Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation)

by Graham, Genevieve

“What should I do?” I asked.

  “You sleep. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

  Maggie tucked me in, then accepted Andrew’s hand and let him lead her to their bed. I had thanked her and closed my eyes, then fought sleep with all my heart. I couldn’t allow the images back into my head. Couldn’t. I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to believe.

  Sleep claimed me anyway, and the fates saw fit to give me at least one calm, sweet night of sleep. I woke to the songs of birds and lay without moving for a few minutes, relishing the fleeting peace. I listened to the calm, rhythmic whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will! and prayed the rest of my day might be similar to this moment.

  But the hoarse shout of a raven disturbed my thoughts, and my chest tightened, remembering that Maggie had seen what I had seen. If only I could have dreamed a few moments more, stayed submerged long enough to see the ending, I’d know what to do.

  All I could think was that I had to tell Jesse, explain to him about the dream. He wasn’t connected to the nightmare from before. That I knew. So the only thing I could think was if I told him about that day in the woods, it might affect the dream I’d had about Thomas Black. I could see no other reason the two visions had intertwined in my head. But my heart sank at the thought of that conversation. I would have to open my heart and tell him of the men, tell him what they’d done to me, to my sisters. And by doing that, I would reveal myself, showing him I was no more than a dirty, loathsome whore, a defiled woman no man could ever truly love.

  “Well, you said you wanted to help me,” I said softly, staring at the ceiling. “You said you loved me.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t hate me. Maybe he’d just walk away, not wanting to see the disgusting truth every time he looked at me. I wasn’t sure which would hurt more.

  I heard movement in the front room and quickly pulled my clothes on. The autumn morning was chilly, so I wrapped a blanket around me as well, like a cloak. When I stepped into the front room, Andrew’s friend, Janet, was leaning over the big black pot, stirring something that smelled wonderful. That woman could cook anything.

  “Good morning, Janet. Sleep well?”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, startled by my sudden appearance. “Good morn to ye as well, Ah-dlaide. Can I get ye some parritch?”

  Janet was an absolutely beautiful woman, with ebony hair like the Cherokee and eyes the colour of summer grass. She’d come from Scotland with Andrew and the others, the only woman among them, and she seemed to me as brave as they were. Besides being attractive, she was efficient, smart, and funny. And she could cook. All the best aspects in a woman. Yet she remained unmarried. Maggie had told me it was by choice, that Janet had been approached by a great many neighbouring farmers, and some eligible bachelors in the town as well. But Janet was headstrong and wasn’t about to accept anything not exactly right. I didn’t worry for her. Maggie had assured me Janet would be very happy, and that she’d seen it would happen soon.

  “Porridge would be lovely, thank you. Is everyone awake?”

  “Aye, Andrew and Seamus are huntin’, but yer sister is still a-bed,” she said, leaning over the pot and dipping in a deep ladle. The porridge steamed as it was spooned into a bowl for me. Janet turned and pulled a jar from the pantry behind her, then held it up in question.

  “Honey?”

  I smiled and nodded.

  Janet bustled around the kitchen, then set my bowl and spoon before me. Beside that sat a plate of biscuits and some cold slices of ham. A pungent, light brown dollop of honey spread over my cereal as the heat melted it.

  “There are mornings when she’s up wi’ the sun,” Janet said, carrying her own bowl so she could sit across from me at the table, “and other times when the wee one tells her to sleep a while. This is one o’ those mornings.”

  We talked about this and that, about nothing at all, really. Janet was a wonderful girl, but we knew little of each other’s lives or pasts. And I wasn’t one to start that kind of conversation, since I didn’t want to share my history. If Janet needed to know anything, Maggie would tell her. But I did like sitting with her, listening to her talk about what was going on around their little cluster of homes, and hearing how sweet and attentive Andrew had been since Maggie had told him he’d be a father.

  “I ken some folk say it’s evil luck to talk o’ the child afore it’s born, but, well, ye ken Maggie well enough. She’d see if something bad were comin’. An’ she sees no clouds in her sky. She canna tell yet if ’tis a boy or a girl, but they’ve told us what they might call the bairn when it arrives.”

