toe from slamming it into the wall in her anxiety to reach Tristan. She gasped at the sight of him thrashing on the floor. Crossing the room, she dropped to her knees alongside him.
    His face was pale and covered with perspiration, his breathing erratic. Although his eyes were open and staring, she didn’t believe he was awake.
    “Tristan!” She cupped his face, gripping his chin.
    “No. No. Get back. The fire is getting too close to the explosives.” He shouted as if giving orders.
    Goose bumps broke out on her arms as she tried to wake him, but he threw her off and continued to thrash about. She fell backward from the force of his movements and landed on her hip. Pain shot through her, effectively blocking the pain in her toe.
    She climbed to her knees and shook his shoulders. “Tristan, wake up.”
    “Noooooo! Get back.”
    “Tristan!” She gave him a strong shake.
    She knew immediately that he had awakened. His body stilled, and his stiff muscles relaxed. “Marion?”
    “Yes. It’s me. I’m here. You were having a nightmare.”
    He closed his eyes and moaned, letting his head drop back.
    Marion gave him a moment to compose himself, then grasped his forearm. “Let me help you back into bed.”
    Tristan stiffened once more. “There is no need to help me into bed. I am not an invalid.” He brushed aside her hand and rose. Despite his claims to the contrary, he swayed when he stood, but quickly attempted to hide it by sitting on the edge of the bed.
    Marion sat back on her heels and regarded him. “I think you were dreaming of your time on the ship.”
    “Since lately that is usually the source of my nightmares, that is an excellent observation on your part.”
    She felt him immediately shut down, blocking her out. “You have them often?”
    After his quick nod, she continued, “Do you want to talk about it?” Although Drake had told her the story after he’d visited with Tristan, perhaps relating it to her might ease his mind a bit.
    “What is it with women that they believe if one talks about something, it will go away?” He used the sleeve of his nightshirt