On the fifth night Ashton failed to come home for dinner, and though Marelda waited up and carefully listened for the sound of his footsteps in the upper hall, she fell asleep, not realizing he had already passed with silent tread and closeted himself in his own suite. She might have consoled herself with the fact that Lierin was seeing less of him than she, but it was a hard reality to face that the twit would have free run at him after she left.

The house grew quite and subdued, and the last flickering flame was snuffed. Ashton went to his lonely bed and finally found the sleep he sought after much tossing and turning. It was later when he woke with a start. Staring into the darkness, he wondered what had snatched him so abruptly from a sound sleep. His naked body was clammy beneath the sheet, and he tossed away the covering to allow the cool air to dry the light mist of sweat. He rubbed his hand across his furred chest, feeling restless and uneasy, as if he had been plucked from a horrible nightmare. What had he found in his dreams that had been so distasteful to him?

He followed the path that his mind had taken through his slumber, and dark green eyes came in a vision before him and taunted him with their seductive gleam. Soft lips parted in a wanton smile, and wildly tossed red hair swirled around a temptingly curvaceous form that knelt amid a bed of rumpled sheets. His imagination was free to roam over the silken body, and though he realized he was becoming aroused by his thoughts, he let them wander on unhindered. Slender arms swept heavy tresses from off her neck, while she gave him a coy look that invited him to draw near and caress the full, delicately hued bosom and the slender hips and lithe thighs. In his mind he reached out and pulled her close, but in the next instant sharp talons cruelly raked him, and in his imagination he jerked back to see a hissing witch glaring at him with hatred-filled eyes. This was not his Lierin! This was some madwoman of his dreams! A witch with red hair!

Of a sudden he knew the reason for his abrupt awakening. His dreams of Lierin had turned to ones of tormenting doubt. A familiar sense of despair returned as fragmented memories flitted through his mind. He had seen Lierin taken from him by the strong, dark currents of the river, a river he had known for a good part of his life, one that refused to yield its prey even under the best of conditions. The question rose to haunt him. How could a slender young woman have found her way safely to shore in the dead of night when, even with the best of circumstances, it would have been impossible to discern the river’s edge?

Deep within his reasoning there came a brief trembling of trepidation that there remained some remote chance that he was wrong. After all, many questions were as yet unanswered, and those answers might not be in tune with his desire.

The uncertainties attacked him unmercifully, raking him over the glowing coals of logic. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and braced his elbows against his knees as he hung his head in a moment of roweling fear.

“What is the truth?” His mind would not let him rest on the matter. “Is she my Lierin or some wayward wench who wears only the outer shell?”

He rose to light the lamp beside his bed, then drew on a pair of trousers. He touched the wick of a candle to the glowing flame, then left his chamber to move barefoot down the hall until he was at Lierin’s door. The nightmare left his mind half drowned in doubt. Would he find the beloved face he sought, or would it be only a cruel trick of his eye that awaited him?

Carefully he turned the knob and, without a sound, pushed the portal open. The room was dark, lighted only by the dying flames in the fireplace. He moved with soundless tread to the bed and placed the candle on the nightstand where it would spread its glow over the one he had come to see. He stared down at the face thus portrayed, and relief flooded through him.

A century or so ago he had also wandered in the dead of night and paused beside a bed in a hotel suite in New Orleans, where he had gazed down upon these same fine features. He had been amazed that her beauty could both burn his mind and, in the very same instant, freeze it with stunned awe. This was surely his Lierin, once lost, but now found by some unfathomable fall of chance.

Lierin sighed softly in her sleep, and her arm moved slowly aside, taking the sheet and quilt with it and leaving only her gown to cover her. The thin garment pulled into a taut shroud over her body, drawing Ashton’s eyes downward to the full swell of her rising and falling bosom and the narrow curve of her waist. A flaming lust took hold of his body, starting the blood pounding in his veins and nearly overwhelming him with his hunger as his gaze wandered on across the flatness of her belly to where the garment had crept up to reveal her naked thighs and an arching hip.

Suddenly Ashton caught himself, realizing he had stepped forward with a hand outstretched and ready to caress a long, sleek limb. As he struggled with his craving lusts, a horror congealed within him that if he pressed her, such an act might thrust her deeper into her plight and forever destroy the path to reconciliation.

With some disgust for his own lack of self-control, Ashton kneaded his sweating palms together and moved several paces away from the bed. A trickle of sweat traced a cool path down his temple as he fought the raging desires that tore at him, leaving him trembling and tense. It was a laborious battle, and a short eternity passed before he managed to claim a small measure of victory. A long sigh slipped from him, and he shook his head, thinking of how close he had come to using force. He had always been repulsed by men who bragged of their forceful dominance or sniggered because of their lack of self-restraint. He had thought himself above that, but now he was catching a glimpse of a totally different profile.

His head lifted slowly as he forced his mind to take control, and he found himself staring at an image reflected in the cheval glass which stood a short arm’s length from him. In the ebon mirror he saw his beloved floating behind the fragile barrier, haloed by the candlelight and surrounded by a sea of darkness while she nestled deeply in slumber, unaware of the battle that raged a few short paces from her. A pang of anguish stabbed him. He felt like smashing the mirror to destroy the barriers, but it was a foolish desire, for the obstacles were not really there, and he’d only lose the vision of her.

