Page 72 of Wynter's Bite

Bethany looked down at her lap. If it weren’t for her, Justus wouldn’t be a rogue.

Justus tilted her chin up and kissed her. “I know this must sound ludicrous, but before I found Bethany, I was living only half a life. I enjoyed doing my duty for my lord and we were the best of friends, but something was missing. Even with the peril and hardships we face, the world has more color and I feel like I have a reason to live.”

“It does sound ludicrous,” Rhys said. “All the same, I understand. But I have my family to think of.” His sober expression dissolved into a mirthful smile. “Besides, if I saddled myself to a woman, I could no longer steal kisses from the women I divest of jewels.”

They all laughed, and Bethany relaxed against Justus, feeling more at ease than she had since their wedding night. She even managed to eat some bread and cheese from their bag.

“Thank you for helping us,” Justus said as he built up the fire.

“No thanks needed. It is past time I did a good deed, though it will do little to blot out my many sins.” Rhys tossed Justus a few coins. “You may stay here for as long as you like. I am off tomorrow night.”

“To where?” Bethany and Justus both asked.

“Blackpool. Quite the opposite of where you two are bound.”

Justus’s eyes widened at the distance. “Your family farm is in Blackpool? What is the lord like?”

“A heartless bastard.” Rhys’s upper lip curled in scorn. “He holds the loan on the farm.”

“Good God!” Justus gaped at him. “And you said we were enduring difficulties!”

Rhys nodded grimly. “I imagine he’ll catch me one of these days and take my head. I only hope my family is free of him by then.” He stretched and crossed the cave to a bedroll in the corner. “Anyway, it is nearly dawn and I need my rest if this blasted arm is to heal by nightfall.”

As if his words held magic, Bethany’s lids drooped and she yawned.

Justus laid down on their makeshift bed and she cuddled against him gratefully. As he stroked her hair, she peered at the fire and said a silent prayer for Rhys to save his family and avoid the Lord of Blackpool’s clutches, and for her and Justus to be welcomed in Cornwall. And most of all, she prayed her opium sickness would go away.

Without Rhys’s intervention, who knew what would have happened?

As sleep sucked her into its dark void, one final thought tinged her dreams with worry.

What would the Lord of Cornwall do if he knew she was not only an escapee from a lunatic asylum, but also an opium addict?

Chapter Twenty-eight

When Justus awoke, he studied Bethany. She lay still and relaxed, sleeping deeper than she had in days. Even as relief flooded him at her lack of a tremor, self-recrimination rained upon him that he hadn’t realized the cause of her shivers. He’d assumed she’d either been cold, or was overwhelmed with the sensation of being out in the world again. It had not occurred to him that she’d suffer withdrawals from being drugged.

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