“Of course, all did not go according to plan.”
“What do you mean, Perrin?” Thea’s mind immediately jumped to some unforeseen disaster.
He raised a finger to his lips, signaling for her to be quiet, and opened the door.
Thea peeked inside. An oil lamp burned on the bedside table of a massive carved wood bed. On the side of the bed closest to the light were Neal and her two sons, one snuggled up on either side of him, sleeping with a peacefulness that tugged at her heart.
Both boys were in their nightclothes. Their faces appeared freshly scrubbed. Neal wore his shirt, breeches and stockings. An open book rested facedown on his chest, as if he’d been reading and they’d all drifted off to sleep. He had an arm around each boy in a loose but protective hold.
Perrin quietly closed the door behind her, leaving Thea alone with her men and a feeling of such contentment that the ugliness of the preceding hours vanished.
This was what she wanted for her sons.
This was what Neal needed.
Moving quietly so that she didn’t disturb them, Thea prepared for bed. She picked the book up from his chest and read the title.Robinson Crusoe. Of course. She closed it. Neal’s eyes opened. He gave her a satisfied, sleepy smile.
Now it was her turn to place a finger to her lips, warning him not to wake the children. She needn’t worry. He wasn’t going to give them up. Still smiling, he closed his eyes.
Thea picked up a coverlet at the foot of the bed and pulled it up over her men. Then she came around to her side of the bed, where her nightdress had been laid out on a chair. It looked very forlorn and dingy amid such opulence. She turned down the lamp, changed her clothes and slipped beneath the covers, turning so that she faced her little family.
They were all so tired that not one of them moved.
She closed her eyes and joined them in sleep.
The room was on fire. Thea woke, startled to see flames rising from the handsome furnishings, the upholstered chairs, the drapes, the tables. She must not have turned down the lamp—
Her first thought was of her sons and Neal. She reached for them, but they weren’t there. The bed was empty save for her. She was completely alone—although she could hear a voice. A woman’s laughter.
She had to leave the room. The flames would engulf her. The heat was overwhelming. She put one bare foot on the floor and snatched it back. The floor was on fire. Her foot burned where she’d placed it down.
Flames started up the carved columns of the bed. Thea looked to the bedroom door. It was aflame as well. There would be no help coming from there.
The only thing she could do was sit in the middle of the bed and watch as the fire raced up the room’s walls and leaped across the ceiling.
She was sitting in an unholy inferno. And then, there was a cracking noise. The ceiling began raining fireballs down upon her—
Thea woke with a gasp, sitting straight up, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around wildly, expecting to see the room in flames—
All was fine.
The room was cool with the night air. The moonlight shone on intact chairs and tables ... and Neal and her sons were right there beside her in the bed.
The dream had been so real. Thea had to climb out of the bed and walk around the room to convince herself that all was well.
“Thea, is something the matter?” Neal’s sleep-laden voice asked.
She faced him. She could tell him about the dream, but that would be silly. “Everything’s fine,” she murmured. “I was just hungry.”
“There is a tray for you in the other room,” Neal said, yawning and closing his eyes again.
It was a long time before Thea ventured back to sleep again.
Life became better than Neal could ever have imagined possible. Thea and her sons brought a new energy, a vitality to the stately manse that had been gloomy for too long.
His first act as stepfather was to arrange for ponies for each of his boys. The first afternoon they went riding in the park, Jonathan fell off his. Brave lad that he was, he didn’t cry, even though his pride was hurt. Christopher took to riding as if he’d been born to do it. Neal couldn’t help butdraw comparisons between Jonathan and himself, and Christopher and Harry.
Chris named his pony Victor, a bold name for such a pudgy beast. Jonathan named his horse Chattan, in honor of his new family. Neal was deeply touched.