Devil asked no questions but simply held her, stroking her hair, her back, his large palms moving slowly, hypnotically, yet without any sensual intent. His touch was pure comfort.
Honoria closed her eyes and leaned into his strength; a shuddering sigh escaped her, some of her tension drained. For countless minutes, she lay in his arms, listening to his heart, steady and sure, beating beneath her cheek. Like a rock, his strength anchored her; under its influence, the kaleidoscope of her emotions slowed, then settled-suddenly, everything was clear.
"Your phaeton." Twisting, she looked up at him. "It wasn't an accident-you were meant to die."
The flames lit his face; she could see his frown clearly. "Honoria, it was an accident. I told you-the axle broke."
"Why did it break? Do axles usually break-especially in carriages from the sort of carriagemaker you patronize?"
His lips firmed. "We might have hit something."
"You said you hadn't."
She felt his sigh. "Honoria, it was an accident-the rest is all nightmare. The fact is, I'm alive."
"But you're not supposed to be!" She struggled to sit up but his arms firmed, holding her still. "I don't have nightmares about deaths that didn't happen. You were meant to be killed. The only reason you're alive is…" Lost for words, she gestured.
"I'm a Cynster," he supplied. "I'm invincible, remember?"
He wasn't-he was a flesh-and-blood man, no one knew that better than she. Honoria set her lips mutinously. "If someone tampered with the axle, wouldn't it show?"
Devil looked into her eyes, unnaturally bright, and wondered if sleepwalkers got fevers. "The whole carriage, axle and all, was reduced to splinters." What could he, what should he, say to ease her mind? "Why would anyone want to kill me?"
He realized, instantly, that that wasn't a wise choice. Fighting his hold, Honoria squirmed and sat straighten "Of course!" Eyes wide, she stared at him. "Tolly-Tolly was coming to warn you. Whoever's trying to kill you had to kill him before he did."
Briefly, Devil closed his eyes-in pain. Opening them, he lifted her and resettled her, clamping his arms about her. Then he met her gaze. "You are weaving this from whole cloth-and from the remnants of your nightmare. If you like, we can discuss this in the morning, when you can examine the facts in the cold light of day."
Even in her present state, he could sense the rebellion within her. Her chin firmed, then tilted. Turning her head, she settled back against his chest. "As you wish."
Too wise to take exception to her tone, he waited, patiently, for some of her haughty tension to leave her, then tightened his arms again.
Staring into the leaping flames, Honoria reexamined her newfound certainty and could not fault it. She knew what she knew, even if he refused to see it. He was a Cynster male-he believed he was invincible. She'd no intention of arguing the point, any more than she intended to change her perspective. Her "facts" might not appear all that substantial in daylight, but she wasn't about to deny them.
Her life, her purpose, was now crystal-clear. She knew, absolutely, with complete and utter conviction, precisely what she had to do. He'd challenged her to face her deepest fear; fate was now challenging her to face a deeper truth-the truth of what she felt for him.
She would give him what he asked, all he asked, and more; she would let nothing-no one-take him from her. She might be his, but he was hers. Nothing under heaven could change that.
Last time death had threatened those she loved, she'd been helpless, unable to save them. This time, she would not stand by; she would not let any mere mortal steal her destiny from her.
Conviction, total certainty, infused her. Her earlier confusion had passed; she felt calm, in control. Focused. Aware. She frowned. "Why are you here?"
He hesitated, then answered: "You always sleepwalk during storms."
"Always?" Then she remembered the night Tolly died. "In the cottage?"
She felt Devil nod. Safe in his arms, she considered, then snook tier head. "That can't be right. It's been eight years since the accident. I haven't woken a
nywhere other than in my bed and I've slept in so many different houses, through so many different storms." It had only been when violent death had hovered close-at the cottage, and now, in the aftermath of his accident. Honoria mentally nodded, her conclusion confirmed. If death's presence was what evoked her nightmare, then death had stalked him that morning.
Behind her, Devil shrugged. "You walked tonight-that's all that matters. I'll stay until you sleep."
Her gaze on the flames, Honoria raised her brows. And considered that in some detail. Increasingly salacious detail. Then she grimaced. His muscles were locked, not tensed with passion but holding it at bay.
Turning her head, she looked up, into his face, all hard angles and austere planes. Raising a hand, she traced one lean cheek; at her touch, he froze. "I don't suppose you'd consider taking me to bed?"
His jaw locked; flames danced in his eyes. "No."
"Why not?"