Somewhere to Dream (Berkley Sensation) (17 page)

His lips were warm and soft and not afraid. I wanted that so much, to be able to carry confidence like that, to own it, to share it like he did. I tried, putting my hands on his bristled face and pulling his lips harder against my own. That fed whatever he was craving, and I felt a jolt of celebration, knowing I’d done something right, even if it was something that terrified me to my core. Or maybe it was because of that. I sensed his energy building, racing through him, and I longed to be a part of that.

Except I knew what was coming. I knew what he would want, and I vibrated with fear.

“It’s okay, Adelaide,” he whispered against my lips. “You’re safe.”

His voice was like fingertips brushing the hair from my eyes, like a breeze when the sun was so sweltering it threatened to take my breath, like water in my throat after that horrible, horrible day . . .

He lowered me gently to the ground, his breath warm, the feel of his hands reassuring on my arms, my waist, my face. His warmth took away the cold the storm was bringing. And slowly, without ever feeling an actual change, I realized my trembling now rose from something I’d never felt before. Not fear, not the familiar vibrations of terror that had shaken within me for my entire life. This was something deeper. Desire. Desire and need and . . . love? Could he be right? Could this be love?

My arms went around his shoulders, pulling him down, and the weight of him settling against me was a good weight, a healthy pressure, a welcome pleasure I’d denied myself for so long. His hands explored the curves of my body, but I felt no fear. The need I felt in him and for him urged the bubble of hope inside me to rise higher still, its shimmering border growing larger, holding me, binding him to me, until I wanted everything . . . and that was a good want.

I had no idea anything could feel as wonderful as this man’s body pressed against mine. I touched the warm skin of his chest, ran my fingers over the definition of muscles in his upper arms, explored the ridge of hard muscle across his shoulders and up his neck. When he nuzzled his face in to kiss my neck, my mind began to journey, like sinking into a dream, swirling among the warm shades of passion that wound through my heart. It was as if my thoughts reached out and searched for his. I felt it there, my dream, moving like a river, pouring into him, exploring, like a hand in the dark, searching . . .

Then everything crashed.

CHAPTER
25

Warning in a Kiss

The dream descended like a landslide, submerging me under layers of sharp, heavy images. Within my mind, the gurgling of rushing water was silent, the songbirds’ fluttering and chirping gone. The trees had ceased whispering, as if the forest paused to witness the violence I knew was coming. I had come there on my own volition. Something in me had needed to come, though I couldn’t yet place the reason.

In the dream, he was as clear as he’d always been on waking days. Except in the dream, Jesse lay facedown on the ground, unmoving. Fresh blood shone on the side of his face, dark with the fading light of day.

He couldn’t help me when I stood to face the demon. The creature’s face was shadowed by the vanishing lines of the sun, but I saw it well enough: a man with sunshine hair and a halfway smile just like Jesse’s. But these eyes were feral—no longer golden but gray as an approaching winter storm. Demanding hands gripped me, tore at me, and my struggles did nothing. I sensed Jesse everywhere in the violence—even
smelled
him—yet I knew it couldn’t be him. Jesse loved me. He could never hurt me. And there was so much hate in the grasping fingers, so much madness. I couldn’t escape, could do nothing but scream and wish myself somewhere else.

The wall I had so carefully constructed in my mind began to splinter under the onslaught. Chunks of the barrier crumbled into the abyss of my mind, opening me up to something I couldn’t bear to witness. But I had no choice. The hands were no longer part of the Jesse dream. They came from beyond, from the nightmare I thought I’d sealed safely away. So many strong hands, rough, dirty, hungry. I felt pinned in place like the skins we stretched to dry, inhaled pine and sweat and whisky. I couldn’t come up for air, and I couldn’t break free like I usually did. Both dreams wrapped around me like a braided rope, sending flames through my wrists as they burned . . . the burn I could never completely forget—

“Hey!”

No no no no no don’t touch me don’t hurt me please please

“Adelaide! Wake up! God, girl, wake up!”

No no no no no Jesse! Please, no no no!

Then a whisper, a soft tickle in my ear that brought the world spinning back with horrible clarity. “It’s me. Jesse. I’m here, you’re safe. Remember?”

