the more her legs began shaking. She reached it and stood in the doorway, grasping it in her hands.
The lake . . .
She had dreamed of this lake. Imagined it over and over.
A choking sound came from her. She dropped to her knees. She slammed her hands against the ground, over and over.
Then Dez was beside her. He took her wrists and stilled her hands. His legs came around and stretched out so very long, with her in-between them. His arms wrapped around her waist and nudged her until her back pressed against his chest. His arms remained lightly about her. Anna leaned against him. He felt so good.
“Untuck your legs,” he said gently.
Somehow, she managed to get them from under her and stretched them out like his were. She pushed her legs against his, feeling how solid they were. For the first time in a long time, she realized she was utterly content. A grown-up Dez had come to comfort her. He hadn’t forgotten about her. This was his way of rescuing her. The real Dez would never find her hidden away at Gollingham but the Dez she had created had found her. He would take care of her.
They sat together and she listened to her surroundings for the first time. Two birds warbled, answering one another. The wind made the leaves in the trees ripple. And she could hear—and feel—Dez’s steady heartbeat against her back.
Anna liked this new world. It had taken her by surprise. She hadn’t known she could create something as wonderful as this. She might just stay in this world forever.
Then she heard something. A horse’s hooves. A creak. Suddenly, a cart appeared in the clearing in front of the cottage, driven by a man with a shiny bald head. He slowed the horse and jumped down. She could see he was short but stout.
Fear rippled through her. She had let her guard down. Something terrible had entered her perfect world. He would be a new attendant. He would take her and do awful things to her. Anna began struggling, trying to make sounds to force him to go away.
“Leave, Coral,” Dez said from behind her. “She is afraid of you.”
“But the horse, my lord,” the man protested.
“You can come back for it. Go.”
As the man hurried away, Dez’s arms felt secure around her. Anna quit her struggles.
“He’s gone, my love. He only brought us some supplies. Something to help clean you and for you to wear. He also brought food earlier. Are you hungry? Would you like to eat?”
My love . . .
Had Dez ever called her that? She couldn’t recall. This new Dez was like the old, familiar one but he was still different. She liked being called his love. Her heart told her she would always love Dez.
He stood and brought her to her feet when he did. He was very strong, she decided. Dez turned her until she faced him. His hands lightly held her waist. He gazed down at her with such tenderness that Anna’s chest hurt, a tightness that spoke of long ago and promises forced to be broken. She couldn’t think about it.
“Come and eat, Anna,” he said.
She didn’t like to eat but she couldn’t tell him with no voice. She hated the daily bowl of gruel broth. The bread that was mostly dried dough. The occasional beef which was spoiled and made her belly ache and her bowels run loose.
He took her hand. His large one swallowed hers. Once again, the nearness brought her comfort. Slowly, they moved toward a table, where she saw food—real food—sitting out.
“That was Coral who drove the wagon,” Dez said as he helped her into a seat, as if she were some fine lady and he a gentleman at a fancy dinner party. “Coral also brought this food.”
He took the chair next to her. “What would you like?” he asked.
His question overwhelmed her. This much food overwhelmed her. Her mouth trembled.
“It’s all right, Anna,” he said, taking her hand. “I will fix something for you.”
She watched as he took a plate and placed items on it. Things she had forgotten about. Large, plump strawberries. Cold chicken legs. Fresh bread, which he buttered. Her mouth salivated at the thought of creamy butter.
He placed the plate in front of her and then reached for something in a jar. A memory tugged at her and then she smiled.
“Ah, you remember when Cook would send lemonade for us.”
Cook . . .
If he mentioned his cook and