Storm at Marshbay by Clara Wimberly Page B

at night invading rooms.
    “Didn’t you see?” I asked. “When you came in, someone left by the hall door. You must have seen them.”
    “No, I didn’t see anyone, but the candle might have blinded me.” He blew out the candle he held. “Perhaps you were dreaming.”
    “It wasn’t a dream,” I insisted. “There was someone in my room. He or she spoke to me. Warned me or threatened me; I’m not sure which.”
    “Are you sure, Isabella?”
    I stood to confront him. “You don’t believe me. Whoever was here said I should leave this place before it was too late. ”
    “I didn’t hear a thing. Maybe the wind…” He reached out as if to comfort me again and Ipulled away. “Don’t be angry,” he said. “I don’t think you’re lying or hysterical. I know you really believe you saw someone and heard someone.”
    “I did! I’m not crazy or imagining things.”
     “Sweetheart,” he said. “You’re upset. You need to get out of that dress and into a nightgown. No wonder you didn’t sleep well. I’m going to ring for someone to bring you a warm drink.” He moved toward the servant’s bell, pausing when someone knocked at my door.
    We looked at each for a moment and I know he saw fear in my eyes, but he opened the door.
    Edna stood in the hall, gazing past Ian toward me. If she was surprised to see us awake and me still in my wedding dress, she didn’t show it.
    “Is anything wrong?” she asked. “I thought I heard a scream.”
    “Isabella had a fright. Could you do us a favor and ask someone to bring up a cup of warm milk or cocoa? ”
    “Of course,” she said, backing away from the door. “I’ll do it myself.”
    I was a little surprised that he’d sent Edna away instead of asking her to help me undress, but then I realized he had no problem doing that himself.  
    The intensity in his gaze made it impossible for me to look away. I stood silently, waiting. He turned me around so he could unfasten the long row of buttons on my dress. His fingers were warm, his touch light, but I shivered just the same. Not from fright or chill, but from an emotion I didn’t recognize. In moments the buttons were undone and he turned me around to face him, reaching down to the buttons that held the lacy sleeves closed.
    “You don’t have to. I can do the rest.”
    “Be quiet,” he told me, his voice quiet and sensual.
    Once the sleeves were unfastened, he turned me around again, pushing the back of my dress open and quickly untying the ribbons on the tight corset.
    I gasped at the feel of his hands against my naked skin and at his closeness.  So close I could feel his breathagainst my hair. When the corset loosened I felt such relief, I sighed.
    “That’s good,” he murmured. “Just breathe. Where’s your nightgown?”
    I held my dress against me to keep it from slipping to the floor. “On the chair where the maid left it for me.”
    He retrieved the gown and returned, I wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but I clung tightly to my dress. Laying the gown on the bed, he reached behind my neck and removed my necklace, smiling as he looked down into my eyes. Then to my mixed relief and disappointment, he eased the nightgown over my head and shoulders, letting it fall over my wedding dress.
    “Shall I leave while you step out of your dress?” he asked
    He was teasing me.
     “Just turn around,” I said.
    He turned slowly, crossing his arms over his chest, his head tilted to the side. I decided I could see amusement in the set of his shoulders.
    I wiggled out of the voluminous dress and then the corset, quickly put my arms in the nightgown and stepped out of the puddle of silk and lace on the floor.
    “You can turn around now.” I gathered up the dress in my arms and he came, took the garments from me and deposited them on a chair.
    He then turned down the covers of the bed, waving his arm in a motion for me to sit.
    “What time is it?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed.
    He glanced out