Page 9 of The Dreaming Beauty
“Aster?” a small voice said.
All eyes flew to its owner. The half-lidded eyes of Tansy White were open.
“Tansy!” Mrs. Wood reached for her hand.
“Aster, where am I?” Her gaze darted from aunt to aunt before finally settling on Marcus.
He should have looked away, greeted her, or even smiled. Instead, he only stared, the strangest sensation blooming in his chest.
Chapter 6
Tansy could not move hereyes from the gentleman standing by the door. She thought she’d dreamed the beautiful specimen into existence, but her dreams were notthatpowerful. His rumbling voice, deep like molasses, had made her imagine she was lying next to her husband and the family’s curse was finally broken.
Perfectly awake now, there was no doubt the man before her was very, very real, but he was absolutely not her husband. Uncommonly handsome, with broad shoulders, a trim waist, and wavy hair the color of dark honey that curled on the end, she thought it a shame to be awake and not be married to him, though she could not call gazing at him now any sort of sacrifice. His relaxed posture and masculine features carried a kind and approachable air, except for one thing. His eyes. They bored into her, probing her, for what she did not know.
And then she remembered. Everything. The shivering, the fireplace, her heavy eyelids. She sat up in alarm, clutching her blanket to her neck, and winced over a pulsation in her head. “Who are you?”
Aster pointed at him. “He’s the one who rescued you from your sleep-walking.”
“Sleepwalking?” Tansy sucked in her cheeks. When had that happened? She leaned back against the bed’s backboard, overwhelmed with the awkwardness of the situation. She reviewed again what she knew. There had been a violent storm and a strange house, a library, and a fire—but she had no recollection of this man. What must he think of her—a brazen woman who’d waltzed through his front door wearing a nightdress, of all things?
Groaning, she lowered herself a few inches in the bed. Her only hope was to encourage the lie of her sleepwalking and pray he did not have her committed to an asylum. According to some startling articles in the newspapers Iris collected, Yorkshire had five or six of the hospitals, some of which kept records of their horrible abuses, as if that was anything anyone wanted to remember. She could only guess such cruelty had no geographical boundaries since Bedlam was no better. It would no doubt be the same in Westmorland.
Her gaze found the stranger’s again, and she mustered a weak smile. “Sleep-walking is a common enough occurrence for perfectly normal individuals.”
He was staring again. Who was he anyway? How much power could he wield? She was immediately defensive. Her walk to clear her mind had been an innocent, albeit foolish, endeavor. Nothing she would have been ashamed of had the storm not come. Sleepwalking was supposed to be a lesser evil to her intentionally invading his home, but neither one sounded good when said aloud. Depending on how this man judged her and who he told, her reputation could be unsalvageable.
“How often does this phenomenon occur?” he asked, his deep voice far more at ease than what she saw in his eyes. Why wasn’t he laughing at her ridiculousness or having her thrown out?
Tansy glanced at her aunts. “I am not usually a sleepwalker, sir.” A vivid dreamer, yes, but not a sleepwalker. “We recently moved, and I have not slept well...” Her voice tapered off as she realized she’d been about to mention her need for a change of scenery. He needn’t know about her personal problems. He’d already had to come to terms with her breaking into his home, barely dressed.
“What she means to say,” Aster said, stepping in for her, “is that this won’t happen again.”
“Perhaps the storm and the fever played a part too,” the man said. “Either way, she must remain here a short while longer until the doctor returns. And if I know Mr. Jamison, he will not let her leave until she has had sufficient rest and this rain has cleared.”
Tansy shook her head, dread filling her at the notion of staying in the unfamiliar house a moment longer. She felt exposed here, as if all her secrets were ripe for the picking. “I feel much improved. Thank you for your kindness, but I must return home right away.”
Iris came up on the opposite side of the bed and put her hand on Tansy’s shoulder, keeping her rooted in place. “You’ll do no such thing. Even I can see the wisdom of you resting here a bit longer.”
Aster put her hand on Tansy’s opposite shoulder, her voice sweet but firm. “We are indebted to Mr. Taylor. It would be poor manners indeed to reject his generous offer to care for you.”
“Mr. Taylor?” Tansy whispered, panic rippling through her. “You don’t meanheis going to care for me.”
“Would that be such a terrible thing?” Aster whispered back, the pressure from her hand aiding Iris in keeping Tansy pinned to the bed. “He is the steward here, and the place is quite empty of anyone but the servants.”
Mr. Taylor cleared his throat. “My housekeeper or a maid will stay with you. You may be assured that all will be proper.”
Tansy tried to hide her face behind Aster’s arm. Must she be humiliated further by convalescing here?
“Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts,” Aster said. “Come, Sisters. Tansy needs her rest.”
With her eyes, Tansy implored Aster, then Iris, but both ignored her. Desperate, she looked to Daisy for help.
Daisy stepped around Aster, sympathy in her expression. “I thought you were kidnapped or, worse, dead.”
“I’m sorry, Daisy.” Truly, she was. It had been selfish and thoughtless to walk so far and get caught in a storm. Regret filled every inch of her.
Daisy patted Tansy’s hand. “You must sleep now. You will need your strength for when you return. Remember, you have promised to help me build a fairy circle. Aster said I could start right away, but I’ll need your help.”