My eyes opened, and he was there, kneeling beside me, eyes dark with concern. But it was all different. I scanned the trees around me, feeling my heart pound with a need to flee. No one else was there. But they had been. They’d broken through, come to find me again. I had to get away. How could he . . . The sounds were still fresh in my mind, the pressure of fingers bruising my skin, the stench of Jesse’s blood on the dirt. Oh, Jesse,
Jesse
 . . .

I pulled away, slid my body from his reach.

“What is it?” he asked. He started to reach for me, saw me flinch, and pulled back.

My pulse hammered frantically in my temples, loud in my ears. I struggled to my feet and backed farther away from Jesse, and he wisely did nothing but watch. Words weren’t forming right in my mouth, but they escaped nevertheless, tripping awkwardly over my tongue. I stared at him but saw instead the man with the gray eyes who looked so like Jesse. When I heard my voice, it was no more than a whisper, like the hissing of a snake.

“You have to stop him. It’s you. He’ll kill you.”

“Wha—”

“His hands . . . his eyes. God, Jesse. He’ll kill you, then he’ll take me . . .”

“Adelaide, please. What are you—”

I looked up at him, pleading. “He looks like you. But his eyes . . . So wild, so hungry. Not like yours. And yet he . . .” My eyes flew open with realization. “Your father! Your father, he—”

Jesse frowned. “Don’t you worry about Thomas Black. He has no place with you and me.”

“He wants to kill you. He wants to kill me, too.”

That stopped him. One eyebrow flicked up, and he hooked one hand on his hip. His voice changed, sounding skeptical. “Aw, come on, Adelaide. You can’t just say things like that. It makes no sense.”

I couldn’t explain, and my head spun with questions. I had to get out, get away. If I left Jesse, would the gray-eyed man leave my nightmare? Would he let me live? And the others, those men who had come crashing back through my mind—were they coming for me? Could I outrun them? I couldn’t see any answers, couldn’t know them because Jesse had woken me before I’d seen the end of the dream. The pieces of it were still there, shards of threat and fury ripping through my mind. My head felt as if it might split before I could get it all out.

But he couldn’t possibly understand. It was too much for me, so it was far beyond him. “I need to think about some things,” I told him. “I need some time to myself, all right?”

His hands opened at his sides. “Okay. I’ll just wait.”

“No. You have to go,” I said. I was gasping, having trouble catching my breath. “Go back to the village. I’ll come later.”

“But—”

“Please, Jesse. Just go.”

He frowned. “Hang on a minute. I don’t understand. One minute you’re fine, the next you’re making no sense. Don’t I deserve some kind of explanation?”

Of course he did. But how could I explain something to him when I couldn’t figure it out for myself?

I puffed out a breath and wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to contain the panic. “You remember that day I told you about my dreams, and you asked if that meant I was a witch?” He nodded warily, remembering how I’d reacted at the accusation. “Well, remember I told you that sometimes I dream things that are going to happen?”

“Yeah, but you said you were just learning how to do that.”

“I am. But something just happened, Jesse.” I clamped my fingers around my head, digging my fingers into my hair, trying to hold everything in so I wouldn’t completely lose my mind. “When you kissed me, the pictures in my head came so clear. And they were so scary. I just . . .” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly while he waited, still looking baffled. “I need to sort through what I saw, Jesse.”

“I’m listening.”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t do it with you. Not yet, anyway. I need to do this on my own.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t, either.”

His eyes were soft with hurt. He stepped carefully toward me, as if I might spook and run away, which I was tempted to do. But I made myself stand and waited until he’d come right up to me. “I want to help you, Adelaide. I want to be the one you come to.”

“I know,” I said, dropping my hands from my head and touching his cheek lightly. “But I can’t. Not now. Not yet. Please, Jesse. Leave me for now. I’ll follow soon. I just really need to think.”

His expression made me want to cry. How could I both fear and need him so much?

“I’m sorry, Adelaide. I’m sorry I scared you. I love you. You gotta believe that. I thought you were okay with me—”

“I am. I’m okay, Jesse. I’m . . . I just—I’ll come down soon. Please?”

He frowned, then nodded slowly. “All right.” He glanced down at my waist. “You got your knife, right?”

