Set me free, she silently pleaded.Let me find solace with the one person who loves me.
The next day, a doctor arrived. He listened to her pulse and bled her a little.
“We must balance the melancholic spirit,” he said to Gray, as a footman carried the bloody bowl away. “She merely needs rest and food. That will see her right as rain.”
Gray had nodded, but his hazel eyes remained turbulent and watchful.
Isla met his gaze boldly over the doctor’s shoulder.
I dare you, she said with her expression.Cast me out, Gray.
Her brother looked away first, a frown between his brows, arms folded across his chest.
He didn’t cast her out.
Isla wasn’t sure if she should be encouraged that he still retained enough human decency to care about her welfare, or furious that he preferred control over all else.
On day eight, her fifth day of not eating, the gnawing hunger penetrated the fog of her grief. Her body demanded to live. Isla ate a small bite of a scone and then crumbled the rest so Gray wouldn’t know.
She did the same on the ninth and tenth days.
On the eleventh day, she discovered a note under a plate of shortbread.
Isla found Tavishwaiting at the old bridge—the one that crossed over the River Southcairn and led to Cairnfell—just as his note had said he would.
Night had fallen hours ago, but Isla would know the cant of her beloved’s head anywhere.
Just that single glimpse—
How she had missed him! Her husband! Her love!
Isla raced down the path, the tears on her cheeks from both happiness and relief. The handle of her valise sat heavy in her fist, biting into the wedding ring on her finger.
His note had been terse and simple, written in their cipher:
Meet me at the old bridge on Wednesday at midnight.
Isla hadn’t known, at first, how she would accomplish the deed.
But just the day before, Gray had called off the footman guarding her door. And in a show of obedience, Isla began eating again yesterday and today.
Thankfully, the lack of a guard meant she could slip out of the house to meet Tavish. To run away with him.
She hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt as she packed her bag with all the items she could manage. Her possessions were meager, but fribbles likepretty frocks and bonnet ribbons mattered little when the entirety of her future trembled in the balance.
Tavish stood tall beside Goliath, caped greatcoat falling to his ankles, saddle bags bulging.
Somehow, though it had not even been two weeks, he looked older. His demeanor more upright and rigid. His eyes more seeing.
What had happened? What terror had Gray enacted?
“Tavish!” she whispered on a hoarse voice, dropping her bag and sprinting to him.
He lifted her into his arms, spinning around. She grabbed his head and kissed him, tasting her tears on his lips.
At last!
He had found a way!
