Dylan de Beaumon, the adopted daughter of a Duke, recalls the memories of her past-life after hitting her head. Upon realizing she was a villainess character in a novel, she decides to use her intellectual giftedness to get a good career and run awa...
'He must be feeling overwhelmed due to Edwin's health.'
"Wait for me," he said, putting his hand over hers, then bringing her hand to his lips. His lips brushed her hand, sending shock waves down her spine. "I'll be back with good news."
He made arrangements for a quick trip back to his father's land. His father, the current Marquis, was the only person who was above his grandfather in the Frederique household. In other words, he was the only one who could break off his engagement to Lady Lynette.
***
"Can you sit up?" Dylan asked him. "I'll help you."
She wriggled her hand between the neck and his pillow, and lifted his head a little. With her other hand, she brought the glass to his mouth, and tilted it slightly to let the liquid medicine run through his lips.
"You should be at school," Edwin scolded weakly. She gently lowered his head, and he sighed and sank back into the pillow, exhausted. "You shouldn't worry about me."
"Grandpapa, this is serious," she said quietly. "Why do you want to send me away? I don't understand."
He shut his eyes, sweat beading on his brow. He was so clearly not fine, yet he was so adamant on sending her away. Edwin didn't want Dylan, who had to watch her mother die, watch him die in a similar way.
"Rest now," she said, slipping her hand into his. "There's plenty of time tomorrow."
'So please don't leave me in your sleep.'
Afterward, she watched him fight off sleep, until finally he lost. Within the next few minutes he was fast asleep.
"Thanks, Dylan." The Marchioness gave her a warm smile. "My father-in-law sees you as one of his own. Having you here means a lot."
Dylan watched his chest rise and fall. "You don't have to thank me," she whispered, careful not to wake him. "Grandpapa has done far more for me."
"A man who has never been sick in his life to fall so sick. And so suddenly at that," the Marchioness thought aloud. She turned from the bed, her eyes welling with tears.
'I don't understand it either.'
"What did the doctors say?" She gently squeezed his hand, as if to assure herself he was still there. That he hadn't left her. "Is it old age?"
The Marchioness frowned. "They're not sure, dear. We've called for every doctor in the capital, but nobody could give us a proper diagnosis."
"Hmm." Gently, she removed her hand from his, careful not to wake him. "Do you have a library here? With books on medicine?"
"One of the best in town. Would you like to look at it?"
"If it's possible, please."
"Of course, follow me," said the Marchioness as she rose from her chair and smoothed out her skirt. "You're welcome to go anywhere in this estate. You're family now."
Dylan flinched. Family—it was a word she dared not utter. The word had shifted its meaning considerably since it entered her life. Dylan frowned, wondering if she would ever truly understand the word.
***
Near dawn, she had fallen asleep with her head leaning on the table where she had been reading. Her chest rose and fell peacefully. The light from the oil lamp on the table cast her face in a warm glow and made her golden hair seem like a halo.
Cadence spotted her in one the corners, surrounded by piles of books. To him, she truly was an angel descended from heaven. She looked beautiful—and he fell in love with her all over again.
He pulled over another chair and sat beside her. Cadence reached out and touched the silky strands of her hair as they fell around her, scattered across the desk. She looked heavenly.
Dylan's thick eyelashes fluttered open. "Is this a dream?" Her voice was still a little groggy and thick with sleep. "It's been a while since I had a nice one."
He nodded and his lips curved up in the corners. It was a beautiful smile. At such a close distance, she stared at him in a daze. Cadence was beautiful.
She rose from her chair, and crawled into his lap, wrapping her little hands tightly around his neck. He flinched. What was she doing?
"Cadence," she whispered. She wriggled closer to him on the chair, and his body responded instantly. "What a nice dream..."
He shook his head. This definitely wasn't a dream.
"It's my dream," she sighed. "I can do whatever I want."
She leaned toward him and her lips pressed down on his. The touch of her soft lips sent a shock wave through his body. Time stood still.
They kissed long, slow and deep. When his fingers wove through her hair, playing with the curls and gently tugging the strands in a strange kind of scalp massage, a throaty murmur escaped her. It drove him insane.
His grip tightened and the kiss intensified. She squirmed against his lap, and a tortured moan escaped his lips. Cadence held one arm around her waist and tried not to think about the feel of her bottom on his lap, the curve of her hip against his hand.
Crushed in his embrace, she strained even closer, desperate for more of him. "How odd," she muttered against his lips. "You feel so real."
She put her head against his shoulder. This was definitely the best dream she ever had. Dylan relaxed against him, breathing in his scent. He rubbed her back, and eventually, she fell asleep in his arms.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes, but he held it all in. He didn't want to wake her. Cadence held her tightly and close to him like she was something precious. This was as far as he could go. They could only have each other in their dreams.
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