Dreaming Read Online Free Page B

filled recognition. Richard moaned like a man dying.
    “Are you in pain, my lord?” She frowned and reached out to gently stroke the bits of sand from his forehead.
    “What the hell did you do to me this time?”
    “You fell.”
    “You’re flicking sand in my eyes.”
    She drew her hand back. “I’m sorry.”
    He blinked for a moment. “I fell,” he repeated, as if he had to do so to comprehend. “Off my horse?”
    She nodded.
    “From the cliff path?”
    She nodded again.
    He tried to lift his head and winced. “What did I land on? The rocks?”
    “Your head.”
    He raised a hand to his head and appeared to feel around for wounds. “Good God . . . . ” He paused on a spot and gave a small groan. “What a knot!” He lay there for a second, his eyes closed, then asked, “Is anything missing?”
    “No.”
    He opened his eyes and pinned her with a stare. “Broken?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think so, my lord, but I can help you see if anything’s broken. You did moan a bit when you first awoke.”
    “That wasn’t from pain.” He sat up very slowly and looked straight at her. “Only the anticipation of all the pain to come.” He grimaced, rolling his shoulders as if they were stiff. He shook his head slightly, blinked, then took in the dark room. His express filled with dread. Facing her, he gripped her arm tightly. “Where the devil are we?”
    Gus shot up in a stiff protective stance, nose to nose with Richard, who quickly released her arm and said, “Never mind. Now I know where I am.” He scowled directly at Gus. “I’m in hell.”
    “I think you’re confused my lord.”
    “That usually happens when you and I are together, Miss Hornsby.”
    He was calling her “Miss Hornsby” and her heart dropped just a bit, because it always did something wonderful to her when he called her “hellion.” But he hadn’t called her that in so terribly long.
    “I’ve been told I have a habit of creating confusion. I don’t try.” She gave a small sigh. “I never thought you were confused, probably because you seem quite clear eyed when you shout.”
    He pinned her with a hard stare for a moment, then flinched slightly.
    “Does your head still hurt?”
    “Yes.”
    “I thought so. You look queasy.”
    With an even sicker look, he studied the dank surroundings of the ship’s hold. “I think I might be ill.”
    “Oh,” she said knowingly. “ Mal de mer .”
    “No. Mal de la femme ,” he said under his breath, then added in a flat tone, “We’re on a ship.”
    She nodded, leaning closer as she lowered her voice to a hushed whisper. “I believe it’s a smugglers’ ship, my lord.”
    He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. The silence ate at her nerves and she clasped her hands in her lap and nervously tapped her fingers together.
    Finally he looked at her. “What were you doing on those cliffs?”
    She flushed and stared at her hands. “Following you.”
    “I haven’t been back to Lockett Manor in over two years. How in God’s name did you know I was back?”
    “I heard the servants talking. One of the kitchen maids saw you leave the tavern and she told Cook, and . . . I, uh, overheard.”
    “Hiding in the back staircase?”
    Surprised, she looked up. “How did you know?”
    He gave a sharp laugh that held no humor. “Lucky guess.”
    Again there was no sound except the slosh of the waves hitting the side of the ship. She waited for him to say something, anything. But he didn’t. There was nothing but slap! whoosh , and an occasional creak. Unable to stand the silence a moment longer, she said, “I think, considering the situation, you and I are rather stuck together, my lord.”
    He gave a wry laugh. “That, Miss Hornsby, is the ultimate in understatement.”
    “Yes, I suppose it is,” she said with a sigh. “But since we are going to be together, I think we shouldn’t worry about formalities. You should call me ‘ Letty ’ or ‘ Letitia ,’