  “Really? What if it’s a boy?”

  “They’ll name a wee laddie after Andrew’s older brother, Dougal,” she said, her voice distant. A sad smile flickered across her lips, and she looked down into the porridge. “He was lost, ye ken. At Culloden.”

  I did know. They had told us about the massacre in Scotland, the one that had convinced the group of them to leave their devastated country. I gave her a moment of grief, then asked what they would name a little girl.

  “Ruth,” she said, her smile bright again. “Little Ruth. For yer wee sister.”

  It was my turn to turn away, lose myself. Little Ruth. Golden curls and laughter like tiny bells. Little Ruth, forever ten years old. I closed my mind, solidly refusing to remember anything more.

  “Sad,” she said softly. “And yet ’tis a good thing. To give the names of the dead to the livin’. We remember the dead, but with less sadness when it is connected with the joy of a bairn.”

  I swallowed the familiar lump in my throat. “Ruth would be happy to know Maggie decided to do that in her honour.”

  We both looked at our bowls a moment longer, then Janet started eating her porridge. I had lost my appetite but hated the idea of wasting food. I emptied the bowl, then discovered I had been hungry after all and helped myself to a slice of ham. By the time I was finished, Maggie was coming out of her room.

  “Oh, good. I was afraid you’d left already,” she said. “I’m sorry I slept late. I should have been out here with you.”

  “No, you needed the sleep,” I assured her. “Janet’s been taking good care of me, don’t worry.”

  Janet rose and took our dishes away, leaving Maggie and me to talk alone. She reached across the table and took my hands in hers. She frowned at me, waiting for my full attention. Then she spoke.

  “Addy, Andrew met the man you dreamed about.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. Thomas had been there? I hadn’t imagined it would be so soon. “What?”

  “Last night. They fought. Andrew said the man insisted he wasn’t leaving without you, so Andrew scared him off with his knife. Got him pretty bad, he says. Didn’t kill him, but by now he should be far away.”

  My sister and I looked into each other’s eyes, saying nothing, then Maggie closed hers. I closed mine as well, preparing myself for the strange yet comforting feel of her in my head. But the gentle prodding of her questions never came. No pictures flashed through my mind as they usually did. She let go of my hands and let out her breath. I opened my eyes, and she was already looking at me, her expression apologetic.

  “I can’t see anything. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve decided, Maggie. Knowing that you saw the same thing makes all the difference.”

  She nodded. “And how do you feel about that?”

  I gave her a half smile. “Like I was right all along. I never should have learned about my dreams. It’s terrifying, Maggie. I don’t know how you live this way.”

  “I never had a choice,” she said quietly. “It’s only now I’m learning how to turn away from them, but it’s not easy.”

  “At least I know I’m out of danger for now, since Andrew got rid of him.” Except for those forgotten monsters who ripped our lives apart, Maggie. I’ll never get away from them, will I?


  She sighed, and I knew she understood even without reading my mind. “What are you going to do?” I shrugged. “I have to go to the village and speak with Jesse, try to convince him of what I dreamed. He has to understand that because my dream was real, there was a reason I ran off on him. Maybe with Wah-Li there to help, he’ll believe. Poor man. He must be so confused. We were just getting close, and I sent him away without an explanation. I have to convince him.”

  “And what about . . . the other part of the dream?”

  “I’m going to tell him.”

  We stared at each other in silence, both of us knowing that by doing that, I was changing everything about my life. Maggie eventually nodded. “Good.”

  “I have to go this morning.”

  She sagged. “So soon? You just got here.”

  I felt bad, but it had to be that way. “I have to find him. I can’t let him stew on it. I’m sorry.”

  “Oh Addy. Of course you have to do what you feel needs doing. I only wish you could stay longer.”

  “I’ll come back and visit soon. I want to see you get big and fat.”

