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Eric’s mouth dropped, at a total loss for words. This was some dream. His dream.
“Are you happy?”
He rested a hand on her wet cheek, so badly wishing this was all true. Still, he couldn’t pretend about that. “Sorrel, this isn’t real.”
“Why would you say that?” her voice cracked.
He took her hands and peered into her eyes. How could this woman be a liar? he thought. She was guileless. “Sorrel, you never let anyone take your picture. Why is that?”
She shifted on his lap; her eyes lowered. “There are pictures of us on the mantel.”
“Those aren’t real.”
“Stop saying that.”
Eric tilted up her chin with his finger. “You can tell me. I’ll keep you safe.” He was a lying bastard.
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I believe you,” she whispered against them.
“Are you in danger?” The instinct to protect her rose within him first and foremost.
“I don’t know.” She curled up against him, begging to be held. He easily gave in and held her tight.
“Who would want to hurt you?” Besides his family, potentially.
“I don’t know,” she cried, frustrated. “I don’t know what is real.” She clung to his shirt. “Are you real?”
“Yes.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “I only want to be with you. Is that so wrong?”
Her declaration confused him. “Why can’t you be with me?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
He had a hard time imagining the shaking creature in his lap hurting him. Though what if she was more than who she portrayed? “How could you hurt me?”
“Eric, I don’t want to talk about it.”
Maybe she was in a relationship with someone else, he hoped against hope. “Is it the man in the vineyard?”
“What man?”
“The man you’re always walking with.”
She sat up and blinked several times, as if she wasn’t comprehending him. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
She was confusing the bloody hell out of him. He had to remind himself that this was her dream and she was probably just as confused. Which made him feel all the worse. But he had to extract the truth if he could.
“Sorrel.” He stroked her silky hair. “What did you mean when you said you wanted to bind yourself to me forever?”
She stilled in his arms. “When did I say that?” she stammered.
“Tonight, by the river.”
“I don’t remember.”
“How would you bind yourself to me?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know . . .”
He believed her.
“But . . .”
Eric perked up.
“I wish I did.”
Eric’s heart raced. He knew he had to carefully construct his next words. “What if I told you I knew how?”
She bit her lip. “You do?”
He nodded. “You just need to tell me where your book is.”
Fear flooded her eyes. “I can’t.” She didn’t seem confused about the mention of a book, like a normal person would be.
Eric clenched his fists, both afraid and heartbroken. This woman was his born enemy. The tales were true. He hated and longed to do what he did next. For the last time, he took Sorrel’s face in his hands. His fingertips memorized the creamy feel of her skin. He took note of the flecks of violet in her deep-blue eyes that were begging to be loved. Or were they cunningly deceitful? Regardless, he would make her believe his feelings for her.
He leaned in and brushed her lips before resting his forehead against hers. “I love you, Sorrel.” The words felt natural on his lips.
“Really?” Tears poured out of her eyes and dripped on his hands.
For a moment he hesitated. Her response seemed heartfelt. She stirred something within his soul, as dark as it was. But there was no retreating now. “Tell me where your book is so we can be together. We can live in this house and make love every day.” Eric could feel her cheeks burn. Damn it, he hated himself.
“I want to make love to you. But I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t, if you tell me where the book is. Please, I love you.” His heart felt too much truth in those words, and it wanted to break. He reminded himself it was all part of the book’s sick game.
“You really love me?”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
She wrapped her arms around him like a giddy schoolgirl. “There’s a hidden drawer in my nightstand,” she whispered in his ear. “But there’s a plant protecting it that will make you forget why you’re there.”
“It won’t be a problem.” He could move within the shadows if he needed to.
“But the book is broken.”
Broken? She must be confused. “I can fix it,” he lied.
She leaned away from him. Pure contentment radiated from her. “I knew there was something special about you. That you would protect me.”
He closed his eyes, wishing this was all a nightmare that he could wake up from. “I told you not to get comfortable with me.”
