Page 25

It came through the connecting door between his chambers and Laura’s.

Laura!

He crossed to the door and pushed it open without knocking, only to find her thrashing against the sheets, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps, caught between sleep and whatever was plaguing her mind. He hurried to her bed.

“Laura,” he murmured, touching her shoulder. “Laura, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Her eyes flew open, wild and unseeing. Her whole body flinched away from him before recognition dawned. Her long brown hair flowed in waves around her as she shook her head.

“Oh God,” she gasped. “She’s dead, she’s dead…”

She sat up too fast, her chest heaving, her hands trembling in the dim light of a single candle set on her bedside table. Her whole body was shaking, her mind caught in a relentless loop.

“It was my fault… my fault she died…” she stammered, half to herself. “If it wasn’t my fault, why would my father have treated me so?”

Nathaniel stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

For a moment, she was not certain where she was. Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room before settling on him.

Nathaniel opened his arms, and she let herself fall into them, burrowing against his chest as if she belonged there.

A shudder racked through her. Her breath was still coming too fast, too shallow. Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. She needed something solid to anchor herself, and she'd chosen him.

“You’re safe,” Nathaniel soothed, rubbing slow circles on her back. “You’re at Duskwell Castle. Nothing here can harm you. You’re safe.”

She didn’t answer. Or rather, she couldn’t. Her breathing was still so ragged and quick, her whole body shaking like a leaf caught in a wind she couldn’t escape.

Nathaniel drew back just far enough to cup her face in his hands. He tilted her head up until their eyes met, hers dark and glassy in the candlelight.

“Breathe with me,” he coaxed. “In. Out.”

He drew in a slow breath. She tried to match it, but it hitched in her chest.

“I… cannot…” she gasped.

“Again. In. Out,” he urged.

She tried again, drawing in a shaky breath through her nose, holding it, and then releasing it slowly through her lips.

He kept the rhythm going, low and steady, and slowly hers came back, gradually, to match it. He kept breathing with her until the wild panic in her eyes faded into exhaustion.

“That’s it,” he said softly. “There you are.”

“Thank you.” Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually have such terrible nightmares, and… Oh dear, I think I wet your shirt,” she said, pulling away.

“You needn’t apologize.” He pulled her back in and looked down at her. “Everything is all right.”

His proximity was overwhelming. They were so close that she could feel the heat radiating through his fine linen shirt.

His hands were still cradling her face, his long fingers resting against her jaw with a gentle, possessive weight that calmed her. Her hands did not release his shirt, her fingers curled loosely in the fabric over the steady thrum of his heart.

I had many nightmares before, but not once had my father or a servant come to my rescue. But Nathaniel did just now.

“Laura,” Nathaniel whispered gently. “Are you all right now?”

“I… I suppose I am. Though I am terribly embarrassed. This is not the impression I wanted to make.” She dropped her hands to her lap and wrung them. “It’s our wedding night after all, and I’m crying. I feel… foolish.”

“It is certainly not foolish. You were clearly distressed. Tell me, is there anything else I can do for you?”