He squared his shoulders and defied the ocean of fear that threatened to drown him. He took the pellet of herbs from his pocket and put it in his mouth. Immediately, a pungent taste filled his head.
Grace lingered on what could be her last glimpse of the man she loved. When she’d first seen him, his lonely beauty had struck her like the pure true note of a hammer on brass. Her last impression was no different. Any joy he’d found in her arms had been fleeting.
Breaking into her anxious distraction, Wolfram trotted up. She patted and praised him, knowing all the while that she took him from what he loved. They had that in common.
She fumbled at her waist for the short rope she’d brought to tie to his collar. She’d protested when Matthew insisted she take the dog. Now she was glad. If things went wrong, he’d keep Monks and Filey away. And outside the gates, Wolfram was a link with Matthew.
The dog stood obediently while she knotted the rope. She said a prayer of thanks that Matthew had trained him so well. At times, she thought Wolfram was almost human.
“Courage, my friend,” she whispered. Even though it was she, not the dog, who needed courage. Fear made the breath stall in her throat. Fear not just for herself, but for Matthew too.
What if he miscalculated the dosage of the herbal mixture? Too much might kill him.
Dear God, don’t let her escape end in tragedy.
She had to trust him. She’d seen firsthand his knowledge of plants. He’d said he’d only take enough herb to incapacitate himself.
She wouldn’t think about what could go wrong. Instead, she had to watch for her opportunity to sneak out the gate.
Her hand clenched in the thick hair on Wolfram’s neck. Very carefully, keeping her eyes fixed on the men, she rose.
In the late spring heat, her widow’s weeds prickled uncomfortably. She’d become used to the light silks and satins of her risqué wardrobe. Now the thick black fabric scratched her sensitive skin and the high neck and long sleeves irritated her.
She watched as the men began to unload. The two draft horses stood patiently in harness as the men worked around them. There was a lot of garbled shouting and it was clear the drivers were wary of Monks. Which spoke volumes for their intelligence.
Matthew’s guttural groan made her jerk her head around. He staggered out of the line of trees, clutching his chest as if his heart pained him. She suppressed a horrified gasp. He looked so ill.
For the first time, she really understood what he meant when he said he had a violent physical reaction to certain herbs. He doubled over and she heard his painful retching from where she hid.
If she’d known what he’d go through, she wouldn’t have fallen in with his plan. She dug her nails into her palms to stop herself running to help him.
This was a charade. He was doing this so she could escape.
The words sounded hollow and unconvincing when she stood in impotent grief and watched her lover in such agony, he contorted with pain.
Wolfram whined sof
tly. “Stay, Wolfram,” she said quietly.
The big body under her restraining hand quivered with tension and his attention fixed on where Matthew struggled to stay upright. She couldn’t blame the dog. Her stomach lurched with revulsion that she left Matthew in this state.
“Help me!” Matthew gasped, falling. Even at this distance, she saw he shook as though he suffered a fit. “Help me, for God’s sake!”
“Shit!” Monks turned to see what was wrong. “Filey! His sodding lordship looks right to die!”
All four men raced across to where Matthew writhed on the ground.
It cut Grace to the bone to see that long, lean body twisting and trembling. Had his madness been like this? No wonder he lived in perpetual fear of his illness returning.
He went through this for her. She owed it to him to see he didn’t suffer in vain. She owed it to him to escape so she could set him free. Inside these polished white walls, she could do nothing but share his burden.
“Come on, Wolfram. Let’s go.”
The dog whined and turned his head toward his master. He didn’t move when she pulled the rope.
“Wolfram!” she said in her best imitation of Matthew.
She tugged the rope again. All attention focused on Matthew. He sounded in excruciating pain. Each strangled groan froze the blood in her veins to ice.