Page 2 of Whispers of Torment

She cupped John’s face and drew him down for a kiss, partly because she wanted the unusual feeling her dream man’s voice had evoked to continue…partly because her chest burned with the guilt of spending the past eight unconscious hours with a man who was not her mate.

The breeze freshened once more, filling Lillian’s nose with the salt of the sea. It washed the dream from her mind, filling her with loss. For a long moment she basked in the memory of that dream.

She saw a fire crackling on a grate, and a light sweat dewing the skin of a beautiful man. His lips had met the corner of hers too briefly before they tumbled into the depths of a feather mattress. The fingers on her spine were rough and erotically unfamiliar.

When they were replaced by his mouth, she had gasped.

She could see him running.

Lillian slipped from between the snowy white sheets and padded across the thick carpet to the bathroom. She shut herself inside and leaned against the door, breathing hard. In the other room, she heard the television flick on and the broadcast of the morning news.

She trailed her fingers over the face of her reflection in the mirror. Her clear skin—other than looking green beneath the fluorescent lighting—appeared unchanged. She saw the same thick, wavy hair and slender frame. But when she lifted her eyes, she did not see the calm, grey sea that John claimed them to be. They were bright and wide, burning still from the dream.

But was it a dream? When she thought of the man who tumbled to the feather mattress with her, new images layered over those.

A speeding airplane, the white expanse of sky, and a man’s watch on a strong wrist.

A wrist that did not belong to John.

She twisted to see her spine in the mirror. Yes, the immortal tattoo was still there. The flowering vine tattoo had been part of her always.

She splashed her face with icy water and twined her hair in a rope over one shoulder. To the timeless reflection she added a splash of red lipstick and a delicate rope of pearls. But when she stepped into the lavender sheath dress, she called for John.

He appeared behind her at once. With over sixty years of practice, John could anticipate her every need. His fingers traced the curve of her spine, making her squirm with the memory of her dream and the man who had pressed his lips to that very spot.

“John,” she said, hoping her impatience passed as eagerness to explore the island.

In one swift maneuver, he had her zipped and turned into his arms. “You’re beautiful as always.”

She felt her face heat.

“I can still make you blush after over six decades.” He laughed and drew her into the suite.

The table for two was beautifully set with china and fine hotel silver. John guided her to a chair with a hand on the small of her back. When she stiffened, he ducked to see her eyes.

She had to push away that dream of another man touching her there. The only way to do that was to keep John from looking at her too close.

Like the gentleman he was taught to be, he held out the chair for her to sit and seated himself opposite her. As she lifted the teapot and poured the fragrant Chinese tea, his gaze never left her.

“You’ve forgotten your bracelets.”

Lillian stifled a gasp. Had she? She had never forgotten in all these years, and yet in her dream, her wrists had been bare.

That man had gripped them in one hand.

“You’re right.” She fought panic. “I’ll get them after breakfast. It smells wonderful.”

She brought the china teacup to her mouth and took a scalding sip. John’s long dark brows were knitted as he studied her. His hair flopped into his smoldering black eyes. Where John was dark, her dream man was light.

As she thought of him, her mind was flooded by new images, a newspaper flapping in his face and long, artistic fingers tapping his knee. Those fingers….

“What’s on the agenda today?” She had to stop this. It was only a dream. She glanced out at the baking sands. She longed to stretch beneath the sun and sleep. A sailboat drifted past and she heard the faint cry of ocean birds. “Beach?”

“I have something else in mind.” He rose from the table and offered her his hand. “Shall I get your sweater?”

“Oh, please.” She waved a hand. “Who needs a sweater in Hawaii?”

While he waited, she enclosed herself in the bathroom once again. As she snapped the wide silver cuff bracelets onto each wrist, she stared hard at her eyes in the mirror.