“Will he?” Mary asked in a way that had them all wondering.
A tray of food and a full tub awaited her in her bedchamber. Mary wasted not a moment. She shed her garments and climbed in, a grateful sigh spilling from her lips as she sank into the hot water.
The heat soaked into her bones; she relaxed and her mind drifted. It would be difficult keeping her feelings for the Dark One hidden. Magnus was an astute judge of character, and Reena seemed curious and not averse to asking questions. She would need to be careful.
After eating far too much food, Mary found herself sleepy. She lay on the bed for a brief rest. She no soon as closed her eyes than she thought she heard someone whisper her name.
It was a harsh, familiar whisper, and then she felt the familiar feel of a leather-clad hand touch her face.
Michael.
She instantly became concerned that he should be there. It was too dangerous, yet he stroked her warm cheek with his cool leathered touch, and it felt so very good and so very right.
He ran his hand slowly down her body. I miss you.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, know he was real, not a dream, but he denied her.
Lie still, I cannot stay.
She wanted to cry out not to leave her that he should take her with him, but even in her dream her choice remained the same.
“Come back,” she whispered.
I am not far.
She reached out and took hold of his hand. He was solid, real, not a shadow. But then he was no longer a shadow to her, not since they had made love. Though faceless he was a man of flesh and blood.
What did he look like?
She wanted to see him, know him for who he was; it seemed imperative.
She tried to turn.
Nay!
He denied her. Why did he deny her? Her own safety? It seemed not to matter to her. What mattered most was that she saw him for who he was.
“Please, Michael.”
Do as I say, and you will be safe.
She tried to turn and felt as if someone held her down.
“Let me see you.” She struggled with the weight that held her.
You fight yourself. You fight the truth.
Mary grew agitated not understanding what he meant. The more she struggled, the heavier her burden felt.
She thought she heard him drift away and still she could not move.
“Michael?”
No answer, she panicked and fought against the weight that imprisoned her. She wanted to see him, know he was there, not a dream, lord she did not want it to be a dream. She wanted him there beside her.
She woke shouting, “Do not go!” with the light wool blanket twisted around her and her hair tangled and half-covering her face. A sense of emptiness filled her. Sitting up, she tried to free herself of the blanket and gasped when she spotted a shadow near the window.Chapter 21“Missing someone?” Decimus stepped out of the shadows.
Mary glared at him. “My parents.”
“Your tongue is quick.”
She amended his accusation. “My tongue is truthful.”
He stepped closer, his dark eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring. “You have much to learn.”
“We all do.”
He walked over to her, his hands grabbing her by the shoulders. “You will learn the truth once you wed me.”
“The truth defines itself.”
“As you will learn.” He shoved her away from him. “You have kept me waiting.”
“I was more tired than I thought and meant to rest only a moment. I am sorry for delaying our discussion.”
He seemed appeased by her apology, though she never actually apologized to him. She regretted wasting precious time on sleep more than she regretted speaking with him and discovering anything she could that might help free her of him.
“We will talk here,” he said and turned his back to her. “Finish dressing.”
She made haste to don the dark green tunic Reena left lying across the foot of the bed and snatched the soft tan leather boots from the floor to slip on. She ran her fingers through her damp hair, knowing there was not much that could be done with it, and finished by knotting a thin leather belt around her waist.
“May I offer you a drink or food?” she asked, letting him know she was now presentable.
“Wine,” he said and took a seat by the fireplace.
She handed him a goblet of wine.
He took it, stared at the red liquid, sipped, then sipped again before he said, “You may sit.”
Mary knew patience would be her strongest ally when dealing with Decimus. And she would need to remind herself daily of it. She chose the small stool nearer the hearth, feeling chilled.
Was it her own mixed emotions that caused the shivers? Or was it Decimus?
“It is good you know your place.”
“Perhaps you should define my place,” she said, hasty to add, “so that I know for certain what is expected of me.”