The tea had been delicious and so were the crumpets, only slightly darker than most would make them but certainly nowhere near burnt the way the first meal had been. She spread jam over each and every crumb and crater, delighting in the way it was both sweet and tart.

Pippa stirred in her sleep, sighing.

Suddenly, he was there... Viktre, grinning at her with that heated look in his eyes. He approached her and scooped up a tiny bit of the jam, smearing a little across her lips before he kissed her, tasting of the sweetness the spread presented upon those tiers.

She stirred again, this time, a sigh of delight purring from her throat. A slight smile formed across her lips, she was starting to feel restless.

He kissed her deeply. But then he tore away from her mouth and had a completely different face. The man was grabbing her by her arms, shaking her until her teeth rattled. It was the face of the man she suspected of killing her family... out for his last kill. Suddenly, she was fighting for her life as he lunged for her.

She cried out as she went down beneath him.

He turned into flames, the feel of the heat could be felt on her flesh, searing into her.

With the sensation of someone being on top of her, holding her down, she found her eyes popping open to the darkened interior of her room, but that was all she could do... She felt herself wheezing for sweet air, her body still and heavy against the bed, limbs like leaden weights. "H.....e.....l....p...." she thought she said, but nothing came out of her lips.

Fear was an intense knot within her belly, making it near impossible to drag in a breath. Then a noise from somewhere below jarred her enough for her to sit up as if throwing someone off of her and screaming until she realized that nobody was there...

Fuck.

Her pained eyes found the window where she saw the curtains closed against the light of dawn barely starting to set the fabric aglow. "Sweet Jesus," she whispered to herself, clutching then at her chest as her heart pounded, the feeling of sweaty fabric clinging to her skin only adding to that feeling.

It had been a dream...

Alas, it was not sweet Jesus who answered, but her employer who knocked on the door. "Pippa?" Tristan didn't wait for an answer. His hands occupied by a tray with oatmeal and tea, he carefully opened the door with his elbow and stepped in. She was awake alright, but the sight didn't put him at ease. She still looked shaken and sickly. He put the tray down on the night stand. "How are you feeling?" He pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed.

She gave a start when he opened the door, nearly toppling from her rumpled bed. But it was just Tristan. She stared at him unblinkingly for what one might consider the longest moment, a stare that would slow time itself when in reality, it went by normally. Then she took in a deep breath and gave a shuddering sigh, shifting back down so her head was on the pillow again. It took her that time to realize he had asked her a question. Her mouth pulled downward in a frown, forehead puckering. "I'm fine," she said softly and flatly.

Pippa wasn't, though. She wasn't fine. She was having bad dreams and she was... oh god, that was right, she was most likely pregnant. How could she have let it happen?

In fact, the sight of food churned her stomach. A gag bubbled forth and she slapped her hand over her mouth. There was no point, it was a dry heave as there was nothing in her stomach at the moment.

Her physical appearance gave him no reason to believe her words. When she gagged, he jumped to his feet and stepped back. He was wearing his good clothes for work later after all. When it was clear that she wasn't going to throw up, he crouched down and pulled the empty chamber pot from under the bed, just in case she would actually throw up later on. Then he sat back down and held out his hand. "Allow me to check your pulse. How's your head? You had a nasty fall yesterday."

"My head hurts," she said. She let him feel her pulse which was still racing, her heart still hammering against her rib cage like sticks on a xylophone. "I was making tea, and that is the last thing I recall." She didn't recall falling or fainting, or even cleaning.

Tristan frowned when he felt her pulse. Her heart was racing, and given the fact that she had just woken up, that was a particular cause of concern. He put his head on her forehead to feel her temperature and then muttered "Allow me..." and shifted forward to to feel her head to check for bumps and other irregularities. "How's your vision?"

There was a rather pronounced goose egg on the back of her head, perhaps even a little dried blood, but nothing to cause concern that she might have had a concussion seeing as she was awake and talking after a faint. It was enough to cause a migraine, however. She did not have a fever, though her forehead was still slick with sweat after she'd felt pinned down. A frown creased her forehead and tugged at her lips, and she said, "The light hurts but it could be worse I suppose. I just need some time to collect myself this morning and I will get to work."

Tristan let go of her head and stood up. "You certainly will not," he decreed. He walked over to the window and closed the curtains a little further to block out as much daylight as possible. "You will stay in bed and rest today. You've had your nerves shaken, not to mention that fall and the prior fainting. Doug- Lord Gordon's man is here and he knows how to look after himself, and so do I. I'll be in the office this morning, but you can call on him if you should need something." He poured a little bit of water in the wash stand and washed his hands.

"But I am fine," she protested. "I just... need some time to collect myself, as I said." She watched through the dim room as he moved to wash his hands. Pippa gave a sigh then and wrapped her arms around her knees, which were covered by the bedclothes and left her decent. Truth be told, him adjusting things so the morning light wouldn't pierce her eyes was a great kindness and she felt like she didn't need kindness right at the moment. She bit the inside of her cheek and gave thought.

Then she said, "What if I sat down and let myself rest every now and then? And if I feel it's too much, I'll stop altogether... Please, Dr. Wells, I need something to occupy my hands that isn't going to lead to more trouble."

Tristan turned to her and tilted his head a little. "Very well," he said, after considering it for a moment. "But no heavy work. Ask Mr. Roberts - Lord Gordon's man - ask him to carry water up if you need it. No cooking, either. We'll pick something up for dinner. And do rest if you feel tired or dizzy. I'll come check on you during lunch. If you seem sick in anyway, then, you'll go back to bed. Alright?" He looked at her insistently.