Chapter Eighteen
Hunger woke her at two in the morning, despite the huge supper she’d eaten. Fortunately, Charlotte had left a bowl of fruit and a dish of shelled nuts on the bedside table.
Merry ate a pear, two handfuls of nuts, and a bunch of grapes, snuggled drowsily beneath the covers again—and thought of Barnaby. Had he yet woken?
Her weariness vanished. Anxiety took its place.
Merry flung back the covers, took up her chamberstick, hurried from her room and down the dark corridor.
Sir Barnaby’s door opened on silent hinges. His bedchamber was dark. Marcus was no longer on vigil.
Merry trod softly across to the big four-posted bed.
Candlelight showed her Barnaby asleep, curled up on his side, his face utterly relaxed. A tray sat on his bedside table. She saw a bunch of grapes li
