Page 115 of The Dravenhearst Brides
Xander returned to the room with a basin. He froze in his tracks, hearing the word.
“Ifso…” she ventured, emphasizing the word, “could it kill him? Belladonna?” She remembered what Evangeline had said.
A high dose is deadly.
“It could,” Dr. Smalls admitted. “Hallucinogenic in small doses, fatal in high.”
Margot sank onto the bed beside Merrick. “Purge his stomach,” she commanded, gripping her husband’s clammy, limp hand. “Please. Do it now.”
“He’ll rest awhile,” Dr. Smalls said, preparing to leave. “I’ll return in the morning to check on him. I recommend you get some sleep as well. You’ve overextended yourself tonight, which is unfavorable, given your condition.”
“Thank you, I will.” Margot sighed, exhaustion creeping in. “Xander will see you out.” She dismissed the physician with a wave of her hand.
“Reckon we shouldn’t leave him alone,” Julian said as the two men departed. “Should I stay?” He loitered in the doorway, uncertain, but Margot couldn’t hold his eyes. All she could think when she looked at him was,Ruth’s son, Ruth’s son.Over and over.
She didn’t blame herself for missing the connection. As fair and elegant as Ruth was, Julian was dark and flippant. Even now, he slouched rather than stood tall, taking up as little space as possible.
“No, I’ll stay,” Margot answered, already curling up in the bed beside Merrick.
“Are you certain? Dr. Smalls said—”
“I can rest here just as easily as in my own bedroom,” she snapped. “With my husband.”
“I’ll be downstairs then. I’ll post up on a couch in case you need me.”
“There are plenty of bedrooms,” Margot murmured, her voice heavy with sleep.
Merrick’s skin was warm. His heart thundered in his chest. It sounded like the pounding hooves of a racehorse, barreling down the final stretch toward home.
Julian muttered a reply, but she didn’t hear it. She simply drifted away.
In her dreams, Margot ran. She ran and ran and ran through the dark manor. Chasing the tail of a bridal veil. Floating down hallways, whipping around corners, always just out of reach, always just—
Her sleep was torn apart by a scream. Toe-curling, hair raising. Ripping her out of the land of the dead, back to the world of the living.
Merrick.
He sat bolt upright in bed, eyes open. His pupils were still eerily black. Soulless.
“Get her down,” he said, pointing to an empty corner of the room.
“What?”
“Get her down!” His voice turned shrill.
“Merrick, what’s wrong?”
“Get her! Get her!” His shouts rang through the room. He tried to rise.
Margot braced herself against him, holding him down. His body was uncoordinated and soporific, hardly at full strength.
“She can’t breathe. Get her down!”
Margot followed the path of his eyes, seeing nothing but an empty corner.
Hallucinations,Dr. Smalls had warned.
Margot licked her lips in fear. “There’s no one there.”
