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Authors: Amanda Quick
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actually.”
7
THADDEUS OPENED HIS EYES to the heavy gray light of a fog-bound day. For a moment he lay still, trying to orient himself. Nothing about the small room with its dingy green walls and grimy windowpanes was familiar.
From his position on the bed he could see his coat hanging on a wall peg. In one corner there was a rickety-looking washstand that stood next to a small, battered chest of drawers. The sheets on the bed did not smell fresh.
Memories returned in a rush: the fascinating woman with golden eyes, Delbridge’s poisoned vapor, the headlong flight in the private carriage, the knowledge that he would probably not survive the night, at least not with his sanity intact.
Leona. Last night her name had been a talisman.
He remembered the crystal aglow with moonlight and the compelling certainty in her voice. “I am going to walk through your dreams with you.”
He sat up slowly, pushing aside the ragged quilt. Cautiously he let himself recall the details of the struggle against the hellish world of dark fantasies that had threatened to engulf him. Mercifully the images were now no more than fading fragments, uncomfortably sharp in places, to be sure, but no worse than the memories of any other particularly vivid nightmare. He was no longer hallucinating.
The mysterious Leona had used the crystal to save him from descending into a hell from which he might never have returned.
Sorceress, he thought, smiling a little.
And he had repaid her by trying to force himself on her.
He stopped smiling. The shattering memory brought him to his feet. Perspiration dampened his brow. He had never before lost control the way he had last night. Never. The powers of self-mastery that he had perfected in order to deal with his hypnotic talents had served him well in all aspects of his life, including the realm of sexual desire. But last night the poison had induced in him a feverish lust that he had not been able to restrain.
Disgust swept through him. He had not even tried to control his ravenous hunger. In the grip of the hallucinations he had told himself that he had every right to take her. He had convinced himself that she was his true mate, the only woman he had ever encountered whose power matched his own. The only woman who had learned the secret of his talent and did not fear him.
Thankfully, her own talent had saved her from his predatory desire. She had managed to stop him. Nevertheless, the realization of how close he had come to hurting her sickened him. He would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Glancing down he saw that he was fully dressed except for his boots. He found them under the bed next to a badly chipped chamber pot.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and put on the boots. Where in blazes was he? He forced himself to think.
After the session with the crystal he had been overcome by an irresistible exhaustion. He had partially awakened when the carriage had halted, but he had been too groggy to take note of his surroundings. Leona and her companion had half carried, half dragged him out of the vehicle and into a room. There had been an unlit fireplace. He remembered that much. Also a man and a woman who looked as if they had been summoned from their beds. And a narrow flight of wooden steps.
It was when he had found his arms draped across not one but two sets of delicate shoulders that he had finally understood that Leona was not the only female dressed in men’s clothes. Her friend, the coachman, was also a woman. What was the name she had used? Oh, yes, Adam.
He recalled what Adam had said as she and Leona hauled him through a doorway. “Mark my words, we’re going to regret this. Should have left him beside the road.”
You were right, Adam, he thought. Neither of you has seen the last of me.
A light, tentative knock on the door snapped him out of his brooding memories. It occurred to him that he had no notion of whom he might find standing in the hall
7
THADDEUS OPENED HIS EYES to the heavy gray light of a fog-bound day. For a moment he lay still, trying to orient himself. Nothing about the small room with its dingy green walls and grimy windowpanes was familiar.
From his position on the bed he could see his coat hanging on a wall peg. In one corner there was a rickety-looking washstand that stood next to a small, battered chest of drawers. The sheets on the bed did not smell fresh.
Memories returned in a rush: the fascinating woman with golden eyes, Delbridge’s poisoned vapor, the headlong flight in the private carriage, the knowledge that he would probably not survive the night, at least not with his sanity intact.
Leona. Last night her name had been a talisman.
He remembered the crystal aglow with moonlight and the compelling certainty in her voice. “I am going to walk through your dreams with you.”
He sat up slowly, pushing aside the ragged quilt. Cautiously he let himself recall the details of the struggle against the hellish world of dark fantasies that had threatened to engulf him. Mercifully the images were now no more than fading fragments, uncomfortably sharp in places, to be sure, but no worse than the memories of any other particularly vivid nightmare. He was no longer hallucinating.
The mysterious Leona had used the crystal to save him from descending into a hell from which he might never have returned.
Sorceress, he thought, smiling a little.
And he had repaid her by trying to force himself on her.
He stopped smiling. The shattering memory brought him to his feet. Perspiration dampened his brow. He had never before lost control the way he had last night. Never. The powers of self-mastery that he had perfected in order to deal with his hypnotic talents had served him well in all aspects of his life, including the realm of sexual desire. But last night the poison had induced in him a feverish lust that he had not been able to restrain.
Disgust swept through him. He had not even tried to control his ravenous hunger. In the grip of the hallucinations he had told himself that he had every right to take her. He had convinced himself that she was his true mate, the only woman he had ever encountered whose power matched his own. The only woman who had learned the secret of his talent and did not fear him.
Thankfully, her own talent had saved her from his predatory desire. She had managed to stop him. Nevertheless, the realization of how close he had come to hurting her sickened him. He would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.
Glancing down he saw that he was fully dressed except for his boots. He found them under the bed next to a badly chipped chamber pot.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and put on the boots. Where in blazes was he? He forced himself to think.
After the session with the crystal he had been overcome by an irresistible exhaustion. He had partially awakened when the carriage had halted, but he had been too groggy to take note of his surroundings. Leona and her companion had half carried, half dragged him out of the vehicle and into a room. There had been an unlit fireplace. He remembered that much. Also a man and a woman who looked as if they had been summoned from their beds. And a narrow flight of wooden steps.
It was when he had found his arms draped across not one but two sets of delicate shoulders that he had finally understood that Leona was not the only female dressed in men’s clothes. Her friend, the coachman, was also a woman. What was the name she had used? Oh, yes, Adam.
He recalled what Adam had said as she and Leona hauled him through a doorway. “Mark my words, we’re going to regret this. Should have left him beside the road.”
You were right, Adam, he thought. Neither of you has seen the last of me.
A light, tentative knock on the door snapped him out of his brooding memories. It occurred to him that he had no notion of whom he might find standing in the hall
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