CHAPTER THREE
HANDS OF STEEL hooked onto Sydney’s hips, jerking her to a stop. Her upper body free-floated, still out of control. Her stomach did somersaults, and her heart threatened to burst through the wall of her chest as she dangled, torso arched and upside down. The night whirled around her head while wood bit into her buttocks and a human vise trapped her legs. She was precariously balanced on the balcony’s rail and could still fall. She’d fallen in her dreams.
Blood rushed to her head. Mouth dry, she croaked, “Help.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, Sydney. Come on, lift your arms and grab hold of mine.”
Concentrating, she forced herself to respond to the deep voice. Hands slid to her waist and steadied her. She caught hold of thick, powerfully muscled wrists.
“That’s it,” the voice urged. “Now hang on. Steady.”
Her body was shifted forward to safety. The vise relaxed and freed her. Her feet touched the deck. But the face that gradually came into focus by the soft glow of room light was rough-hewn and beard-stubbled. Confused, she frowned.
“Benno?”
“I’m here.”
She glanced over her shoulder and the fog danced in slow motion. “Did you see him? Kenneth?”
He gave her a sharp shake that got her full attention. “Not Kenneth, Sydney, Benno.”
“I know who you are. I mean out there,” she said, slanting her head. The landscape shifted and it took a monumental effort to make her world stop moving. No matter how hard Sydney tried, she could see nothing beyond the foggy blanket still rising from the cliffs that overlooked the ocean. “I heard Kenneth call me.”
“Sydney, listen.” Firm fingers under her chin brought her face-to-face with the man who had just saved her life. “I was calling you. Not Kenneth. There was a crash and then I heard you cry out. You must have been dreaming.”
Dreaming? Had she been? Sydney had thought so, but now she wasn’t certain.
“I found my wedding ring,” she ground out. Even talking was an effort. “I threw it into the ocean at the memorial service so it would be with Kenneth forever. When I woke up a little while ago, the ring was on the night stand.” Not liking the way Benno was frowning at her, she insisted, “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t imagine it.” At least she didn’t think so.
“So where is this ring?”
She looked down at her empty hand. “I-I dropped it down there somewhere.” Hadn’t she?
Sydney was so dizzy she could hardly stand upright. And her mouth was dry, like she had a hangover. But she’d only had that splash of Ameiuridae in her tea and that had been a good while ago. Her eyes demanded to close, her brain to shut out the all-consuming feeling of helplessness. This was not her, not Sydney Raferty, not the strong self-assured woman she knew herself to be. She’d been losing herself little-by-little over the past months and the feeling was accelerating.
What in the world was happening to her?
That she’d just been saved from a possibly fatal fall broke down the last of Sydney’s defenses. Forgetting any vestige of reserve, she totally lost control and began to sob.
“You’re going to be all right,” Benno assured her, and when she shook her head in protest, he pulled her into his arms. “Shush, I’m here and you’re safe now.”
Safe.
She clung to his shirtfront as his strong arms wrapped around her. Tears continued to pour from her eyes and drench him. How could she be safe from her own mind when it kept playing tricks on her? She must have dreamed everything.
But the ring... the ring had been so real.
Benno’s hand stroking her head relaxed her and, thankful she wasn’t alone, Sydney melted into him, allowed him to comfort her. If it weren’t for Benno, she might have fallen to her death. She owed him her life, Sydney thought. But how would she ever repay the kindness of this stranger?
When her sobs quieted to mere sniffles, he said, “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
No protest passed her lips, but when she tried to move, she stumbled. Before she knew what was happening, Benno lifted her into his arms and carried her inside. His heart beat strongly through the thickly muscled wall of his chest. When he set her down and moved away, she felt bereft. But he didn’t immediately leave her side. He tucked the covers around her.
She stayed his hand before he could draw away. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already have. Try to get some rest now.”
Still she didn’t let go. Realizing that she needed some kind of reassurance, Benno sat at the edge of the bed and waited.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” she whispered.
“I think you’re exhausted and grief-stricken.”
“And confused,” she added softly. “I can’t figure out what’s going on, so how can I expect you to understand? Everything seems so out-of-synch, so fuzzy.”
He wondered if she hadn’t taken something – a tranquilizer or a sleeping pill – to relax her, to allow her much-needed sleep. That would account for her confusion and her clumsiness. Some people had negative reactions to prescription drugs.
“Everything will be a little less frightening in the morning,” he promised with an encouraging grin.
A return smile transformed her ordinary face into something of quiet beauty. “Why do I believe you?”
“Because you need to. Now go back to sleep.”
Trustingly, she allowed her drooping eyes to close. She was drifting off, but still she clutched his hand as if hanging onto a lifeline. He didn’t have the heart to pull away from her. A wave of tenderness washed through him as he studied the vulnerable woman whose long lashes separated into wet spikes.
A puddle created by her tears lay in the hollow between lid and cheek. Using his thumb, he wiped the moisture away. She stirred, but her breathing deepened as if his touch had relaxed her further into sleep. She seemed so emotionally fragile, but Benno guessed that wasn’t unusual under the circumstances.
No, he didn’t think she was crazy, merely stressed out and in need of a friend. When her grip on him loosened, he gently pulled his hand free, snatched the extra pillow and made himself an impromptu bed on the floor. If she were to awaken while caught up in another dream, he would be there for her.
Benno knew what it was like to be alone and afraid. Not so much time had passed since he’d left town in disgrace that he couldn’t remember as if it were yesterday. Perhaps the circumstances surrounding that twenty-year old tragedy made him feel responsible for Kenneth Lord’s widow.
Then, again, maybe the link had nothing to do with his friend but with Sydney herself...
As Benno settled down for the night, he tossed the circumstances of Kenneth’s demise over in his mind. Death by drowning. Coincidence? How could he ever be sure? One thing was certain. He’d be smart to start looking over his own shoulder.