Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers #1)(52)

“I will.” Ignoring her protests, Hunt stood and moved the table aside, out of her reach. “You need a nap. Do you require some help to return upstairs, or—”

“Mr. Hunt, I’m not going back to my room,” she said stubbornly. “I’m sick of it. In fact, I would rather sleep in the hallway than—”

“All right,” Hunt murmured with a smile, resuming his seat. “Calm yourself. Far be it from me to make you do something that you don’t want to do.” He laced his fingers together and leaned back in a deceptively casual pose, his gaze narrowing on her. “Tomorrow the guests will be back at the manor in full force,” he remarked. “I suppose you’ll resume your pursuit of Kendall soon?”

“Probably,” Annabelle admitted, covering her mouth as an insistent yawn stretched her lips.

“You don’t want him,” Hunt said softly.

“Oh, yes I do.” Annabelle paused dreamily, half propping her head on her curled arm. “And…although you have been very kind to me, Mr. Hunt…I’m afraid that I can’t let that change my plans.”

He stared at her in the same relaxed but engrossed way he had regarded the chessboard. “I’m not going to change my plans, either, sweetheart.”

If Annabelle hadn’t been so tired, she would have objected to the endearment. Instead she pondered his words sleepily. His plans…“Which are to try and stop me from catching Lord Kendall,” she said.

“They go somewhat beyond that,” he replied, amusement lurking in one corner of his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m hardly going to reveal my strategy. Clearly I need every advantage I can get. The next move is yours, Miss Peyton. Just remember that I’ll be watching you.”

Annabelle knew that the warning should have alarmed her. But she was filled with overwhelming weariness, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. The soothing moisture beneath her lids eased the scratchy feeling that heralded an overpowering need to sleep. She opened her heavy eyes with infinite reluctance, and Hunt’s image blurred before her. It was too bad that they had to be adversaries, she thought wearily. She wasn’t aware that she had spoken the words aloud until he replied in a gentle tone.

“I’ve never been your adversary.”

“Then you’re my friend?” she mumbled skeptically, surrendering to the temptation to close her eyes once more. This time sleep pulled her into its welcoming embrace, so quickly that she barely had time to register the fact that Hunt had pulled the lap blanket up to her shoulders.

“No, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m not your friend…”

She napped lightly, awakening long enough to ascertain that she was alone in the private parlor, then dozing off again in the gentle sunshine. As her body relaxed into deeper slumber, she found herself in a brilliantly colored dream, in which all her senses were heightened and her body felt as buoyant as if she was floating in a warm ocean. Slowly the shapes materialized around her…

She wandered through an unfamiliar house, a glittering mansion where daylight streamed through tall windows. The rooms were empty, no guests or servants anywhere in sight. Music from some unseen source filtered through the air, a sad and unearthly melody that infused her with yearning. Walking alone, she found a spacious marble-columned room with no ceiling…it was open to the sky, lightly shaded by drifting cloud fleece overhead. The parquet floor beneath her feet was made of huge white-and-black squares that looked like a chessboard, with life-sized stone statues poised on some of the squares.

Moving among them curiously, Annabelle turned in slow circles to view their gleaming sculpted faces. Wishing for someone to talk to, some warm human hand to cling to, she walked across the giant chessboard, searching blindly through the crowd of immobile figures…until she saw a dark form leaning indolently against a white marble column. Her heart began to hammer, and her steps slowed as she was filled with a rush of excitement that heated her skin and made her pulse beat in urgent rhythm.

It was Simon Hunt, walking toward her with a slight smile on his face. He caught her before she could retreat, and bent to whisper in her ear.

“Will you dance with me now?”

“I can’t,” she said breathlessly, struggling in his tightening embrace.

“Yes, you can,” he urged gently, his mouth hot and tender as it moved across her face. “Put your arms around me…”

As she writhed in his embrace, he laughed softly and kissed her until she was limp and helpless against him. “Queen is now subject to capture,” he murmured, drawing back to stare at her with deviltry in his eyes. “You’re in danger, Annabelle…”

She was suddenly released, and she turned to flee from him, stumbling against the statues in her haste. He followed in slow pursuit, his low laugh echoing in her ears. He stayed close behind her, deliberately prolonging the chase, until she was hot and exhausted and robbed of breath. Capturing her at last, he drew her back against him, and pulled her down to the floor. His dark head blotted out the sky as he covered her with his body, and the music was drowned out by the thunder of her own heartbeat. “Annabelle,” he whispered, “Annabelle…”

She awakened, her eyes widening in her sleep-flushed face as she sensed that someone was with her.

“Annabelle,” she heard again…but it was not the husky, caressing baritone of her dream.