Epilogue
Sancerre’s ugly face hung over Alan, his hands poised to wrap around his throat.
“Alan,” a sweet voice murmured.
It sounded like Grace. Fear gripped his heart. Had Sancerre gotten to her?
The voice came louder. “Alan, my love, wake up.”
He bolted upright, and the dream faded as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Grace stood by his bedside, a glass of water in hand. She extended it to him and he took it gratefully.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said after swallowing the contents of the glass. “Was I really that loud?”
She ran a hand through his hair. “Not really, but it’s been months since you had a nightmare, so I was surprised to hear you moaning from my room.”
He sighed, disappointed he’d not completely rid himself of the dreams altogether, but Grace was right. It had been over four months since his last vivid nightmare, which meant he was getting better. She crossed to the other side of the bed and crawled in.
They rarely shared a bed at night. It was one rule he’d insisted on when they first married.
He knew how much he thrashed, and the last thing he wanted was to injure Grace.
But after a nightmare had already presented itself, having her curl up beside him was the only way he could get any more sleep.
She relaxed him in a way nothing else could.
In a way, she made him feel safe. Not that he would admit to the gentlemen down at White’s, but after a year and a half of marriage, he was not too proud to admit it to himself.
With her head on his shoulder, he smoothed away the hairs that had escaped her long plait. After several minutes, her breathing evened out and he thought she might have fallen asleep.
Then she spoke. “I wasn’t actually asleep when your dream began.”
“Oh. Why not?”
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “I was too excited. Do you think Prudence will like her gift?”
He smiled in the darkness, loving the way his wife cared for her family. They hadn’t been married more than a month when she’d come to him with a very interesting request, one to which he was happy to comply.
“I think she will love it,” he said. “What time is she supposed to arrive?”
“By noon, I think. Bradley said he would drop her off himself before he continued on to Nicholas’s house.”
He gave a soft hum to acknowledge her statement, but the movement of her fingers on the skin of his neck distracted him, their slow languid motion pushing him closer to wakefulness than sleep.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He cleared his throat, hoping it would also clear his brain as well. “For what?”
“For Artemis.”
His chest filled with satisfaction. He’d fulfill any request of Grace’s. “I think you should thank Apollo. He did help.”
She giggled. “I think Artemis’s mother deserves more of the thanks, but I shall be sure to bring him a carrot tomorrow when we show Prudence her filly.”
“I see, I get thanks, but Apollo gets thanks and a carrot.”
She pushed up on her elbow; the moonlight illuminating the impish smile on her face. “Would you also like a carrot as a treat?”
He smirked. “Not exactly.”
She leaned in, her fingers coming up to trace his lips. A shiver coursed through him. “I think I have a better idea.”
When her lips met his, he had to agree. Her idea was much better.
Of course, they always were. Her love had been a beacon in the darkness, a calm in the raging sea, and just when he thought all hope was lost, Grace had stepped in and saved him.