Chapter 48
Cass ran her tongue over her upper lip. Dry as bone. Her lower one too. As for her mouth itself? A desert probably had more moisture. Of course she knew about deserts because she'd read about them in that book. The one she'd also read about Mysore in that had seemed so helpful at the time. She blinked an eye open. She knew about bottles too. What she didn't know was what so many of them were doing on her bedside cabinet right now.
She jerked upright. She was seeing this. It wasn't a dream. These things were real. What they contained too. She gasped a breath. Before she could spring from the bed, spring from this house, Devorlane Hawley caught her wrist.
"No. Wait."
She dug her nails in to the back of his hand. Perhaps she'd been a fool in lots of ways, but on her mother's grave this would not be one of them. On her own grave neither. She hadn't survived all she'd survived for this.
"I don't think so, Lord Hawley. Now, get your soddin' hands-"