had ever heard before. He grasped her by the upper arm and said her name, over and over again, trying to release her from the turgent grip of whatever nightmarish horror possessed her.
She became aware of his presence and stopped screaming to look at him. Her mouth was still in the shape of a scream and the pupils of her eyes were wild and dilated.
âYou promised you wouldnât leave me alone . . . but you did, you did. You knew Iâd be frightened . . . it hurts . . . please take it away . . . the pain . . . I canât stand the pain.â
Heâd thought, for a moment, that she was awake. Now he realized she was still in the dream, the nightmare.
âWhere is the pain?â he asked.
She whimpered: âYou know where it is.â
âNo, I donât. You must tell me.â
âItâs . . . itâs . . . the pain is here.â
She drew a line from the base of her throat to the hollow between her breasts. And the line stayed as a livid pinkness, a burn scar that hadnât yet faded. But she hadnât been burned in the car accident. Bruised, shocked, covered in mud. But not burned.
âIâve taken the pain away,â he said. âItâs gone.â
âGone,â she repeated dully. âGone.â
Her body relaxed, grew languorous. He began to enjoy the fragrant nearness of her, the soft feel of the satin skin beneath his fingers, and he knew it was time to go.
CHAPTER SIX
On waking, the first thing she noticed was the butcher blue and white striped pyjama jacket folded across the foot of the bed. It had not been there last night. She buttoned it on, and listened to the creak on the stair.
âAnyone for breakfast? Do you like boiled eggs?â His head poked round the door. âIâve done you two.â
âI love boiled eggs. I didnât expect waiter service.â
âNor will you get it,â he said. âAfter today. I donât cosset my housekeepers. I expect them to cosset me. Did you sleep well?â
âM-m. Lovely, thank you.â She was cracking the top of her egg and smiling up at him. She knew nothing about the nightmare. He wondered if he should mention it, but the last few weeks had bowled her nothing but shocks and he felt that now wasnât the time to ferret and probe, not while she was vulnerable from sleep. Perhaps later, perhaps never, if it proved to be an isolated incident. What had terrified her? Marked her flesh? And had she come to accept her disfigurement, or was it a still painful subject?
âYouâd better do some personal shopping today,â he said. âHereâs some money.â
âItâs too much,â she said, reluctant to touch the proffered notes.
âNo, itâs not. Youâll need a coat.â
âItâs still summer. What do I need a coat for?â
âYouâll find out. This is England, remember. Buy a couple of dresses, and a cardigan. Oh, and,ââhis eyes charged past hers and chased up the wallââa nightgown and a pair of bedroom slippers. But youâll know what you need.â His glance seemed to be fixed on the ceiling, his mouth wore a peculiar kind of smile. âIf thereâs anything left over, call at the butcherâs and get three decent sized fillet steaks for supper.â
She left off examining his expression to examine the money, maintaining a mute and stony silence. Still enjoying his own private joke, he tucked it under the brown earthenware marmalade jar. âBuy the meat locally. I like to support local tradespeople whenever I can. Youâll need to go farther afield for any decent clothes. Iâd recommend Todbridge, thatâs where we had lunch yesterday. Number twenty-nine bus, on the hour. The bus stop is outside the post office. Any comments?â
âYes. What the heck are you smirking at?â
âSmirking? Smirking? Whoâs smirking?â His lips smacked into a
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