LITMIR.BIZ

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she had been thrashing about for some time. Perspiration glistened on her forehead and she was flinging her head from side to side, her fingers clawing at the covers and hitting out at some imaginary object.

      ‘Angelina,’ Alex murmured in alarm, about to reach out and gather the distressed girl in his arms. But he stopped when suddenly her eyes snapped open and she stared in abject terror at the dark figure bending over her, a figure looming larger that life.

      With a strangled cry, like lightning she scrambled out from beneath the covers and huddled at the head of the bed like a terrified animal, clutching her nightdress about her knees, visibly trembling. Her eyes, black and enormous, burned with the fever of unspeakable agony.

      ‘Get away,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t touch me.’

      Alex could see she was in extreme distress, confused and disorientated. ‘Angelina—it’s me—Alex,’ he murmured gently, longing to reach out and take her in his arms and soothe her as he would a frightened child who was having a bad dream. But he could see her nerves were stretched tight, and that any sudden strain might cause them to break and fling her into a state of hysteria. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

      Looking at him for a long moment, every nerve vibrating, his voice slowly penetrated the inner sanctum of her mind. ‘Alex?’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Alex.’ Quite suddenly her features crumpled. She closed her eyes and shuddered violently, clasping her arms tight around her chest and beginning to rock back and forth as if in some terrible grief.

      ‘Angelina—don’t. Please don’t.’ The painful, unfamiliar constriction in Alex’s chest made his hand tremble slightly as he reached out for her, but she jerked away, screwing her eyes tight shut, as if to blot out some intolerable sight, hitting out at him wildly, as though she imagined herself to be in the grip of an enemy.

      ‘Don’t. Please don’t touch me.’ Her voice was a hollow whisper. She began to cry silently, huge tears spilling over her lashes and coursing down her cheeks, her eyes begging him not to come near. ‘Don’t. Don’t,’ she repeated. ‘Please…’ She backed away against the head of the bed, unable to go any further.

      It was an agony for Alex to watch her anguish, raised from the vast reservoir of despair threatening to drown her. He was unable to know how to deal with her. He couldn’t leave her like this, because if he did he felt he would be failing her. Nor could he go for help without raising eyebrows about what he was doing in her room at this hour of the night.

      Lighting the taper beside her bed, he looked at her pathetic huddled figure illuminated by its glow, weeping silently, wretchedly, shrouded in a thick curtain of long silken hair. The forlorn droop of her head went straight to his heart. Caught totally unprepared by her fierce display of emotion, he felt reason and control swept away. Sitting on the edge of the bed, with aching tenderness he reached out and took firm hold of her, pulling her close and fastening his arms around her like a vice.

      At first she resisted and struggled, lashing out at his restraining grip, but then she grew still and grimly endured his touch. Through the material of her nightdress Alex could feel the alert tension of all her body. Her tears had ceased and her breathing was rapid. The warmth of the room wrapped itself around them so that it seemed that they were alone in a world without substance or reality.

      ‘It’s all right, Angelina. I’m not going to hurt you,’ Alex breathed, his lips against her hair on the top of her head. ‘I don’t know what has frightened you and I am not going to leave you until you are all right. Try to relax.’

      As if awakening from a deep trance, Angelina began to do just that. The storm of tears had ceased, and with its passing some of her tension had been washed away. Having dealt with tragedy and adversity for three years, she was too weak to fight Alex when he was being kind and understanding—and besides, he felt so warm and strong, his arms comforting and his voice soothing. His mere presence gave her a sense of security and safety. Alex was both surprised and touched when she nestled closer and turned her face into his chest. It was as if she wanted to hide herself in his embrace.

      ‘Tell me, Angelina,’ he said at length, ‘have you experienced anything like this before?’

      She nodded.

      ‘And this nightmare you keep having, is it always the same one?’

      ‘Yes,’ she mumbled.

      Releasing his hold, Alex turned her face up to his, stroking her hair from her damp face. ‘What happened to you in Ohio, Angelina?’ he asked, cradling her face in his hands and tracing her cheekbones with his thumbs. ‘What are you afraid of?’

      Fresh tears collected in her eyes and spilled hot moisture over his fingers. He brushed them away gently, feeling her give a convulsive shudder. ‘Don’t. Please don’t,’ she whispered, feebly trying to push him away to evade his touch, but Alex was having none of that now he had succeeded in subduing her and drew her firmly against him, placing her head on his chest once more and stroking her hair.

      ‘Tell me about Ohio, Angelina,’ he asked again. ‘What happened to you there on the night the Indians came?’

      White faced, she shuddered. ‘No. I will not tell you,’ she answered in a voice that was a raw whisper, her whole body rigid with anger in his arms—whether anger against himself for asking or her memories Alex didn’t know, but to his relief she made no attempt to remove herself. ‘Don’t ever ask me, because I won’t tell you. I try never to think about it.’

      ‘But you do, don’t you? And I can see that it pains you.’

      ‘Yes—yes, it pains me,’ she said in a torrent of anguished words, gulping on her sobs and pressing her face to his chest in an attempt to shut out the memory. Drawing a deep, quivering breath she tried to still her trembling limbs, trying to gain control of her rioting emotions. ‘Damn you for mentioning it. Damn you, Alex Montgomery. It was vile and ugly—and I don’t want to remember.’

      ‘I can see that,’ he said softly. ‘But whatever happened to you, Angelina, you cannot go on carrying it around inside you like this. Have you never spoken of it to anyone?’

      She shook her head fiercely.

      ‘Perhaps talking about it will finally exorcise it from your mind.’

      ‘It won’t. It won’t, I tell you.’ No, she thought, not after keeping it to herself for so long. It would be like sharing her soul. Pride and shame had prevented her from speaking openly—even to Will. But Alex! No. Never to Alex.

      Not wishing to cause her further distress, Alex decided not to press her on the matter just then. ‘What was it that brought this on?’ he asked, gentling his voice. ‘Was it because I upset you earlier—or the storm?’

      ‘No,’ she mumbled through her sobs. ‘Neither. It was the gypsies.’

      Alex frowned. ‘The gypsies?’

      She nodded against him. ‘I saw them when I was riding. I came upon their encampment on the other side of the woods.’

      Alex stiffened and held her away from him, forcing her to look at him. ‘Angelina, did they hurt you?’

      She shook her head. ‘I thought they were going to attack me. Seeing them—they—they reminded me—’

      ‘Of the Shawnee,’ Alex finished for her, understanding how the swarthy-skinned gypsies, with their dark eyes and black hair, would resemble the red-skinned Indians of America. Silently he cursed the gypsies and his bailiff for failing to get rid of them as he had ordered him to do. First thing in the morning he would ride out to their encampment and order them to move on himself.

      He pulled Angelina back into his embrace and, his strong arms tightened about her. With her face pressed into the curve of his shoulder she seemed so small, so utterly female, warm, fragile and vulnerable. His heart ached with the fear of what the Shawnee might have done to her. Not even in his mind could he bring himself to voice his suspicions, but they were there, thrusting through his brain like knives. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t even

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