I gestured toward my hip, to the protection I always carried there. He backed away, then turned toward the path. He stood without moving for a moment, his back to me, and I could tell from the angle of his head that he was staring at the ground, trying to figure all this out. He glanced over his shoulder at me, chewing on his lower lip and looking torn.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone like this.”

I wrapped my arms around myself again and said nothing. He blinked a couple of times, then was gone.

I leaned back against a huge pine, staring at the ceiling of branches over my head. My breath was coming fast enough that I felt dizzy. What was happening? What had I seen, and why was the past returning after so long? And why, why was Jesse in the middle of everything?

I dropped to my knees and vomited, my body trying to get rid of the poisonous thoughts coursing through me. When I felt steadier, I stood and turned the opposite way from where Jesse had gone, then headed toward a small stream. I cupped cold water in my hands and splashed my face, trying desperately to think. Jesse loved me. He wanted to help me, but I’d sent him away. And yet I’d lied to him. I couldn’t do this on my own. I was lost.

No, I wasn’t. Maggie. I needed Maggie. I got back on the pathway and started on the familiar path to her home. I hadn’t been there in a few months. Not since Jesse had come. But I needed her now. I needed Maggie like I needed water and air. I started to run.

CHAPTER
26

Maggie

The rain caught up to me after about an hour, falling slowly at first, like a warning. Then it came faster and harder, until I was drenched through and shaking with every step. I ran much of the way, clutching Jesse’s shirt around me, following deer trails that snaked around heaps of granite and through groves of great oak and poplar. I ran to keep the blood pumping, trying to keep warm, ducking under soaked leaves that slapped my face, watching my steps so I didn’t stumble over slick rocks and roots.

It took a couple of hours before I saw their little cluster of houses by the river. Seeing them made me smile, because I knew Maggie was there. Her life had become so normal and good. I’d come running to a place where I could ask for help and receive something solid in reply. They had chickens now, I saw, and their four horses had welcomed a fifth. Strong draft horses—they’d have to be, since they had to carry the big Scotsmen. I started wearily down the last of the path toward her house, and though my body buzzed with happiness, I was too tired to run. I was here at last, and I felt I could barely go another step.

The lone cow heard me. She glanced up from behind the barn, big brown eyes blank as the wall beside her.

Andrew appeared first, emerging from the barn and standing under a protective overhang while he wiped his hands on a rag. Catching my movement as I exited the trees, he looked up the hill toward me and smiled, a line of white in his ruddy face, then I saw him lift a hand in greeting. He always made me happy, Andrew did. His soul was so open, though his thoughts were always hidden beneath. Like the Cherokee, he didn’t seem to be a man who knew how to lie. And his love for Maggie came before everything else. How could I not love a man like that?

But my steps faltered. It was strange to see him there, welcoming me. Maggie
always
greeted me first. She always knew when I was coming; dreamed it, I supposed. But she wasn’t there.

“Adelaide,” he called, his soft Scottish brogue changing the sound to “Ah-dlaide,” a distinction I loved. “What are ye doin’ in the rain, lass? Come warm yerself by the fire.”

“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” I assured him. “Is Maggie in there?”

Just the mention of her name changed his expression. He was at once soft and proud and charged with an energy I could actually see. “Oh, aye. An’ she’ll be right pleased to see ye. She’s a bit of somethin’ to tell ye. Go on in. We’ve broth o’er the fire to warm ye.”

And fresh bread. I could smell the heavenly aroma wafting outside the house as I came closer, pressing through the cool rain to warm my heart. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since early that morning. The journey through the woods, combined with the afternoon’s frightening experience had left me famished.

I didn’t bother knocking, just walked in. Strange again. If she hadn’t met me outside, Maggie should at least have been there to open the door. And yet Andrew seemed unconcerned. Happier than ever, if that was possible.

She was just taking the bread out. Steam rose in perfect curls from the three loaves she set on the table, though the room was warm, almost overly so. She always cooked more than was necessary, as did Janet in the other house. The men with whom they lived were big and always seemed hungry. I’d watched them devour a table full of meat, bread, cheese, and broth, as well as ale or scotch, without appearing to pause for breath. I was positive that no one in South Carolina cooked as much oatmeal as Maggie did every morning.

She glanced up when the door opened, and her face lit up. “Addy!” she cried, rushing toward me.

