When he no longer felt that he was in danger of passing out, he lowered himself like an old man onto the bed to take his boots off, his breath short and sweat pearling on his forehead from the sheer effort of it. Closing his eyes, he reclined onto the bedcovers and prayed for the pills to take effect. Fast.
‘Dinner’s ready!’ Cassie called from the bottom of the stairs.
It was her second attempt at waking Lambert up, but, like the first half an hour before, it appeared unsuccessful. She couldn’t leave dinner much later. The pie would be dry, the vegetables mushy. She was getting hungry, having only eaten a banana and Salomé’s iced bun for lunch, and her granddad would be waiting for her – and worrying.
She climbed to the top of the stairs, called again and held her breath to listen, but there was no reply. She tiptoed along the corridor, careful not to trip on the folds of the dark red carpet, which was pinned to the uneven floorboards. What if he had fainted, or was too weak to reply or to get up? Of course, the man could also have decided to ignore her completely in the hope that she would go away.
Having done some cleaning upstairs that afternoon, she knew that he had chosen one of the rooms overlooking the hillside at the back of the house. For some reason, it hadn’t surprised her. He didn’t seem the kind of man who would enjoy the master bedroom’s four-poster bed, flowery silk wallpaper and Persian rugs… unless it was the view of the ruined abbey emerging from the mist like a ghost ship that had put him off.
She walked to Stefan’s room, listening to the sounds of his breathing, and called from the threshold. He still didn’t wake up.
Perhaps she should leave him to rest and go home, but he had looked in pain earlier, and it might be dangerous to abandon him alone at Belthorn. On the other hand, she couldn’t stay there all evening.
Feeling shy and awkward, she walked into the room and around the bed. He had left his bedside light on, and the glow made his features softer, smoother, and his skin golden. She watched his powerful chest rise and fall with every breath, and something stirred insider her. He said he’d been in Mali with Charles Ashville. Piers had told her that Charles had almost died in an ambush a few months before… perhaps it was where he had been injured too, why he sought solace at Belthorn, and why he wanted to spend Christmas alone?
Suddenly he moved in his sleep, his breathing quickened, and his face contracted, as if in pain. She’d better wake him instead of staring at him whilst he slept.
She walked to his side of the bed and put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a tap. ‘Stefan. Wake up. Dinner’s read—’ she started.
She didn’t have time to finish. His fingers encircled her wrist like a steel manacle and pulled her down. Her knees buckled and she fell forward on top of him. ‘Hey, what…?’ Her face rubbing against his shirt, she felt the pounding of his heart, breathed in his clean, soapy scent mixed with the smells of snow and wind, and wriggled to break free from his grasp.
He was still holding her wrist, but her other hand was free, so she pressed it, palm down on his chest, to push her body up until she was level with his face. ‘Stefan!’ she shouted.
He opened his eyes. The irises were a warm, shimmering gold. ‘Cassie?’
Immediately, his fingers loosened their grip on her wrist. She jumped to her feet and stepped well back, her heart pounding and her body burning. The whole thing has taken two, three seconds, but she could still feel the imprint of his hard, muscular body and the thudding of his heart resonated inside her.
‘I only wanted to wake you up to tell you that dinner’s ready,’ she said weakly.
He sat on the side of the bed, and raked his fingers in his brown hair. ‘I hope you don’t think I was trying to…’ He blew a long, shaky breath, and looked at her, his eyes filled with anguish. ‘I wasn’t trying to assault you or anything… I was just… dreaming.’
He gestured to the box of medicine on the bedside table. ‘These are pretty strong painkillers. I am sorry… It happens, sometimes. I dream I’m still over there. In Mali. It was pretty tough, and…’
His voice faltered, and her heart filled with sadness and compassion. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said quickly. ‘I suppose it’s my fault for sneaking up on you while you were sleeping, but I have been calling for ages and you didn’t wake up. So much for my loud voice scaring all the wildlife away…’
She smiled.
He didn’t smile back. ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll come down.’
Chapter Eight
He walked to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face. Gripping the sides of the sink, he looked at the grim reflection in the mirror. Droplets of water slid down the hair he hadn’t had cut for months, got caught in the stubble he didn’t bother to shave any more.
Never mind his scarred face, his backache, and the broken voice caused by the damage to his vocal chords. He was a mess. He was losing it. Again. The doctor at the military Val-de-Grâce Hospital had warned that the dreams would reoccur. Pushing the memories away and refusing to talk about what had happened wouldn’t help, he had said. Stefan knew he was right. He knew he needed to talk. But he couldn’t. Every time he started, his throat closed up, and the words wouldn’t come… So he told the doctor all he needed to get better was to be left alone for a few weeks.
It looked like he was wrong.
He grabbed a towel, dried his face, and combed his damp hair back with his fingers. He had scared Cassie, and no wonder. She must have thought he was going to hurt her, and God knows what else.
His back was still stiff but the painkillers had dulled the throbbing to a bearable ache, and he made his way downstairs.
‘How are you feeling?’ Cassie asked as he walked into the kitchen.
‘Better, thanks.’ He was well enough to notice that she made a charming picture, her face pink and dewy from the heat of the stove and framed by curly tendrils of blonde hair. Heat flashed through him as he remembered the sensations her soft body pressed against him had aroused, and how small and delicate her wrist had felt in his hand.
He cleared his throat. ‘Listen, Cassie… You don’t mind if I call you Cassie?’
She shook her head. ‘Not at all.’
‘You should call me Stefan, since it appears we are going to see a lot of each other,’ he suggested.
‘All right… Stefan.’
‘I am really sorry about earlier.’
She raised her hand to stop him, and looked at him, her grey eyes serious and kind. ‘You already apologised. It wasn’t your fault. Let’s talk no more about it.’
She gestured to the table where she had already set a plate, some cutlery and a wine glass. ‘Please sit down. It won’t be long.’
A napkin was folded on the plate and on top were two blue Post-it notes. He picked them up and looked at her. ‘What are these?’
She smiled. ‘Jokes I give my customers to cheer them up, courtesy of my granddad. Since you didn’t get one yesterday, you’re having a double helping today.’
‘You give your clients jokes?’
She winked. ‘Don’t forget that I’m the good mood fairy. I offer an all-round rescue service – rescue from dirt, dust and gloom too!’