Ophelia (Hamlet 2)

Or, considering the curious way Caitlin was eyeing Lucas before she left, maybe it was the other way around.

Maria couldn’t help but remember her brother’s disheveled state from the morning he returned from his mysterious three-day trip. The purple shadows under his eyes, the way his hair was tousled and his face covered in stubble.

Tonight, he was impeccably dressed. His dark hair was combed, that ruler-straight precision part on the left back in place. The bags were gone. A steely determination replaced the fatigue.

And, yet, Maria thought he looked infinitely more vulnerable.

He watched her carefully. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders, she was so tired, but she might have exaggerated her yawn to give him a hint that she was ready for bed.

Lucas stopped her before she could escape from the kitchen and his presence. Pulling a small bag from his pocket, he opened it and extracted a tiny white pill. He held it out to her.

She shook her head. “No, Luc.”

“Take the pill, Maria.”

“I don’t want it.”

He cupped her chin in his hands. “Without it, will you sleep?”

They both knew the answer to that question. Though it might have been a few hours that separated her from before Turner’s attack and now, she couldn’t forget that last

night she’d slept soundly in her bed, oblivious to any threats. Now, she doubted she ever could again. As tired as she was, she doubted sleep would follow.

She turned away so that she didn’t meet his knowing gaze.

Gently, so gently, as if the smallest gesture would cause her to shatter, Lucas guided her to face him again. “I won’t sleep until you do,” he said. “Please take the pill. For me.”

How could she refuse when he entreated her in such a way? Maria would’ve rather gone another round with Turner and her trusty bat than disappoint Lucas.

Snatching the little white pill out of his palm, she popped it in her mouth and, with a grimace, swallowed it dry.

“There. Happy now?”

“Very.”

Maria scowled. She couldn’t help it. “I’m not a baby, Luc. I managed to beat him back with my bat, you know.”

“I know. And you’re not a baby, but you’ve done more than enough for tonight. For once, let me take care of you.” Wrapping one arm around her shoulder as he led her out of the kitchen, she could’ve sworn she heard him murmur, “Your big brother will take care of everything. Trust me.”

When Maria woke up the next morning, it took her a minute before she realized something wasn’t right.

The sun was streaming in at an odd angle. That wasn’t her dresser. Her nightstand was supposed to be on her right side, not over there. And why was her bedspread pink?

It hit her an instant later.

This wasn’t her bedroom.

She remembered insisting to Lucas that she wanted to return to her own room—she wasn’t going to let him ruin the one room in Ophelia that was hers alone—but some time after that pill kicked in, her brother must have had another plan. It was obvious from the decor to the pale pink walls and the flowers on the dust-free mantle that she was in the Rose Room.

And she was alone. Thank the Lord.

Something told her that that was a determination she would be making upon waking up for quite some time.

Maria rolled over in the guest bed, freezing in place when she bumped against something long, hard and skinny. Her fingers twitched, her breath coming quick. What was that?

Was she alone?

She yanked the pink bedspread back, exhaling roughly when she saw that Lucas had tucked the Louisville Slugger into bed with her.