Her Dark Knight by Sharon Cullen Page B

down her cheeks. She could barely breathe through the sobs. Whether she was the real Madelaine or not, this was tearing her apart and he couldn’t bear to watch it happen.
    “He raped her.”
    Christien closed his eyes. He wanted to scream in agony, wanted to find the bastard who’d done this and kill him with his bare hands, but he was already dead.
    “Shhh, little one. Quiet.” He took her in his arms, unable to stand by while she grieved and needing her next to him before his own memories overtook him.
    “What’s happening to me, Christien? Why am I suddenly having dreams of this woman?”
    He stilled, her words piercing him. The emotion was too real to be forced. Could it be she truly didn’t know what was happening? Ah, God. He wished he knew.
    The look she gave him was so desperate it tore him apart. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
    He saw the fear those words evoked and knew she was balancing on a slippery slope. She honestly thought she was losing her mind and who could blame her?
    “No, Madelaine. I believe you.” But did he? Did he really believe her? He wanted to, but his mind still balked.
    “What if…” He paused to consider his words carefully. “What if there are two realities? What if what you are experiencing aren’t dreams but something else?”
    Her brows drew together in confusion. If she was an actress then she deserved an Academy Award for this performance. However, he was beginning to believe she wasn’t acting.
    “Of course they’re dreams. What else could they be?”
    He hesitated, but knew he had to put it out there, if only to get her reaction. “Memories.”
    Her brows dipped and she chewed on her lower lip. “Memories? I don’t understand.”
    “There are people who believe death isn’t really the end. That a person’s…essence…can be passed on to another body.”
    “You’re talking about reincarnation.” The brows drew deeper and her eyes narrowed in thought before she shook her head. “There is no such thing as reincarnation, Christien.”
    “Some would disagree.”
    “So you’re saying these dreams aren’t dreams but memories of a past life I led? A past that includes someone who looks like you?”
    “Stranger things have happened.”
    “I don’t believe in reincarnation.” She backed away from him. “I’ve been under a lot of stress with this new job and moving to a new city.”
    “So you believe stress triggered these dreams?”
    “Yes.” She nodded vigorously.
    “The dream you just had, tell me, why did I have to leave?” Only she would know the answer to this question.
    She looked away and bit her bottom lip, but this time he didn’t sense her trying to come up with a lie. “So you weren’t caught with her,” she said so quietly he had to lean forward to hear her.
    “Caught with whom?”
    She looked at him with wide eyes. “Her. The other Madelaine. The one who looks like me.”
    “Where were they that they could get caught?”
    She frowned and he could tell she was thinking, plunging herself back into the dream. “A garden.”
    His heart stilled. Up until now she’d told him things Lucheux could have easily known, but Lucheux didn’t know about that night in the garden.
    “Did he find me?”
    Her golden-brown eyes looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
    Mon Dieu. He was beginning to believe she wasn’t trying to trick him. Her reactions were too quick and too real. No hesitation.
    “Do you know I fell in love with you that night?” he asked in Norman French.
    She frowned at him.
    “Did Lucheux send you to me?” he asked again in Norman French, studying her, looking for any sign she understood what he was saying. Nothing. Not one spark of recognition.
    “What are you saying?” she asked, obviously confused.
    He looked away. “Never mind.”
    She thought she was going mad? ’Twas nothing to what his mind was telling him. More and more he was beginning to believe she was an innocent bystander in all of