Read Upon a Midnight Dream Online
Authors: Rachel Van Dyken
Conscience doth make cowards of us all.—Hamlet
Rosalind felt Stefan’s arms stiffen around her at the man’s horrendous words. How could selling your own flesh and blood be worth anything but heartache? After the door clicked shut and they were sure both men had cleared the room, she slowly pushed away from Stefan.
“Did you recognize the voices?”
Stefan looked away. “Well, obviously one was Dominique, but the other…I wasn’t able to decipher. Although I’ll admit familiarity.”
Rosalind bit her lip. “I kept thinking they would discover us, but they seemed…”
Stefan outwardly shuddered. “They seemed too intent on buying and selling, did they not?”
“We have to do something.” Rosalind felt pity for the girl who was going to be sold into the man’s dirty clutches! The same man who admitted no shame in abusing the woman he was to marry. She wasn’t sure which was worse. The father knowingly selling his daughter for money or the man purchasing.
“Rose, as much as I would like to help. There is nothing we can do now. I’ll try to find Dominique in the ball, if he’s still here. Mayhap he’ll listen to reason, if not, then…well we can at least try that much.” He lifted her chin with his hand and brushed a kiss across her lips.
“Trust me?” he asked.
“Not that I was ever given a choice…” She smiled. “But yes, Stefan. I trust you.”
“Can you manage?” His gaze traveled down her body marked with concern rather than passion.
“I’m fine, I assure you. Must have been another spell, like I said.” With that she rose to her feet and let out a curse as her dress nearly fell to her ankles.
“Stefan!” Grabbing the material that was now cascading at a rapid pace, she covered herself as best as possible as her face heated. “I’m sure you were waiting until the appropriate time to tell me that my dress has magically come loose in my sleep?”
Stefan forced his hands into his pockets and cursed. “It was choking you! What would you have me do! Let you die!”
Biting back laughter, Rosalind looked at him. “So what you're saying is, by removing my dress, you’ve also saved my life, is that it, Your Grace?”
“Naturally.” He shrugged, the devil’s gleam in his eye as he tilted his head and looked at her form. “I believe I’m your savior, yet again.”
“Are you now?” She lifted a brow.
“Absolutely. Don’t saviors of damsels in distress normally receive…some sort of reward?”
With a wicked laugh, she fingered the loose corset strings, noting the hungry look in Stefan’s eyes. Men, leave it to them to be distracted by a woman even in the face of danger. “A reward is what you seek?”
“Tis only fair, my lady.” Stefan’s eye darkened as he closed the distance between them.
“And what type of woman would I be, if I was not fair, Your Grace?”
“My thoughts exactly,” he murmured leaning down.
“Well then,” Rosalind stepped back. “I’ll be sure to reward you tomorrow. After all, we are being missed at the ball.” Stefan’s face was incredulous as his eyes flashed with unsated lust.
“Uh, that is to say….of course. I’ll await with baited breath.” He kissed her hand and turned on his heel.
“Stefan?”
“Rosalind?”
“My dress, if you please.” She turned her back and waited for his warm hands to torture her as he tightened her dress and set her to rights. He lifted her hair and made slow work of tightening her stays.
If the fires of hades erupted in that very room, Rosalind would have merely shrugged—unfulfilled desire shot through her as Stefan slowly tightened her stays. Each tug sent a shiver down her arms and legs; would wicked behavior be so horrible? Her treacherous hands demanded she push down her dress and let him have his way with her.
But they were to be married so soon and although she knew him to be a good protector, he hadn’t yet said the words she so desperately needed to hear. Love, it seemed, was never in the stars for Rosalind, but she could still hope that before she died he would utter those sacred words and just maybe look at her the way she so ached for.
“All done.” His hands left her, causing an ache to stir in her heart.
“Lovely.” She swallowed and managed to walk by the giant man without falling prostrate, begging him to kiss her as he had before. Really, she felt quite fit for Bedlam at that moment. Her thoughts were just that, madness in its purest form.
There was nothing that could be done with her hair, to put it in the original arrangement would be near impossible. So she settled for a simple chignon and hoped nobody would notice it had changed. Exhaling, she reached for the door. Awareness of Stefan’s nearness still trickled down her body. How was it that by just being near the man, she was ready to ask him to take her dress off again?
****
She has bewitched me
. Stefan followed Rosalind’s retreating form and swore He had nobody to confide in, not a single one. It seemed the only women he trusted enough to speak to just so happened to be the one that was driving him irrevocably insane. On cue, the object of his lust filled fantasy’s turned towards the Dowager of Barlowe, making him instantly uncomfortable. The last thing he needed was for his grandmother to see him in his current state. Both women lifted a curious brow in his direction, and he suddenly felt like some recalcitrant schoolboy. Should he shuffle his feet and avert his eyes and add to the effect? Or approach the women in hopes that they were talking of the weather. Right, his grandmother talking of weather. He would laugh the day weather would replace gossip.
“Ladies,” he said as he approached.
“Stefan my boy, why haven’t you danced with the lady yet? She tells me she hasn’t danced a single dance with her betrothed all evening! I expected more from my grandson.” The Dowager continued to stare daggers through Stefan.
The air stole from his lungs when Rosalind bit her lip in expectation of his question. “Would you care to dance?”
She took his gloved hand, and he led her to the middle of the dance floor. They hadn’t danced together since the time in the meadow. Maybe it was the candlelight, or possibly inanity from the curse, but holding Rosalind in his arms felt special—right.
“So you can dance eloquently once indoors…” Rosalind turned in his arms. Devil take it, she felt good.
“Yes well, I prefer the snow and woodland creatures to the gossip of the ton any day.”
