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See, that’s the thing. ” Komal settled herself on the sectional sofa and drew him down next to her, giving him the seat that gave him a clear view to Marguerite’s room. “The nightmare wasn’t that he was still alive, but that he existed to begin with. With him gone, that hits all the harder, the truth of that. Will it ever be better? Will she ever not dream of the nightmare?
“Think of the Holocaust victims. Hitler’s dead, the Third Reich is gone, but is it?
When you’ve been touched by that kind of evil, you know that it doesn’t have a specific face. It’s an underground river in the subconscious of humanity, ready to rise up at the least crack in the soul of a willing host. And the only thing that makes life worth living when you really understand that is knowing there’s someone out there worth living for. ”
“I’m here. ”
“Yes, you are. ” Komal smiled now, squeezed his arm. “It may take time, longer than you want or expect, but I think that’s the key. Let her know she’s not alone, that you’re here. You’re her raft. I’m just a phone call away if you need me for anything. ”
It was an easy task, physically. Staying with her, making sure she was always in his sight, talking to her, touching her. Caring for her bodily needs. Emotionally, he’d never done anything harder than watching those distant blue eyes refuse to focus on him, her lips refuse to speak, day after day, no matter what he did.
And he understood then how his wife had been unable to take those long, awful days when his detachment was absolute, his attentiveness apparently shattered beyond repair. He’d left her side in their bed night after night to sit on that landing, staring into the waters illuminated by moonlight. Too numb to search for answers, just going through the motions of living, too tired to talk to her, no emotions in him to respond to her.
He was gentle with Marguerite, spoke to her, cared for her, did everything necessary to keep the pain of her physical injuries to a minimum. Inside, his emotions ran the spectrum from fury with her for doing what she had done, to the terror of reliving the memory, to the frustration with her lack of response now when he had so much love he wanted to give her. He just had to keep offering comfort and reassurance with it, not knowing if it was disappearing into the black void of her mind that her blank expression seemed to indicate, or if deep inside that void somewhere his angel was receiving his love, using it to nourish herself and grow stronger, to take control back from the trauma that had seized her body.
Several days passed. Leila was glad to come every day in her capacity as nurse to check on Marguerite’s physical state and Tyler stayed in touch with Komal. Marguerite would sit up if compelled to do so, allowed Tyler to bathe her without complaint and carry her into the bathroom for Sarah or Leila to care for more intimate requirements.
Tyler would have willingly done
it all, but he was overruled by the two women who agreed that Marguerite needed to be the one to give her permission for that. Otherwise, he never left her. He laid her on a blanket in the garden by the statue while he worked with his orchids. Let her sleep on the sofa in his office or gaze out the window from the recliner as he made phone calls. Put her next to him in a chair in the solar as he ate breakfast and coaxed her to take a few bites. She chewed and swallowed without interest as the sun shone through the paleness of her skin. He was beginning to feel like he had a mannequin he moved around the house with him. It was dark outside and dark in his heart.
When he watched Komal drive back down the driveway five days later, he fought a weariness that threatened to make him weak. Marguerite needed his strength, not his impotent rage at a man who was dead. She’d killed him, slain her own dragon so it seemed, but as Komal had said, she’d discovered the dragon lay not in the man, but the memories that would not let her go.
He turned, went back in and up to the bedroom. In the growing evening, Sarah had turned on the side lamp and he saw she was brushing Marguerite’s hair, combing it out on the pillow, lifting her head as needed to straighten out the snarls.
“It’s as lovely as the manes of those horses you see in the arenas, the Lizzie horses I always call them. I thought it would soothe her to have it brushed. ” She put it into a loose braid, bound it with a piece of ribbon she’d found somewhere in the nooks and crannies of domestic supplies he knew nothing about. “I gave her an extra pain pill while you were with Mrs. Gupta. She seemed a little more uncomfortable tonight, I suspect because of the rain we’ve been having. It should make her sleep more deeply. ” Her sharp eyes studied him. “Maybe you should take one, too. ” Tyler shook his head. “Thank you, Sarah. I’m sure she’ll thank you, too, when she’s able. I’ll sleep with her now, so go find yourself some rest. We’ll take it slow in the morning. A late breakfast. If she’s up to it I’ll spend the day with her in the gardens. ”
“All right then. You just call us if you need anything. ” She slipped out, closing the door.
