Dreaming Read Online Free Page A

princess could become hopelessly lost.
    A green for a lonely girl to weave fanciful dreams about. And dreaming was one of the few things she did well, because in dreams there were always happy endings. In dreams she could imagine anything, no matter how preposterous, no matter how unlikely, without the world outside knowing. In dreams she had a glimpse of perfection that never existed in the real world.
    So she dreamed that someday Richard Lennox would awaken with the sudden realization that he couldn’t live without her. She fancied their first kiss— which she practiced by pressing her lips to her bedchamber door—and she remembered every rare smile, every chance meeting, and the one time he’d actually danced with her.
    Oh yes, she remembered that time. Every girl remembered the first ball of her season, and Letty remembered hers as much, much more than merely a ball. She had been the damsel in distress and Richard, her knight in shining armor.
    Such a moment! If she closed her eyes she could still remember his scent. He’d smelled of sandalwood and raindrops . . . and heroes.
    She still had that dance card, hidden in special box along with her mother’s pearls, the nail James had used to slap that cow, and a small sampler with which her mama had taught her to stitch. It said:   “Speak from your heart.”
    After the debacle of her London season and the humiliation of her banishment, she had tried to make her papa understand. He, like everyone else, had known how she felt about Richard. It was no secret. But with that came the fact that her papa was also well aware of her disastrous history with the young man, aware of every plan gone awry, of every foolish thing she had done to win the attention of a young man bent on destroying himself without her help.
    Love had been her downfall, she had argued when her papa tried to talk to her. Couldn’t he even begin to understand? She’d been in love with Richard for half of a lifetime.
    Her papa had said that if things continued on as they had, half a lifetime was all Richard Lennox would get

     
    And here it was a year or so later that Letty was looking down at her love, lying so still, his blond head in her lap, his dark brows flecked with sand, those dark green eyes closed. She hoped her papa’s jest had not been prophetic. He had taken quite a nasty fall from his mount.
    “Richard?” she whispered.
    Her English bloodhound, Caesar Augustus, drew back his lips in a canine snarl and growled.
    “Hush, Gus,” she scolded. He blinked once, whimpered, then sank his large brown head with its floppy black-tipped ears onto his outstretched paws and watched her through bloodshot hazel eyes.
    She turned back and searched Richard’s face for signs of consciousness. She saw none. But there was little light—only one guttering candle nearby. As she had a hundred times since his fall, she stared intently at his chest.
    It rose and fell slightly. She gave a sigh of relief and moved her face just inches from his. “Please wake up, my lord. Please. You’ve been unconscious so terribly long.”
    He stirred, then mumbled something unintelligible.
    She watched him ever so closely, looking at the strong angles of his face, his square jaw stubbled with a bit of beard growth that was so much darker than the golden streaks in his hair. She slowly drew a tentative finger along his rough jaw, then touched her own jaw.
    She sat completely still for a moment, thinking. Deep in her chest, she felt a strange little thrill when confronted with the simple contrasts between a man and a woman.
    Unable to stop herself, she slid her hand into his large one, holding it. For the sweetest moment she just stared at their joined hands, looking at the difference in size, the dark hardness of his hand, the pale softness of hers. Then she sighed. “I’m here, my lord . . . my love.”
    He slowly peeled open one green eye, then the other. Both appeared slightly glazed, then they cleared and