I hurried out of the sewing room, making sure the lock clicked softly behind me.

I walked down the stairs, trying to control the trembling in my legs.

By the time I reached the bottom step, the front door opened.

Jared stood in the entryway, shaking the rain from his umbrella.

He looked exactly as he had on the video, handsome, composed, and entirely in control.

“Shelby,” he said, his eyes scanning my face.

“You’re downstairs. I thought you were resting.”

“I wanted some tea,” I said.

My voice sounded hollow, but I forced a small, tired smile.

He set his leather briefcase on the console table and walked toward me.

He reached out, his hand warm and dry as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead.

I had to force myself not to flinch from his touch.

“You look pale,” he said, his brow furrowing with practiced concern.

“Did you take the evening dose Dr. Haynes left for you?”

“I took it,” I lied.

“It makes me so sleepy.”

“It is for your own good, darling,” he said, kissing my temple.