Suddenly she stopped, held up one finger for me to wait, then grabbed a blanket from near the fire. She slung it over my shoulders and grabbed me, bundling me inside the warm wool. I hugged her hard, breathing in the familiar scent of her, sweetened around the edges by the baking, and tears burned in my eyes. Maggie, my big sister, the one who always knew what to do, and not only because she dreamed of the future.

I pulled back so I could study her face. Most of her long, dark hair was tied behind her neck in a healthy tail, but wisps dangled on both cheeks. She looked like she’d lost weight, and her eyes were tired. I frowned. “Are you okay?”

Her eyes widened and she laughed, sounding strangely unconvincing. “Okay? Why would you ask that?”

“Because you didn’t know I was coming.”

She bit her lower lip, but her eyes were smiling. “I’m fine. Let’s celebrate your visit with some hot bread and butter with tea. Bo makes delicious butter.”

“Bo?”

She chuckled and set a plate of sliced dried apples on the table, then went back to pour tea. “I promised I’d try to learn some of Andrew’s language. Gaelic, it’s called.
Bò
is cow. I thought I might remember it better if I called her that.”

I could smell the sassafras tea, sweet and tart, as she set it aside to steep. My hands felt half-frozen from the trek through the rainy forest, and I dragged my chair closer to the hearth fire to soak in some of its warmth. I watched her flit from table to pot to larder, moving like a hummingbird, then hesitate, seeming to prop herself up against the long stone counter. In a moment, she was up and moving again, slicing two thick pieces of bread and drizzling honey on top, just as she knew I liked it. When at last she was done, she pulled her chair up near mine, but slightly farther from the fire. Then she handed me the bread and let out a deep sigh.

“I’m so happy to see you, Addy. I’ve missed you. Have you been busy?”

I nodded vaguely. “I guess you could say that.”

I wanted to unload everything, tell her about Jesse and my vision, but more than anything I wanted to soak in her presence. Sometimes when I got caught up in day-to-day events, I forgot how much I loved her. How just seeing her made me stronger. Except this time was different, I realized with a start. Because I already
was
stronger. Jesse had made me so.

He had taken it all away just as easily, and he hadn’t even known how.

“I came to tell you lots of things, Maggie, and to ask for your help. But I want to talk about you first. Tell me what’s happening. I’m sorry I’ve been away so long.”

She twisted her beautiful face into a frown, half-mocking, half-curious. The firelight flickered, turning her pale skin gold, but only making the dark shadows beneath her eyes look even deeper. She bit into the soft, doughy bread, chewed for only an instant, then swallowed. “But I want to know about you.”

“Oh, you will. But tell me your news first. Andrew said you had something to tell me.”

Her smile was immediate. “I do.”

“And why didn’t you know I was coming, like you always do?”

“I . . . I’ve been ill,” she said, looking away. “I haven’t been seeing much lately.”

“Ill? Why didn’t you send for me?”

“Because I thought I could handle it by myself.” She sat a little taller. “And I did. Andrew and I did.”

“So you’re all better now?”

I was relieved to see the sparkle dance in her eyes and know it wasn’t just a trick of the fire.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted, her face shining with joy. “Almost four months, we think.”

My stunned glance went reflexively to her belly, then back to her eyes. She wore a long homespun gown under a stained white apron, and I could see no telltale bulge. Not yet, anyway. But her hands dropped, fingers spread like a protective fence around the tiny inhabitant. Pregnant? I supposed I shouldn’t have been so surprised, considering how much she and Andrew loved each other. It was just that it seemed so . . . unexpected, I guess. Like she’d moved to a new level without me. Again.

Despite the shock, I was thrilled for her. “Oh, Maggie!” She was close enough to hug, so I leaned in and squeezed her tight. I felt nothing different about her physically, save the fact that her breasts pushed a little harder against me, so I assumed they were growing at least. The rest of her seemed smaller, not larger, and I realized she really had been ill.

“I’m going to be an aunt,” I said, smiling against her. “That’s the most wonderful thing I’ve heard . . . in at least two hours.”

That was cruel and unfeeling. I hadn’t meant to say that. And yet her eyes opened, the smile replaced by a look of curiosity. “Oh? What could be more wonderful than that?”

