Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(54)

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Retiring early for the night, Sara lay very still in her bed and waited for her ice-cold toes to warm. Perry had been in her thoughts all day. Fervently she prayed that she hadn’t driven him away for good. She had loved him for so many years. He had always been a part of her life. When he was in one of his boyish moods, teasing her and pressing careless kisses on her lips, she sometimes feared she would expire of happiness. The afternoon picnics with him, long walks through the countryside, snuggling against his shoulder as he read aloud to her…the memories had brought her hours of pleasure as she recounted each golden moment. If by some miracle she became his wife, she would be able to wake up every morning and find him next to her, his blond hair softly tumbled, his sleepy blue eyes smiling at her.

Tense with anxious hope, Sara clenched her arms around her pillow. “Perry,” she said aloud, her voice muffled. “Perry, I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

She fell asleep with Perry’s name on her lips. But when she dreamed, it was of Derek Craven, his dark presence filtering through her sleep like a ghost.

She played a game of hide-and-seek with him, running through the empty club, giggling wildly as she sensed him drawing near. He followed her intently, closing in until she knew there was no chance of escape…except one. After finding a secret door, she disappeared into a tunnel of darkness, concealing herself. But suddenly she heard the sound of his breathing. He was with her in the shadows. He caught her easily and pinned her against the wall, laughing at her startled gasp. “You’ll never get away from me,” he whispered, his hands sliding roughly over her body. “You’re mine forever…only mine…”

Sara was awakened suddenly by a tapping on her door. Her father’s voice was groggy and tempered with annoyance. “Sara? Sara, we have company. Dress yourself, daughter, and come to the front room.”

She stirred heavily, wishing only to sink back into the dream. “Yes, Papa,” she mumbled, and dragged herself out of the cozy warmth of her bed. She found a heavy robe and tied it over her high-necked night rail. “Papa, who on earth is…” Her voice faded as she saw the visitor. Automatically her hand flew to her wild hair, smoothing back the tangled skeins. “Perry!”

Looking haggard and ill-at-ease, Perry stood by the front door, hat in hand. He kept his eyes on Sara as he spoke to her father quietly. “Sir, I know this has the appearance of impropriety, but if I could have a minute alone with your daughter—”

“A minute, no more,” Isaac said reluctantly. He gave Sara a meaningful glance just before he left the room. She nodded in answer to the silent warning to keep the interlude short.

Her heartbeat was heavy and fast. Clearing her throat, she wandered to a nearby chair and sat on the edge. “Why are you here at such a late hour, Perry? You know how unseemly it is.”

“I’ve been half-mad for the past two days.” His voice was strained. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I thought about everything you said. You hardly seemed like the same person yesterday morning—the way you looked and spoke—you should have told me how you truly felt long ago, Sara. It was a disservice to me every time you covered your thoughts with a smile.”

“I suppose it was,” she admitted, noticing that his eyes were smudged with the shadows of lost sleep.

“You were right about a few things,” Perry said, surprising her by dropping on his knees before her. Carefully he took her hands. “Mother will not approve of our union, not at first. But she’ll get used to it after a while. It’s possible you and she may even become friends someday.” Sara began to reply, but he gestured for her to wait. “You were right about something else, darling. It is wasteful not to take love when it’s within my grasp. I do want to be with you.” He held her hands tightly, looking into her flushed face. “I love you, Sara. And if you’ll have me, I would like for us to be married in the spring.”

“Yes, yes!” Sara left the chair and flung her arms around his neck, nearly toppling them both over in her excitement.

Laughing and kissing her, Perry tried to hush her exclamations. “Quiet, darling, or we’ll wake your parents.”

“They probably have their ears pressed to the door,” she said, tightening her arms in a stranglehold. “Oh, Perry, you’ve made me so happy.”

“You’ve made me even happier.” They grinned at each other, and Perry stroked the wild tendrils of her hair.

“Come back tomorrow morning and talk to my father,” Sara urged. “It’s only a formality, but it will please him.”

“Yes, and then you’ll come with me to break the news to my mother.”

“Ugh,” Sara couldn’t resist saying.

He gave her a reproving glance. “If you approach her in a spirit of love and goodwill, she’ll reciprocate in kind.”

“All right,” Sara said with a grin. “I’m so happy I’d be willing to kiss the devil hims—”

Perry didn’t seem to notice the odd catch of her voice. Nor could he know the cause of it.

They talked for another minute or two. After they exchanged a few hasty kisses, Perry left the cottage. Sara’s mind buzzed with strange, fearful notions all the while, but she concealed her turmoil until he was gone. Then she let herself think about the flashing memory…Derek Craven’s snarling grin, his dark head bending over hers. She exhaled unsteadily, feeling as if she were being haunted. It must not happen again. She must drive every thought of Craven out of her mind forever. He had said he would forget her. Bitterly she wondered how he intended to accomplish that, if it would be easy for him…if he would turn to another woman.