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“Nasty bitch,” Middleton muttered. “Why is it so dark in here?”
“Oh God,” she whispered. She held up two fingers in front of him. “How many fingers am I holding up, Middleton?”
“Too blasted dark to tell,” he replied.
“What is wrong?” Nelson asked.
“He’s lost his sight.” Seeing Nelson’s shocked face, she continued, “It should come back as the poison leaves his body.”
“Now what?”
“We wait.” She looked up at the older man’s face. “Go to bed. There is nothing else you can do for him now. I will stay with him.”
“Can I trust you?” he asked seriously.
She tilted her head and looked at him. “Would I be trying to save the man I poisoned?”
“I suppose not.”
“Nelson, what happened to Mary? I asked that she assist me.”
“I am not certain. I will check on her.” He moved to the door. “If there is any change, you will let me know immediately.”
“Of course.”
It was a long night spent in worry for her. Middleton worked his way through many of the stages of belladonna poisoning, from the blindness to the retching. Finally near dawn, he fell asleep. But when she wasn’t busy, the memories of the last case she saw of this poisoning haunted her. Angry with herself, she pushed away the scarring memories and gave her attention to Middleton.
His lips looked less cracked than before, but his fever was still raging. She prayed the charcoal was working. In another hour, she would give him more. She pulled her bag up from the floor and searched inside until she found her vial of belladonna. In small doses, it was good for some female issues, along with other assorted complaints. But it was never to be used in higher doses because it was so poisonous. Picking up her near-empty vial, she knew the poison had come from her bag.
A tear fell down her cheek. If she hadn’t run from her position at the estate, this might not have happened. It was her fault and if he died like that poor child, she would never be able pick up that bag of herbs again.
“Yes,” Middleton started to mumble. “Yes, please.” He writhed in the bed as if his fever was getting worse.
Tia felt his forehead as best she could while he tossed back and forth, but he felt no different from before. He might be hallucinating still.
“No,” he said this time. “Not right. God, but I want her.”
Tia wondered whom he was imagining in his dreams. Penelope, perhaps? Although Tia had no idea what he saw in that bitch.
“Yes, put your hand on my cock.” His own hand reached between his legs, stroking his thickening member.
Tia stared, mesmerized by what she saw, and briefly thought she should look away . . . but couldn’t.
“Your mouth,” he muttered. “That’s it.”
Her eyes widened as his hand continued to stroke his hard cock. A part of her wanted to slide the light sheet down below his hips. She refused to do such a thing to a man hallucinating about another woman.
“Yes, just like that,” he groaned. Suddenly his back arched and his hand stilled. “Oh God, Tia,” he whispered. “So good.”
She jumped back out of her chair, covered her mouth with her hand, and stared at the man who had been having an erotic dream about her.
Her!
Braden slowly opened his eyes and then shut them quickly. The light from the candle burned like the sun beaming into the room in July. What time was it? And why did he feel like he’d overindulged the night before? He tried to think back to last night, but nothing came to him.
Something didn’t feel right. His head ached and he felt as if he’d been run over by a carriage. His muscles felt weakened and tired. He forced his eyes to open slightly again. This time wasn’t as bad as the first, but it still pained him. Everything seemed overly bright.
There was an empty chair moved nearer the bed, as if someone had been watching him sleep. How odd. A door creaked open and Tia walked over to the nightstand and placed a glass of water down. Odd, he never remembered that door ma
