I've dreamt about her before. Sometimes they were dreams in which I completed my mission and she forgave me for what I knew the Rakshana would do to her. Sometimes they were dreams in which she was taken from me and I couldn't save her. Most often, though, they were dreams in which she and I were together and no one else was anywhere to be seen. There was no Rakshana and no Order. There was no class, no India, and no England. There was only us.

In these dreams, she comes to me as I lie in my tent in the gypsy camp. I look up from reading my book, ask her why she has come. She insists that I know. "I think it's rather obvious, don't you?" she asks me. My breath catches in my throat as I consider what that question could mean. I dare to hope that it means what I truly want it to mean.

Still I tell her, "I'm afraid I don't understand, Miss Doyle."

She sits very close to me, the bottom of her dress brushing against the small bit of skin that is exposed just below my shirt. I move to tug my shirt back down, but she stays my hand with hers.

"Please call me Gemma, Kartik."

Her hand will not let my hand free, though I would not have tried to free it.

I attempt to swallow and somehow manage to croak, "Gemma."

She holds my hand in her lap with one hand and runs her other hand through my hair. I close my eyes at her touch. She cups my chin in her hand, and I open my eyes to meet hers. "Is it obvious yet?" she asks when my eyes open.

I am unable to respond.

She presses her lips to mine, and my body falls back onto my bed. Her left hand weaves itself into my hair. I allow my own hand to rest on the small of her back. I can feel her lips curve into a smile. She pulls away from me for a moment. "Do you still wonder what I am doing in your tent?"

"No," I manage to say somehow.

She sits on top of me, one leg on either side of me. She reaches behind her and undoes the back of her dress. Very soon, it is lying on the floor next to my bed.

"You don't have to do that," I hear myself say as she moves to unfasten her corset.

She looks at me as though I am insane and continues fiddling with the hooks and eyes. Soon, the corset has been discarded, as well. "But it's really much more comfortable not wearing that." She leans down and her lips are on me once more, gradually making their way to my temple. "Are you comfortable, Kartik?" she breathes into my ear.

I cannot trust my voice to answer for me and settle for merely nodding my agreement before brushing my lips against her collarbone. She shivers. I misinterpret this as a bad sign. "I'm sorry, Mi—Gemma."

"Don't be," she says in the same breathy voice. "Although, I'm beginning to think that you're wearing far too much clothing." She tugs at my shirt.

I sit up cradling her in my lap and quickly rid myself of the garment. I kiss the hollow of her throat, and she arches into me. I look directly into her emerald eyes. I don't know how to voice my odd request. I don't know if I have the courage. When my eyes meet hers, though, I know that she will probably consent to my desire.

"Gemma," I say, my voice rough to my own ears.

She does not respond, only gently runs her tongue across her bottom lip.

"Will you please stay the night here with me?"

"Of course." Her voice is also less smooth than usual.

I rest her gently on my bed, holding myself just above her enough not to crush her but still to be able to feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. I kiss her once more before continuing with my request. "Would you mind if we just slept? If I just held you?"

She wraps her arms around my neck and swiftly rolls onto her side, taking me with her. "I would love for you to hold me all night long, Kartik. That's why I came here, after all."

We fall asleep, gradually becoming more and more tangled in each other's limbs.

But when I wake from the dream, my arms are empty. I am alone. She was never here. It was only a dream.