Lake of Dreams by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online Page A

you for almost a month.”
    She had expected it, and yet hearing him admit it was still a shock. Her hands trembled a bit. “I—I’ve been dreaming about you, too,” she confessed. “What’s happening? Do we have some sort of psychic link? I don’t even believe in stuff like that!”
    He sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. “What do you believe in, Thea? Fate? Chance? Coincidence?”
    â€œAll of that, I think,” she said slowly. “I think some things are meant to be . . . and some things just happen.”
    â€œHow do you categorize us? Did this just happen, or are we meant to be?”
    â€œYou’re assuming that there is an ‘us,’ ” she pointed out. “We’ve been having weird dreams, but that isn’t . . .”
    â€œIntimate?” he suggested, his gaze sharpening.
    The dreams had certainly been that. Her cheeks pinkened as she recalled some of the sexually graphic details. She hoped his dreams hadn’t been mirrors of hers . . . but they had, she realized, seeing the knowledge in his eyes. Her face turned even hotter.
    He burst out laughing. “If you could see your expression!”
    â€œStop it,” she said crossly, fixing her gaze firmly on her cup because she was too embarrassed to look at him. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to face him again.
    â€œThea, darling.” His tone was patient, and achingly tender as he tried to soothe her. “I’ve made love to you in every way a man can love a woman . . . but only in my dreams. How can a dream possibly match reality?”
    If reality was any more intense than the dreams, she thought, it would surely kill her. She traced a pattern on the tabletop with her finger, stalling while she tried to compose herself. Just how real were the dreams? How could he call her “darling” with such ease, and why did it sound so right to her ears? She tried to remind herself that it had been less than twenty-four hours since she had seen him for the first time, but found that the length of time meant less than nothing. There was a bone-deep recognition between them that had nothing to do with how many times the sun had risen and set.
    She still couldn’t look at him, but she didn’t have to see him for every cell in her body to be vibrantly aware of him. The only other times she had felt so painfully alive and sensitive to another’s presence were in her dreams of this man. She didn’t know how, or why, their dreams had become linked, but the evidence was too overwhelming for her to deny that it had happened. But just how closely did the dreams match reality? She cleared her throat. “I know this is a strange question . . . but do you have a scar on your left thigh?”
    He was silent for several moments, but finally she heard him sigh. “Yes.”
    She closed her eyes as the shock of his answer rolled through her. If the dreams were that accurate, then she had another question for him, and this one was far more important. She braced herself and asked it, her voice choking over the words. “In your dreams, have you killed me?”
    Again he was silent, so long that finally she couldn’t bear the pressure and glanced up at him. He was watching her, his gaze steady. “Yes,” he said.

T HEA SHOVED AWAY from the table and bolted for the front door. He caught her there, simply wrapping his arms around her from behind and holding her locked to him. “My God, don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered into her tousled curls, his voice rough with emotion. “I would never hurt you. Trust me.”
    â€œTrust you!” she echoed incredulously, near tears as she struggled against his grip. “Trust you ? How can I? How could I ever?”
    â€œYou’re right about that, at least,” he said, a hard tone edging into the