Free For the Earl's Pleasure by Anne Mallory Page A

covers, ignoring him. Had heard small, uneven breaths from behind the drapes and wondered at them as he’d paced around the room trying to wake from his nightmare.
    And the darkened circles under her eyes spoke to the way she had tossed and turned until he had settled on her bed to watch her and brood. She’d fallen into a deep sleep then.
    “I can’t believe it.”
    “Me neither. I can’t recall a nightmare more dull than sitting for hours with nothing to do.”
    Watching her lips curl as she dreamed. Hearing her soft breaths. Thinking about things better left to the past.
    Nothing good could come of an admission that she had been truthful so long ago. Not only would it mean he had made a major mistake, it would also mean he really was dead.
    “Is it leftover spark? Or are you on a quest?” She looked at him, examining him from his feet stretched out near her seated hips to his head propped against the pole. “What quest though?”
    “To wake up again and have this all be an unfortunate nightmare.” He gave her a dark look, which she ignored.
    “How are your thoughts? Your memories?”
    He watched her for a second, unnerved by the question. “My memory is…hazy,” he reluctantly admitted.
    “As I said last night, it should become easier to forget.”
    His hands turned cold. “Forgetting should not be easier!”
    “Soon you will forget even me,” she said, a falsely bright smile on her face.
    “That’s not possible. I simply need to wake from this madness. But even in a dream, who watches someone else sleep for that long?” he asked somewhat absently.
     

    Abigail inhaled sharply. The admission caused a strange feeling to surge inside her.
    “The tea is hot and the scones are perfect,” a fluttering voice said from the corner of the room. “Come have a sip and let me tell you about Mabel.”
    “Yes, Aunt Effie,” Abigail said automatically, as Effie would chatter about Mabel no matter what response she gave. Abigail was too concerned with watching Rainewood— who was lounging on her bed.
    Rainewood frowned. “What?”
    “I was just answering.”
    “I didn’t ask you anything.”
    “I wasn’t answering you.”
    He stared at her. “Who were you answering?”
    “Great Aunt Effie.” She pulled back the hanging and pointed to the bright tea set in the corner. When he continued to look blank she stared back. “You mean you can’t see her?”
    He looked to the corner, his expression uneasy.
    She peered at him, trying to decipher this new puzzle as the morning shadows filtered through the slits in the bed hangings and flickered across his face. “I thought you would be able to see the others, since you are in my reality.”
    The two spirits from her past who had been somewhat like Rainewood had seen the others.
    “This isn’t your reality, it’s mine. And there’s no one there,” he said tightly.
    She blinked and looked at Aunt Effie who hoisted her tea cup and continued to chatter.
    “There’s no one there, Smart,” he repeated, his voice dark.
    She didn’t like the implications in his tone. She gave him a pointed look. “Were I to question Telly, she would say there is no one else on the bed either.”
    He watched her for a long moment, his face unreadable. “I can’t wake.”
    She held his eyes for an equally long moment. “I know.”
    “I’m not dead though. I’m in danger of some kind. I need to wake.”
    She didn’t know how to respond.
    “I’m not dead. This is a dream. You lied.”
    She knew he wasn’t referring to anything said the previous night. She stiffened at the dart to the past.
    “I remember leaving a hell and being attacked. Perhaps if I go there, it will cause me to wake.”
    Really, the term donkey had been too kind.
    He looked her in the eye. “Perhaps if I go there, it will cause me to wake.”
    “Then go,” she said woodenly.
    He looked back at Effie’s corner, the edges of his mouth tight. “Don’t you want to accompany me?”
    “Heavens no.