AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Something like that,” he laughed. He laid down by Edwina’s side, studying her face. He could not believe that she looked back at him without flinching, without recoiling in horror. Sleep started to take him, exhausted from their intimacies. His eyelids drooped, and he felt himself drifting off.
He woke in a bank of smoke and fog. The thunder of cannons exploded around him, accented with the whinnies of injured horses and the cries of frantic men. A weight crushed against his chest, and he realized his horse had collapsed on top of him. Warm dampness trickled down his face. Panicking, he tried to push his horse, but a searing pain shot up his leg. He cried out, the pain causing his vision to go white. He pushed again, desperate and shaking, but he could not free himself from the weight.
A man came upon him, his bayonet glistening with blood, pointed directly at him. He raised the musket above his shoulders, ready to drop the blade into his heart, but a shot rang out amongst the din. The man collapsed as his chest splattered Fergus in the face. He cried out again, frantically pushing the horse's weight, trying to drag himself out from underneath the dead weight.
He woke, twisted in the bedsheets, scrambling to free himself. A cry went up beside him, and he tensed, ready to defend himself. But, instead, he found Edwina clutching a bedsheet against her chest, wide-eyed with fear.
“Edwina,” he breathed, panting.
“It was just a dream,” she whispered, half to herself and half to him. “It was just a dream. Does this happen often?” she asked, crawling back underneath the sheets. She smoothed the blankets back out over them.
“Almost every night,” he explained, falling back against his pillow. Edwina lay on her side next to him, watching him with concern. “Though, this one was better than others.”
“Better, how?” she asked. He took her hand in his, placing it on his chest. Her fingers flattened, feeling the hammering of his heart within his chest.
“Did I shout this time?” he asked. “Cry out at all?”
“You sounded muffled,” she told him, her brows furrowed. “Like you were trying to shout but could not.” Feeling her hand against his chest seemed to help him calm more quickly. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes.
“After one of these dreams, I usually lay awake the rest of the night, afraid to go back to sleep.”
“If you have these dreams every night, you must not get much sleep.”
“No,” he whispered. “I have not felt rested in a very long time.”
“Would it help if I held you?” she asked gently, opening her arms up for him. He opened his eyes, considering her offer for a moment before rolling over toward her. Then, nestling against her, he closed his eyes, breathing a deep breath and smelling the scent of her skin.
As he closed his eyes, he no longer saw the battlefield. Instead, he pictured Edwina’s golden hair and smooth skin. He focused on the softness of her shoulder against his cheek.
“I think this might help,” he breathed, gently caressing her back.
“You are safe now,” she assured him, kissing the side of his head gently. “Try to sleep.”
To his surprise, sleep claimed him again, but he dreamed of golden hair framed by spring flowers dancing in the wind this time.
