as well as forget those cursed teeth he so loved. She also prayed that Lord Lycansay was not the devil Nevan had deemed him to be, because without her, her brother would have no choice but to rely on the man. In the least to get back to Edinburgh and retrieve the small sum of money she’d arranged for him to inherit from her. It wasn’t what she’d wished to have left for Nevan, but without finishing her father’s work in Dundaire, it was the best she could do.
Exasperation settled over her soul.
With a sigh, she waited for a heavenly sign to strike her senses—the moisture of a misty cloud, the vibration of God’s deep voice, the coo of a dove. None came. Not even after several seconds of her mind floating in total nothingness. Death was a strange existence.
She shivered, an ice-cold caress suddenly freezing her blood.
“Sarina!” A familiar voice tugged at her ears as a heavy weight shook her arm.
Heat snaked through her veins.
She came too, waking from sleep, her now truly opened eyes staring up at Nevan’s hovering face.
“You were moaning,” her brother said, backing away. “And growling.”
“I do not growl.” It was all she could say to keep her nerves calm as facing the reality of her nightmare was far too shocking to comprehend. And if she couldn’t accept imagining herself as wolf, and then so vividly watching said wolf be slaughtered, how could she explain it to a twelve-year-old? The mere thought of the notion stoked her nerves.
A strean of sunlight filtered into the room. “What time is it?”
“Nine,” Nevan answered, climbing onto the bed.
Bed. The last she remembered she was sitting on the settee in the parlor. “How did I get in here?” A whiff of spiced lime flitted under her nose.
“You fell asleep in the parlor, but when I couldn’t wake you, I fetched Lord Lycansay. He carried you to bed.”
Allowing Lord Lycansay into their private world might not have been a wise decision as most people don’t understand the Ogilvy gift. To those who didn’t suffer from it, it was usually deemed as the workings of an unstable mind. “I wish you would have just left me to sleep in the parlor, Nevan.”
“A settee is not a proper bed, Sister. And you did say you were to have a full day today. What sort of brother would I be if I had left you to succumb to a restless sleep knowing you would need your strength today?”
Once again, she’d been outwitted by a highly intelligent, yet highly annoying, boy of twelve.
She huffed.
Her father had no right naming her as his main heir. If last night was any indication of what she was in for in the coming days, she’d be lucky to survive one week at Lycansay Hall, never mind a month or more to complete an expedition he hadn’t finished in two years.
Scrunching the sheets, Sarina’s hand brushed against her chemise.
She gasped. “I’m undressed!”
Nevan hopped off the bed. “Of course you are. Dream filled you with fever as it wove its way through your gown. Taking it off was a must.”
“But I did not undress myself.”
Her brother sauntered over to his own bed, where he promptly lifted the lid off his damn box of teeth. “Nor did I. It was Lycansay who divested you of your gown as I hadn’t a clue how to maneuver all that fabric. The workings of a woman’s dress are confusing to a man of twelve.”
The workings of the mind of a boy of twelve were confusing to her. “You should never have allowed Lord Lycansay to touch me in such a manner.”
“Why not? I thought it an excellent first step in him becoming your husband.”
“My what?”
Nevan shot her a glare. “Your husband, Sister. Do you not recall our conversation about me finding you a husband?”
As if such ridiculous talk could ever be forgotten. “While I appreciate your wish to see me married off and secure, I insist you refrain from doing so while we are here in Dundaire.” She pushed aside the sheets and blanket and then scooted off the bed.
“But Lycansay is far better a pick for you than Tipton or that Ian fellow.”
Curiosity bit her. “What makes you think so?”
“For starters, he’s far better looking than the other two. And I would not care to have you saddled with a man you did not find pleasing on the eyes. Second, he’s wealthy, first-born, and quite the intellectual. Just like you, save for the