And screamed again.
And continued to scream.
It wasn’t a man, but some form of beast. The gleaming eyes and the face were that of a wolf. The body was that of a man, tall and muscled, resembling Brynne’s body.
As she continued to scream, the face and eyes turned into Brynne’s handsome face and dark eyes. They were no longer gleaming, but suddenly dull and lifeless. As she stared at him, water began to surround him, until it filled the room and he began to float in its icy current. The water began to flood her bed.
She tried to move off the bed and run to the door, but she couldn’t move. It was as though this vision had trapped her and was holding her down. Her breath caught as the water began to fill her lungs.
She couldn’t scream anymore. She couldn’t breathe.
Water continued to fill her lungs.
Her candle dropped to the floor and she worried that it was still burning.
The vision of Brynne was still in front of her. Floating. His eyes were dead. He wasn’t moving.
She tried to scream again, but more water filled her lungs.
“Lettie! Lettie, wake up!” Someone was shaking her. Brynne? Big, warm hands. She couldn’t breathe.
Brynne! Help me breathe!
“Frances, her candle’s on the floor. I think it burned itself out when it fell. Make certain.”
She saw a blur of pink that had to be Frances in her dressing gown hurrying to the side of her bed.
Brynne’s arms were around her now and her head was pressed against his chest. She felt the warmth of his skin against her cheek and the tickle of his chest hairs against her nose. She tried to gulp air. “Lettie, no! Sweetheart, wake up. You’re not drowning.”
She felt the pounding of his heart against her cheek. “Not me. You, Brynne. Danger.”
She took another deep breath and held it as more water washed over her. She knew she wasn’t drowning. He was the one at risk. The vision was still there and now there were two lifeless bodies. Brynne’s and a younger version of himself. When he was a little boy?
And the boy was a wolf, too.
What was she seeing?
Would Brynne die?
Chapter Seven
Brynne felt Lettie’sheart beating furiously against his chest as he held her. “Lettie, come back to me.” She felt so slight and slender in his arms, struggling to breathe and mumbling about water and someone drowning. Him as a boy.
It made no sense.
He stroked her hair, her long, red curls damp from exertion, and caressed her cheek to gently wipe away her tears. He continued to hold her against his heart until the moment she came out of her dream… or whatever one would call what Lettie was experiencing. He brushed the perspiration off her brow, and soothed her until she stopped thrashing and lay spent against him.
Damn.
Her lavender scent mingled with the hot scent of fear.
“Lettie, how often do you have these visions?” he asked the moment she seemed to awaken and regain her senses. The possibility that this had happened to her before left him feeling ill. He’d misjudged her badly, thinking of her as a delicate earl’s daughter who had never experienced hardship and was not prepared for the difficulties most commoners encountered during their lives.
He was wrong.
If Lettie had the gift of sight, and he was beginning to believe that she did, then she was living each and every one of her frightening visions. Yet, she stayed true to who she was, a tenderhearted, gentle girl. He’d never appreciated her innerstrength or her ability to keep up her spirits and remain hopeful and innocent even while she experienced these nightly terrors.
She had never once complained.
