Devil's Wager

Prologue: England, June 1818 How easily a dream could turn into a nightmare, even a dream that already held no claim to pleasure. Diana. She heard him saying her name, and chided herself for a fool. Three years he'd been gone, and still he haunted her. But she was done with being foolish, just as she was at last done with him. Was she sleeping? With an effort, Diana moved, feeling the deep ache in the muscles of her shoulders and lower back. She must have fallen asleep in the chair, she realized dimly, groaning with stuporous dismay. She'd been so determined to remain awake, to spend each precious moment during her last night at Kerlain with full awareness, and to see the sun dawning on the day that would bring an end of all that she'd known and loved, of her very freedom. "Diana." That voice. That tone. She felt a bleary aggravation that he should sound so irate. He didn't have the right to be angry over anything after all he'd done. With a great effort, she opened her eyes and blinked into the darkness of the room. She felt drugged, exhausted, so heavy and weary that she couldn't possibly make her limbs move. Parting her lips, she drew in a long, easing breath, exhaled it slowly, and let her eyelids drift shut once more. "Sleeping beauty, is it?" He sounded amused now. She heard footsteps nearing the chair and struggled to open her eyes again. Cold fingertips brushed lightly against her cheek. "Then I suppose I must be your Prince Charming." His voice was nearer, as if he were bending closer. "Shall I wake you with a kiss?" he asked more softly. "No," she murmured, turning her face away from his touch. It couldn't be him. Not now, when it was too late. For three years she had waited for his return, prayed for it. Hours she'd waited and looked for him. Days. Months. Gazing out the highest window at Kerlain just to see his approach, convincing herself that he'd come riding into view any moment if she only kept looking. "No?" he repeated, still amused. She groaned again, lifting a numb, leadened hand to rub at her eyes. Drawing in another breath, she forcibly pushed the last dregs of slumber aside and made herself come fully awake. Several moments of silence passed as she collected her wandering thoughts and made her vision focus. She wasn't dreaming. She'd heard Lad's voice. The room was dark, but not so dark that she couldn't see the tall figure standing beside her. Diana straightened in the chair, lifting her head to gaze up at him and was instantly filled with alarm. The voice had somehow tricked her into thinking that the earl had returned, but everything else about the man was completely unfamiliar. His stance, his manner of dress--everything. This wasn't Lad. Did she even know who he was? she wondered, straining to make out his features in the darkness. But no, she realized with a shiver of fear. He was a stranger. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice unsteady. Ske lifted her hand again to push the hair back from her face. "How do you dare to come here, to my chamber?" "I dare very easily," he replied calmly. "Stay where you are." He moved away from the chair. Diana leapt out of it, every nerve fully alive and tingling now. One good scream would have servants running from every quarter, but she'd rather he leave without creating a scene that would overset one and all, especially tonight of all nights. She pulled her robe more tightly about herself and demanded, "How did you manage to get into the castle?" Neither Swithin nor any of the footman would have allowed a stranger to cross the threshold at this time of night. "What have you come here for?" He was turned away from her, striking a flint on a tinderbox to light a candle. The candle caught flame, and the light gSpencer, Mary is the author of 'Devil's Wager' with ISBN 9780440224938 and ISBN 0440224934.