Away With the Fairies (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 2)

Fauning Over You

Author's Note:

It's a double update today. This is part 1. Stop after this one if you're in the mood only for fluff today. Dun-dun-duuuuuuuhn! :P

Love,

K.

***

Fiona stared at the ceiling of the empty room. She'd been turning and trying to settle down for the past three hours! The sleeping bag, which reminded her of some disgusting fat caterpillar, was slippery, too hot when zipped, and too cool when open. Maybe, it was indeed better on sand, like he said, and maybe, Fiona was just a spoiled urban bird - but how could anyone sleep like that?! She'd prudently moved her suitcase - well, he did, carrying it with one hand like it was a paper bag with a scone from a bakery - downstairs with her, so theoretically she could get up, straighten her poor whining spine, and paint. Except, her head was starting to hurt, and she just wanted to sleep! She even considered trying the sofa again - when she heard the noise. He was having his nightmare again, except this time there was no scraping and thumping, just those low throaty moans of his. Fiona climbed out of the bag and quickly walked upstairs.

He was spread on the bed, his arms open like a letter T, thrashing on the sheets. The duvet was on the floor, and she could hear his ragged breathing.

"Will," she called. "Will..."

He groaned and shook his head violently, from side to side.

"Will!" She raised her voice. "Wake up!"

Was she even supposed to wake him up? She should've googled it. She bent and pressed one hand into the bed, leaning to him.

"No," he groaned. "No... No!"

He jerked, and some slurred words poured out of him, in some coarse language she didn't know.

"Will, wake up!"

He took a few sharp loud breaths, gasping, inhaling with an open mouth, and then his eyes opened. There was enough light from the outside lamp for Fiona to see the grimace on his face, and the sweat on his forehead.

"Fiona..."

"Hi," she said and touched his shoulder with her other hand.

"Where—" He squeezed his eyes tightly, and exhaled. "It's the cottage, isn't it? What time is it?"

She climbed on the bed, crawled to him on her knees, and sat down.

"It's just after two," she said.

He rubbed his face with his hands. She could see how much they shook.

"Do you get these every night?" she asked with sympathy.

"No, it's just the past two nights– The damn bag, and the bed–"

"Do you want your duvet?" she asked. "It fell."

He lowered his hands, and gave her a long look. She didn't understand the emotion behind it.

"You shouldn't– shouldn't come here when you hear me," he said darkly, and started sitting up, his massive body moving awkwardly.

She winced away, and pulled her head into her shoulders.

"Sorry," she whispered. "You're right, it's none of–"

"Fiona, I could hurt you," he said, and she looked at him. "I don't remember what I'm dreaming, but it can't be good," he said darkly.

"You seem in pain," she said in a small voice. "I can't just let you–" She bit her bottom lip.