  She grinned. “I’m working on that.” She picked up a biscuit and took a small bite, swallowed and waited, as if wanting to ensure her stomach accepted the offering before she continued. When it did, she settled in with a hungry grin, helping herself to another after that, and two slices of ham. “The baby’s hungry. Sometimes it won’t let me eat much at all,” she explained. She finished the first slice of ham, then pointed her knife at me while she talked. “Iain will come with you. Andrew and Seamus have gone, but Iain will go.”

  “Oh no. There’s no need—”

  “Yes, there is. I saw what you saw, Addy, and we’re keeping you safe. Andrew scared the man off, but he’s not dead. You still need protection. If anyone can do that, it’s big Iain. Once you’re back at the village you can stay safe with Jesse and Soquili.”

  I turned to go, but she spun me back around to face her. She wrapped her arms around me and held me against her. Her breath was quick and warm on my neck. “Those men are all dead, Addy. You’re safe from them. It happened, but it’s over now. Don’t let them win.”

  Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn’t let them go. I nodded silently and swallowed, choking down the grief in my throat, then I moved out of her embrace.

  “Thank you, Maggie,” I whispered, then stepped outside.

  Iain was big. Like a bushy, red-maned animal, part bear, part lion. And though his size and the gruff tone of his voice were forbidding to strangers, to me it was a comfort. During our breakfast, he had been in the stables, repairing something for the horses, and now he returned, slapping his hands together to rid them of dust.

  “We’ll take my beast,” he offered, and I happily accepted. Riding back to the village would take less than half the time it had taken me to get there, and I suddenly felt in a great hurry to get to Jesse. Iain helped me onto the big chestnut mare and mounted behind me. When we ran out of things to talk about, we drifted into a comfortable silence.

  The horse’s rocking gait checked when he tripped on something, then he began to step awkwardly, listing a bit to the side.

  “Stone,” Iain grumbled.

  We stopped at a pond so he could inspect the hoof. While the animal drank, Iain dunked his head into the water, then flung his massive red mane back so that it sprayed everywhere. He blinked at me with a dazed expression, and I giggled.

  “Dizzy?”

  “Aye.”

  “Hey, Adelaide.”

  Jesse was suddenly there. He stood, leaning slightly to one side, at the edge of the pond across from us, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand. Iain was on his feet in an instant, sword drawn.

  I’d had no idea it was possible to miss anyone so much, but when I heard his voice, I wanted to run across the surface of the water to him. Iain held me back, extending one massive arm to block my path.

  “D’ye ken this man?” Iain asked, suspicion thick in his narrowed gaze. “Or is this the wicked creature MacDonnell told me of?”

  “Yes, I know him. This is Jesse.” I grinned. “He wants to marry me.”

  Iain looked unsure, but Jesse took a few experimental, limping steps toward us, wisely careful around Iain’s blade. He kept his own sheathed, posing no threat to the giant. I was shocked at Jesse’s appearance. He was filthy, and swollen with bruises. He raised one eyebrow while he looked Iain over.

  “Did ye meet wi’ a bear?” Iain asked, wary.

  I stepped closer, my hand out when I saw the large patch of dried blood staining his shirt. “What happened?”

  He glanced down toward the place where I was staring, looked at me, then back at Iain. His bruised expression seemed impressed. “That other fellow wasn’t kidding about him not being the biggest of you. You Scots must eat well.”

  Iain flicked his own bushy red eyebrow, unimpressed. “What say ye, lass? Am I to trust this man?”

  I stepped closer and pulled back the torn cloth at the side of Jesse’s shirt. The wound wasn’t terribly deep, but it was long. Blood had crusted along its edges, and the surrounding skin was black with bruises. I glanced at his face, but his eyes were trained on Iain. “What—”

  “Sure you are,” Jesse said. “Isn’t he, Adelaide?”

  “Isn’t he . . . ?”

  “Able to trust me. Come on, Adelaide. Pay attention. The big man wants to know if you’re safe with me.”