Gradually a calm deliberation overtook him. He had a strong will, and he would not let himself be governed by his lusts, no matter how they tormented him. In quiet resolve he returned to the bed and, bending low, pressed a light kiss upon her softly parted lips. It may have been his imagination, but it seemed that she responded for a moment, yet when he drew back a vague frown troubled her brow and her lips moved briefly in an unintelligible murmur.

A certain sadness tore at his spirit as he left the room. It was not a comforting thought to know that he would have to endure this aching, gnawing hunger. All too aware of the pain in the lower pit of his belly, he heaved a sigh. Time would have to be his ally. Time and patience. Or at least as much patience as he could muster.

A new dawn came stealing through the half-closed drapes of Lierin’s room, touching her with its light and gently rousing her from the depths of morpheus. At first she felt exhilarated and greatly refreshed; then as she tried to stretch her arms above her head, everything came flooding back and she was reminded of her aching muscles and her lack of memory. Her enthusiasm for the new day dwindled, but only briefly. A light, airy spirit rose from somewhere deep within her, giving her a new vigor and a solid fortitude that her limited recall could not fathom. She knew not from where it came, but it had a familiar essence. She felt herself responding to its urging, growing stronger and more determined. Once again she stretched, this time deliberately seeking out each ache or pain and testing them as she moved this way and that. Whatever the source was of this newfound energy, it also gave her the sure knowledge that she had never avoided problems, and it was an inescapable fact that none of hers would depart until they were met and dealt with summarily. Sifting through the multitude that came to mind, she selected the first and most obvious. She could hardly spend the rest of her life in bed, and the sooner she dispensed with her immobility, the sooner she would regain some semblance of control of her life. A long soak in a hot tub would help loosen her stiff muscles, but making such a request might seem a trifle presumptuous in a strange household. Still, Ashton Wingate had insisted that she was his wife. Perhaps they would not deem it too much amiss if she asked for such a service.

Pushing herself out of the bed, she stood to her feet and, seeing no sign of her robe, cautiously made her way to the hearth. The fire had burned low, and a definite chill had settled in the room. A small store of split logs had been laid up in the brass woodbox, and she tossed several on the glowing coals, then reached back to take up the poker. As her fingers closed over the handle of the piece, an image of an upraised poker flashed through her mind. The vision was brief, but it left her feeling strangely weak. Trembling, she sank into a nearby chair and rubbed her temple with fingers that were now as cold as ice. She could find no reason for her reaction and tried to force it from her mind, but in its stead came a cold, clammy, distasteful void.

Lierin straightened, steeling herself against the disturbing sensation. The flames were cheerfully cavorting along the logs, and she knelt before the hearth, letting the radiating warmth drive away the frigid fingers of apprehension. A light knock came upon the door, and without pause, as if no answer were expected, the portal was pushed open. Willabelle entered and took a step or two toward the bed before noticing it was empty. She halted in consternation and searched about with her eyes until Lierin came to her feet with a polite clearing of her throat; then the housekeeper turned her massive bulk about.

“Lawsy, Miz Lierin. Ah di’n know yo was up an’ about,” the woman apologized in an elated tone.

“Yes, I’m feeling much better now.”

Willabelle gave a little cackle of glee. “De massa be happy to hear dat. He been nearly ’side hisse’f, wantin’ yo to be all right.” She began smoothing the sheets on the bed. “Would yo be wantin’ somepin to eat now, missus?”

Lierin replied with a tentative smile: “Actually, I was wondering if it might be possible for me to have a bath…I mean, a real one that I can soak in…”

Willabelle grinned broadly. “Yas’m, dat sho’ is pos’ble.” She retrieved the velvet robe that had fallen from the end of the bed and held it while the girl slipped into it. “Yo jes’ rest yose’f right here, missus, whilst Ah goes downstairs an’ fetches some things.”

When the woman returned, it seemed a whole procession of servants accompanied her. Some carried boxes tied with fancy bows, other toted buckets of hot water, and the last servant entered bearing a brass tub in his arms. A bath was prepared, and as the servants left, Willabelle laid out fresh linens and placed vials of perfumed oils and a porcelain dish of scented soaps on a small table within easy reach of the tub.

Lierin thoughtfully sampled the fragrances of the vials until she found one of a pleasing flowery essence, then dribbled it into the bath. A scent of jasmine filled the room as she flicked her fingers through the steaming liquid, and she closed her eyes in pleasure as she savored the smell. Rolling up her hair into a massive knot upon her head, she eyed the boxes over her shoulder with a good measure of curiosity. “What are those?”

“Dem’s from de dressmaker, missus. De massa ordered yo some mo’ clothes a few days ago, and dey arrive las’ night. Ah’ show dem to yo whilst yo soak in de tub.”

Willabelle immediately turned to the matter of helping her disrobe and showed a gentle concern for her condition. Even though the housekeeper had seen the bruises before, their appearance had grown even more unsightly with the yellowing tones mingling with the purple and blue. Others which had gone unnoticed had blackened and were clearly visible against the creamy skin. The slash across her back had taken on several small scabs and widened as the contusions became more evident.

“Lawsy, chil’, yo look like yo was run over by both de team an’ de coach.”

Lierin sank into the soothing liquid and released a sigh as the heat banished the last of the chill. “I was sure that I had been.”