“I’m in love,” I said quietly.

That surprised her. Her jaw opened, only slightly wider than her eyes. “What?”

I gave her a half smile and shrugged. “I guess I am. He loves me. He told me a few hours ago.”

“Who is it? Not Soquili, surely. Adahy? Tsiyi?” She took another big bite of the bread, and I was glad to see she seemed to have recovered her appetite.

“Actually,” I said, grinning wryly. “He’s the one I’m
supposed
to be in love with, so it all works out.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

It was so strange to me that she even had to ask. Her whole life she’d known all the answers, never needed to ask anything. In the beginning, it had been dreams, visions, things she saw when she let herself drift into what I called the “half-place.” Not awake, not sleeping. Maggie had always known how to find that place. And after she’d met Wah-Li, it became so easy for her that she could simply close her eyes and just . . . know. She could speak with animals. She could cry out silently and speak to people’s minds. I tilted my head, studying her right back. It must have been odd for her, too, not being able to see what I was thinking. The gift she’d hated for most of her life, then valued, but never had to do without.

“Maggie, hold my hand.” She did. “Now,” I said, “tell me what I’m talking about.”

She didn’t even try, though I thought I saw regret when she shook her head. “I’m too tired, Addy. I’m trying to do the opposite. Trying to close my eyes to everything around me but Andrew and the baby.”

“You’re doing it on purpose?”

“In the beginning, it was just because I couldn’t. Oh, I was so sick, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t pull my weight around here, and of course everyone is needed.” She lifted one eyebrow and smiled sheepishly. “I was angry and terrible to be around, too. Andrew told me not to worry and tended me like I was a lame puppy.” She frowned. “I hated that. Hated feeling helpless. I . . . hated it so much I almost didn’t want the baby for a while.”

I blinked, shocked. Why hadn’t she sent Andrew or Iain to get me? I would have taken care of her, would have helped with whatever needed doing. But Maggie had always been independent. And stubborn.

“Does Wah-Li know?” I asked. She shook her head. “I’ll tell her,” I assured her, and she smiled. “Are you happy now? About having the baby?”

She nodded. “It’s easier now. I’m not as sick these days, though I feel like I’ve been dragged behind a running horse for three months. Now, well, now I can get around and do things. Small things, of course, because Andrew won’t let me lift a finger, but at least I’m not just lying around.”

“Wow,” I said quietly as the reality settled in. “You’re going to have a baby.”

She squeezed my hand. “And you’re in love.”

We let the flush of happiness die down and were quiet for a while, lost in our own thoughts. Maggie gazed at the fire, her hands absently caressing the flat plane of her stomach. I stared into the flames, appreciating the warmth while I scrubbed my fingers through my hair, helping it dry. I was so tired. The heat was lulling, the sweet, warm bread filling the hole in my belly and encouraging me to seek sleep. I wanted to tell her all about the village, give her the news, share all the stories with her, but for now it seemed right just to be sisters.

A thought struck me. “Maggie . . .” I mused. She glanced at me and lifted her eyebrows. “Have you thought about what this baby will be like? The child of you and Andrew? Two people with gifts no one else can imagine?”

“Of course,” she said with a slow smile.

The door opened and Andrew stepped inside, bringing with him the
shushing
of rain as it battered grass and leaves. The noise made me even happier to be warm and dry by the fire, and I snuggled deeper into the blanket. Andrew shook water off his coat and hair as if he were a big black dog, then latched the door behind him, leaving the room suddenly quiet again, with no sound but the occasional crack of the fire.

It took him no more than three steps to reach her, to lean down and claim her lips. She was lost to me in that moment, so complete was their connection. I loved seeing that their affection for each other hadn’t weakened even the slightest. Every time I saw either of their expressions when the other entered a room, it was as if they hadn’t seen each other in ten years. It was so beautiful, that love. The unquestionable connection I knew was so rare.

The connection I wanted more than anything in the world.

“We’ll go to Iain’s for supper this eve,” Andrew said. I glanced up, and he smiled at me, the lines of his dark, handsome face soft with ease. “Aye, I told him ye were here as well, and he was right pleased to hear of it. Seems he and Seamus have had enough of waiting for last month’s deer to age. Your visit only encouraged them to make a meal of it.”