Tyler stripped out of his clothes, slipped in behind his unconscious angel. He touched the hollow of her neck, just above the cross and the ring strung on Sarah’s necklace. The diamond sparkled at him. As he caressed her there, another thought occurred to him. When he settled in behind her, he laid the curve of his hand from thumb to the end of his forefinger around the matching curve of her throat, where the heel of his hand pressed on the ring and cross, making her feel their presence as well as his presence in the area where she’d always been most emotionally as well as physically responsive.
Her body trembled, a soft murmur, a quiet plea. “Ssshhh…” He wrapped his other arm around her waist, brought her in close to the heat of his body. “I’m here, Marguerite. Your Master is here. ”
He felt the touch on his shoulder, insistent, and then a sharp blow, almost as if he’d been shoved, hard. A brief flash of a face he’d seen before, but whose name he didn’t know. He started awake, realized he was alone.
Years in military operations where he had to come awake with all his senses ready for battle kicked in. He understood in a blink the bedroom door was open and he was alone. He lunged out of the bed.
She stood on the railing of the landing, the marble foyer twenty feet below her. The sling on her arm had dropped on the floor. How she’d even gotten up there with the type of injuries she had he didn’t know, but she was motionless on her perch, staring at something just above her through the arched window that availed him a sight of the night sky. She opened her arms, the white satin robe he’d left on her fluttering out on either side of her like angel wings.
There were ten yards and a corner from the hallway to the landing’s catwalk. He covered the ground as if he had wings himself. As her body fell forward, he was already there, seizing her around the waist and spinning them, lifting clear of the rail and putting her on the carpet, pulling her off with enough force they both tumbled. He kept grim hold of her though, until he realized she wasn’t fighting him. The glaze of sleep cleared from her eyes. She looked startled, then that distant look came back into her gaze. She’d been asleep. She’d been fucking sleepwalking, the extra dose of the strong painkillers apparently allowing her to perform a feat that would have been prohibitively excruciating if she’d been conscious.
He pressed his forehead down on hers as she lay beneath him, relaxed, her breathing already even again, while his heart raced so fast he thought he might be having a minor heart attack. Fortunately, he felt no numbness in his arms. Lifting her in them, he took her back to bed. This time he used her robe sash and bound their hands together so she couldn’t leave again without his knowledge. He needn’t have taken the extra precaution, however. He stayed awake until dawn brought light into the room again.
In the morning, he was able to get her to sit up so he could take her into the bathroom and let Sarah assist her there. He insisted on handling her bath himself so he could do a thorough inspection of her injuries and make sure there were no new swellings, heat or bruises. He remembered her first day here, when she’d turned over control to him. She’d discovered pleasure in the quiet darkness underwater, found that it wasn’t empty and alone at all, but filled with the sensations he could provide and share with her. He recalled her apprehensive wonder, the incredible response of her lithe body. The assimilation of it all by her extraordinarily intelligent mind.
“How do women put up with all this?” He kept up a running dialogue as he washed her hair, made sure the thick length of it was rinsed clean, made sure he was doing nothing to aggravate her injuries. “I’m not saying I want you to cut it. I love your hair. I’m just appreciative and awestruck at all that’s involved in keeping it beautiful.
You know I’m going to mess it up. I’m going to put some man’s shampoo on it that will make it dry and frizzy, not be the way you like it, so you’re just going to have to tell me how to do it right before I turn you into Medusa. ” Putting the sponge down, he picked up a towel and raised her to her feet. And found himself looking into blue eyes that for the first time in days were focused on his face, his mouth. Somewhere deep she might be, but some part of her was listening, if only to his voice.
He managed, barely, to keep his voice steady, casual. “It’s not possible, you know.
You could never be anything but beautiful to me. I might not mind if you looked a little like Medusa to other men though. You get entirely too much attention for my peace of mind. You could have a bevy of Mariuses waiting on you hand and foot to satisfy your every desire, rather than having a cranky Master trying to tell you what to do all the time. ”
He pulled a robe over her shoulders, belted it and had to resist the urge to wrap his fingers in the ends, pull her to him and hold her tightly against his heart. “You’re going to need to snap out of it soon, anyway. With Chloe and Gen running Tea Leaves, you know Chloe will be having topless male waiters serve the tea so she can sexually harass your employees. ”
Something stirred in her gaze and he picked up on it as if she’d spoken. His heart lifted at even this minimalist form of communication.
“Chloe is doing fine. I’ve had Mac and Violet checking on her daily. Her parents came into town as well. He broke her arm and leg, knocked a couple teeth out. She lost a good bit of blood from the stab wound in her side, but fortunately he didn’t hit any vital organs. ”