“Don’t forget Samson, though I imagine he was more jealous than entertained by our little dance.”
Stefan quirked a smile at her mention of his horse. “You never told me what you were doing out dancing in the snow in the first place, nor the identity of your invisible dance partner, Rosalind.”
She blushed to the roots of her hair. “I was dancing with a man from my dreams.”
“Do you often dream of men?” He lifted a brow, suddenly interested in all of her mad fantasies, never mind that he wanted to kill any man real or made up that touched her, including the married ones.
As he pulled her closer, his hands glided down the curve of her dress. He had never discovered a more perfect fit for his hand, and in that moment wondered if there ever would be anything that belonged so rightfully in his arms.
Rosalind cleared her throat. “I don’t often dream of men. Just one.”
“One? So he’s real? Where is he? I’ll destroy him! You are mine, Rosalind. Never forget who you belong to. It is I who crave the taste of your lips. I who desire you in my bed from now until forever…and it is I who will slay your dragons and storm the castle to win your love.” His grip tightened as he pulled her body as close as he could during the dance. “And it is I who will make slow agonizing love to you until your body is sated….” The dance ended, he had yet to release her. “Nobody else….” His voice was gruff filled with lust, grief, and jealousy. Why the devil was he shaking?
“Stefan?” Rosalind lifted a gloved hand to his face.
“Yes?” He swallowed the lump in his throat.
“It
is
you.”
Her warm hand abandoned his face. Rosalind left him wanting, needing, gasping for air and feeling lost all at the same time. Whatever did she mean? The time spent thinking on her cryptic words were interrupted when Gwen nearly ran into him.
“She’s gone.”
How was it that he was cursed with so many females in his life? Did they always talk in riddles? “Yes, well, I’m sure we’ll find her.” He patted her shoulder. The poor thing was probably exhausted after being at her first ball.
“No, Your Grace. It’s Isabelle. She’s gone! I know she wouldn’t leave the ball without us. I just know it! Something dreadful has happened!”
“Stay calm, I’m sure we’ll find her.” Stefan threw her a charming smile and walked off in search of Rosalind, taking his time making greetings with other attendees the entire way.
Later that night, they figured Isabelle had gone missing around the same time Rosalind and Stefan had gone into the library.
The last place they needed to look was the house in town. For where else would Isabelle had run off to?
As Stefan pounded on the door and his grip tightened on Rosalind. The valet opened, his expression grave.
“She’s gone.” Willard announced.
“It seems to be the general consensus.” Stefan muttered pushing past him. “Now tell me, do you have any idea where she’s run off to?”
“I’ve made arrangements.” Lady Hariss made her way down the stairs. “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done now.”
“You’ve made arrangements for what exactly?” Stefan asked his stomach feeling tight with dread.
The dowager gave a mad smile and fanned herself with her naked hand. “Oh, well, you two were just taking such a dreadfully long time getting married. We needed money; you gave me no other option. The contract has been signed. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’m tired.”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Stefan tried to keep himself calm as the wicked woman gave out a menacing laugh.
“She was a bastard anyway, it’s of no matter.”
With that she marched up the stairs.
Stefan could hear the two sisters weeping next to him. Was he the only one confused?
They do not love that do not show their love
—The Two Gentleman of Verona
Rosalind watched her mother’s disappearing form and fought the urge to throw something at her. Was madness then her mother’s curse?
She turned to the Willard, who now appeared to be sweating and ready to kill anything that spoke to him. “Do you know what she speaks of? Where Isabelle ran off to? Why she claims that the youngest is a bastard?”
He cleared his throat. “Surely, you don’t think I had anything to do with this? Your mother is ill my lady, it would be good of you to remember that. If your mother felt the need to sell her youngest daughter to the highest bidder, than so be it. After all, is it so odd for a peer to betroth a daughter in order to gain an alliance as well as money?” He lifted a haughty eyebrow and turned on his heel, muttering under his breath.
“But…” Rosalind wanted to remind him that her mother had no reason for her claim, but felt Stefan’s hands on her shoulders. The pressure of his hands made her relax, best not to ask the valet any information at this point. The look in his eyes was pure rage and madness.
She watched helplessly as the man walked away, leaving her alone with Gwen and Stefan.
“Stefan,” Rosalind’s voice hitched. “What do we do? Everything has gone topsy-turvy…”
Stefan didn’t move for a while, his muscular form rigid. “We must marry immediately.”
“Oh sweet heavens, here we go again.” Rosalind rubbed her forehead with her hands. “Have you learned nothing about proposals, Stefan? Besides, we already agreed to marry.”
“He’s right, m’lady.” Mary said behind her.
“Oh, Mary, I didn’t see you! Have you seen Isabelle?”
Mary’s posture was slumped as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. “I’m afraid she’s gone.”
“But where!” Rosalind was tired of fighting, tears streamed down her face. How had everything gone so horribly wrong? Stefan was back to his insulting proposals, her sister was missing, her mother insane.
“There’s nothing we can do for her now.” Mary handed a piece of parchment to Stefan and walked away, eyes downcast. Her nurse and godmother had been missing these past few days, or at least scarce around the house. Possibly, madness was catching up with everyone. Was there any other explanation?
Rosalind watched as Stefan unfolded the paper and read the contents, his face turning redder with rage by the minute.
“Off to bed, all of you,” he barked.
Rosalind bit back a curse, wanting nothing more than to yell and scream at him. How dare he yell when she was so distraught!
She opened her mouth to speak. His large hand came slicing through the air in front of her making her stop from saying something she would most likely regret.
“To bed, both of you.” The warmth in Stefan’s eyes faded and Rosalind was once again reminded of the brute behind the man she had grown to care for.