Ethan’s hands framed her face, a thumb caressed her mouth. “Are you sure…” he whispered. Angst laced his voice.
“I’m sorry, but yes, I’m sure, Ethan,” she murmured and stared deeply into his beautiful eyes. What have I done? He’s suffering, hurting because of my mistake. I should have never allowed things to get this far. “Have a safe trip, my dear.”
Chapter 11
11.45 p.m.
Sophia woke herself with her own screams.
Every time she had that nightmare, she woke up screaming. Since waking in that hospital, she had been having them at least once a week.
Not being able to remember something she needed to remember left her feeling anxious and anguished for the rest of the night. Heavy prescription drugs had alleviated it before. Although those drugs could help, Sophia had sworn never to touch them again.
She sat up on the bed with her head in her hands, a painful throbbing in her temples. Will I ever remember? Oh, God. I want this to end.
She heard a knock on the door.
Damn. My screams must have woken someone.
She put on a wrap and opened the door a crack. Alistair, Alice, and Leonard were outside her door.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
“Are you okay, Sophia?” Alice asked in a worried voice. “Alistair heard you screaming and called me.”
Alistair studied Sophia’s face. The stitches marred her forehead just above her eyebrow and a big black-and-blue bruise stained from above the cut to her cheek. Her face was ashen and her lips had no color. Her dark brown eyes were wide and haunted.
“I’m sorry I disturbed you. I’m fine, thank you. It was just a nightmare.” She tried to smile but ended up grimacing.
“A drink will do you good,” Alistair said, his voice firm. “I’ll accompany you.” A command.
Just the sound of his deep voice made her giddy. And she wouldn’t fall asleep for hours. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you in a moment.” He didn’t ask, you idiot. The right answer would have been “Yes, sire.”
When she opened the door again, only a small lamp lit the corridor. He waited for her outside, reclining against the doorjamb, his face in shadows. Even at this time of the night, he looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a magazine. A dark-green V-neck cashmere sweater clad his perfect chest and he wore his black jeans low on his hips.
She had quickly changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a gray cashmere cardigan, jeans and black boots.
“Shall we?”
“Again, I’m sorry I disturbed you,” she said in a voice above a whisper.
“I was awake. My room is the one next to yours. That’s why I heard you.”
He fell in step beside her, and they descended the stairs in silence, entering the library.
“What will you have?”
“Whisky. Neat.”
He looked at her sideways, smiling, but said nothing. He served them both and put some ice cubes in his glass. “Here you are. Scotch Whisky. Like we drink in Scotland. Single.” He sat beside her on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of him and crossing his feet at his ankles.
The silence was comfortable. She was aware of Alistair glancing at her while she drank, but she said nothing, waiting for him to start a conversation. The whisky burned her throat filling her with warmth.
“Want to talk about your nightmare?”
She shook her head, tightening her lips for a moment to stop the words that were threatening to escape.
“Everyone knew it wasn’t an accident. He was pissed off,” he said in a low, dark voice.
She looked at him, puzzled, not making the connection right away.
“You weren’t dreaming about what happened today.” He suddenly understood.
She shook her head, slowly.
He put his warm and long hand on her cold one. “It’s good to talk. Helps keep the ghosts at bay.” I wish I had someone to talk to about mine.
She looked into his eyes, taking in their beauty and shook her head again. “I think this ghost will haunt me forever.” She sighed, rubbing her arm where she had been shot. “I don’t really know what goes on while I dream. I have partial amnesia. I don’t remember what happened and the nightmares…” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “I dream but when I wake up I can’t remember anything. Almost two years and I still can’t remember. I only know what other people and documents tell me. What happened… It was… Is too painful for my mind to cope with.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s how the doctors explained it.”
“I don’t understand…” He frowned. “What don’t you remember exactly?”
“I don’t remember part of my life after the night I was shot. I remember leaving a party with Gabriel. Then… Emptiness. A void. Two months are gone from my mind. And quite a few parts of the following two.” She looked at him, their gazes locked and she whispered, “And I don’t know if I really want to remember.”
“I can understand that feeling.” He squeezed her hand. “Your husband was killed on the same day you were shot?”
“No.” She wetted her lips and drank a bit more of the whisky. “No, he wasn’t. But… That’s more the official version than anything else.”
“Come again?”
“Everything is a great blur of pain.” She looked at the hazel liquid in the glass and swirled it. “I know he wasn’t killed on the same night because the police told me this and because I received-” She choked with the words, incapable of continuing. She shook her head hard to dislodge the painful image out of her head. “The doctors said that one day something might trigger my memory.” She bit her lip and silence ensued for some minutes. They were absorbed in their own thoughts.
“Who was the man, that day, at the Royal Courts?”
She looked at him warily.
His fingers caressed the back of her hand. “You can trust me. You know that.”
“My father-in-law,” she said softly and lowered her head.
He understood. She wasn’t going to say anymore.
“I could give you and Gabriela a lift back to London. I came by myself and have plenty of room in my car. I would enjoy having your company on the way back.”
Sophia almost thanked him for the change of topic. “I’d love to. What do you drive?”
“I came in the Range Rover.”
“My husband used to have one. He loved cars.” She smiled then. “What man doesn’t?” She finished her drink.
“Indeed.” He noticed that her empty glass. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, thank you. With ice, please. I don’t usually drink whisky, but I need one more.”
He rose, went to the cabinet, and refilled their glasses. He ambled in her direction, perusing her. “And you? You like cars?”
“Do I like cars?” she smiled. “If I could, I would sleep inside a car. I’ve always liked cars. I learned to drive with my brother. He’s the best. I turned into a maniac after my marriage. Believe it or not, I’m one of the best drivers you’ll ever see.”
“A woman? One of the best drivers I’ll ever see?” He smiled back. “I doubt it.”
“Try me.”
“One day you can take me for a ride. I’d like to judge for myself.”
“Done. Just pick the date.” She grinned widely. “I can’t resist a challenge. I hope you’re not afraid of speed or get carsick.”
“I’ll make sure my life insurance is up to date.”
She laughed.
He felt content. The haunted look from her face had vanished.
Sunday, February 14th, 2010.
Late afternoon.