Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he snarled, racing the final few feet to the bed.
“She was here.”
He sat on the bed while I spoke, reaching to me.
“She was here,” I repeated.
Tentatively, he touched my temple.
I flinched.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I fell off the bed.”
“Stay here.” He got up, went to the bathroom.
I started rocking, still shivering, hugging my legs, staring at the hall.
He came back with a wet cloth, talking into his phone. “No. Get to the Rose Room. Now.”
He tossed his phone on the covers, then sat in front of me again and carefully dabbed at my temple.
“I need to see how bad this is,” he murmured.
I grabbed his wrist. He quit dabbing and looked into my eyes.
“Dorothy was in here. I saw her hair. I’m not kidding. I’m not making this up. And I’m not crazy.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he soothed. “All right, darling. Just try to calm down and let me see to this cut.”
“She touched me while I was sleeping.”
Ian had no time to react to that.
I screamed and pushed away from him, starting to dash across the bed, when movement came at the door.
I stopped when I saw it was Daniel, Portia running in after him.
They both stopped dead, but only Portia cried, “Oh my God! You’re hurt!”
“Go wake Stevenson. Sam. Jack. I want this house searched, top to fucking bottom,” Ian ordered.
“What? Why?” Daniel asked.
“Daphne was attacked.”
I was freaking, but I still saw Daniel’s sheer shock, then his face suffused with anger and he sprinted out of the room.
Portia darted forward. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know,” Ian answered. “She might need stitches. I need to join the search. Clean it and stay here with her. I’ll send someone in with first aid, and if she needs a doctor, find me.”
He handed the washcloth to Portia, leaned in and kissed me quickly on the lips, then he ran out.
“Oh my God, Daphne, this is crazy,” Portia said, sitting on the bed and reaching the cloth to me.
“I’ll do it.” I took it from her.
“I can help,” she said petulantly.
“I know, honey. I’m just freaking. Let me think,” I mumbled, pressing the cool, wet cloth to my head.
“You were attacked?”
“I…I don’t know. Someone was in here. I can’t think straight. I need a second.”
“I’ll get you some water. Do you want some water?”
I focused on my sister.
Another short nightie, expensive, this one green satin. Pretty lace.
“Cuddle in bed with me?” I requested. “I’m shivering and you have to be cold too.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Moving carefully, like I was made of china, she shifted with me, and awkwardly, because I was still holding the cloth to my head, we both got under the covers, backs to the headboard, bedclothes pulled up high.
She wrapped an arm around me and leaned her weight into me, like she wanted to share her heat.
“There. Let’s get you warm. You’re freezing,” she said.
She rubbed my arm, fast, up and down.
I’d had a dream. I was marrying David.
No, Thomas.
And then something touched my cheek.
But did it?
I looked to the windows.
All the curtains were closed.
All of them.
Closed.
Someone was definitely in here.
A tremble bolted through me.
“I don’t like this,” Portia said in a small voice. “You’re never like this. You’re scaring me.”
I dropped the cloth and put my arm around her too.
“We’re okay. We’re safe.”
“It’s supposed to be me saying that.” She gazed at my temple. “It doesn’t look bad. You need some plasters. I’d get some, but I have no clue where they are.”
“It can wait.”
“What on earth?”
Both Portia and I started and looked to the door.
Jane in her cashmere dressing gown again, this time with Richard, who was wearing full pajamas.
He took one look at me, his face turned to stone, then he spun on his foot and marched out.
He barely cleared the door before he started jogging down the hall, bellowing, “Stevenson!”
Jane came to the bed.
“My word,” she whispered.
“We need a first aid kit,” Portia said.
“I’ll get one. Stay with her?”
“Of course,” Portia replied.
“Be right back, dear,” Jane said to me.
I nodded.
She floated out the door, but quickly.
“It’s swelling,” Portia noted, staring at my cut. “I should have told her to get ice too. I know where that is, but I don’t want to leave you.”
“No,” I said urgently, holding tight to her. “Don’t leave me.”
She put her other arm around me and held me, cooing, “I’m right here, Daph.”
Jane came back, incredibly quickly, but I knew why. She was with a lady, a redhead, but her hair was turning white, a little older than Bonnie.
She was holding a rather large case that looked like a fishing tackle box, but it was white and had a red cross on it.
She was also wearing a nightgown with a dressing gown over it.
“Good God,” she said when she saw me.
“Have you met Christine?” Jane asked and didn’t wait for my answer. “This is Christine. Christine, Daphne. Christine takes care of us. And now she’s going to help me take care of you. Portia, can you let us in there?”