  Our eyes met, and I saw the pain in his, the questions I’d put there. He’d promised never to hurt me, but I’d hurt him, leaving him confused and alone. And yet here he was, halfway to Maggie’s. He’d come for me, and something bad had happened to him along the way. Guilt rushed in, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Yes, Iain. You can trust him.” I put my hand on Iain’s forearm, encouraging him to lower his weapon. “And even better news for you is that you can leave me with him. He’ll take me back to the village.”

  Iain’s sword slowly and noisily slid back into his scabbard, as if he were making sure Jesse knew it was still there and ready to be used at any time. Looking relieved, Jesse limped up to him, hand outstretched.

  “Jesse Black,” he said. “Good to meet you, sir. And thank you for taking care of Adelaide.”

  Iain’s grunt was one I recognized as grudgingly giving way. “Fine then. Iain MacKenzie,” he said, accepting Jesse’s hand. He squinted at me. “Ye’re sure, lass? He looks a wee bit black and blue. Bit shabby for my taste.”

  “You can thank your countryman for that,” Jesse muttered.

  “He looks that way a lot,” I told Iain. “I don’t mind. I’m getting used to it.”

  “And here I thought you liked me for my peace-loving spirit.” The wink he gave me looked painful. “Are you on your way back?” I nodded, and he held out the flowers, then his arm. “Might I have the honour of accompanying you?”

  I felt strangely shy around him. The last time I had seen Jesse, he had been a gentleman, to be sure, but one entirely physical, and one I couldn’t help wanting to grab onto. Now he played the formal role of a man courting, as if he were afraid of my reaction, and I hated that I’d made him feel that way.

  “It would be my honour, Mister Black,” I said, smiling and accepting the stems. I glanced up at Iain. “Thank you for bringing me this far, Iain. Please tell Maggie I’ll be just fine. I’m with Jesse.”

  Iain frowned down at Jesse, then nodded. “Right. I will. Keep yerself safe, the two of ye. There’s undesirables afoot.” He turned back to his horse, who was contentedly munching on clumps of grass at the pond’s edge. She lifted her head when he swung onto her back, then the pair disappeared into the trees.

  CHAPTER 31

  Revealing Dreams

  We hadn’t touched yet, other than the warm hook of his arm through mine. We hadn’t spoken, either, and I had a feeling
he was waiting for me to start up the conversation. He was unsure, which was sweet, but it also reinforced my guilt. I’d taken some of his confidence when I’d run from him. I’d have to figure out how to give it back. After walking maybe thirty feet, the quiet got to me.

  “What happened to you?” I asked.

  He shrugged, one eyebrow lifted over a crooked smile. “Some angry Scotsman wouldn’t let me past. He was pretty . . . serious about that.”

  “What Scotsman? Where?”

  “Back at your sister’s. I came to get you, and he wasn’t inclined to help me out with that.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “You came looking for me, and a Scottish man fought you?’

  “Yep. Dark-haired bastard with a mean left. I got him, though. He’ll have a limp for a bit.”

  But if Andrew had hit Jesse . . . “Was his name Andrew?”

  “I have no idea. I only got to know his fists. And they weren’t too welcoming. He said something about protecting his women. Hell, that’s what I’d come for. To protect you. Bastard never let me explain. Just kept telling me to leave, which I couldn’t do, of course.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip and frowned at the bruises colouring his face. “Did he—”

  “Man’s got a sharp blade.” He lifted up one side of his shirt, giving me a better view of the slice on the side of his stomach, just barely healing. I couldn’t help sucking in a gasp at the sight. It cut across one of the claw marks of his cougar scar, like a Y. “Protective son of a bitch, that one. Stubborn, too.”

  “Will you let me help you with it?”

  “Not right now. I want to keep walking for a bit.”

  “Okay,” I said sarcastically, walking beside him again. “As long as he’s the only one who’s being stubborn.”

  His smile quirked, forming a funny sort of lump where it was swollen. “Yeah, yeah. I just can’t figure out what put that bee in his bonnet.”

  “I think that was my fault,” I admitted, looking down the path ahead of us.

  “How’s that?”