Free Captive of Sin by Anna Campbell Page A

girl’s face into a pale blur. His throat was so tight, he choked. He sucked a shuddering breath into lungs starved of air.
    She said something. He missed everything apart from the end. “…get Tulliver.”
    He forced himself to concentrate, pressed words to stiff lips until sound emerged. He didn’t want Tulliver. Tulliver would drug him, trapping the monsters inside his head.
    “No.”
    He sucked another breath through grinding teeth, even as thick darkness closed in.
    “No Tulliver.” Then what he prayed wasn’t a lie. “This will pass.”
    Words worn threadbare with repetition.
    Perhaps one day the nightmare wouldn’t pass. The constant terror of that prospect made fear congeal like greasy soup in his belly.
    I’m not insane. I’m not insane.
    His gloved hands clawed at the worn leather seat as he battled for clarity. For control. For calm.
    The demons were too strong. Horrible, shrieking phantom images rioted in his mind.
    I’m in England.
    I’m safe.
    I’m free.
    The litany failed. What freedom could he claim when grisly specters haunted his every moment?
    “Please let me get Tulliver.” The girl swam toward him through murky water. At the last minute, he realized she meant to rap on the roof and stop the coach.
    “No!” The word emerged as a croak.
    Speech was so damned difficult. He wished he was alone. But what couldn’t be cured must be endured. The old aphorism, his nurse’s favorite, helped him to cobble together an explanation. Even if every word cut his throat like broken glass.
    “Tulliver will give…laudanum.”
    Opium hurled him into whirling oblivion. The dreams the drug brought threatened to send him mad indeed.
    She frowned. “If it eases you…”
    “No!” he all but screamed.
    The girl recoiled. Good God, let him muster some control. He snatched another breath and fought to calm the frantic gallop of his heart.
    She stared at him out of great, wide, terrified eyes. He loathed it when his personal…idiosyncrasies inconvenienced others.
    Vaguely he told himself to assure her she shouldn’t be afraid. He wasn’t dangerous in this state. Unless she touchedhim. Thank Christ, after that first tentative attempt to offer comfort, she’d kept her hands to herself.
    What had he meant to say? Thought was elusive and fleeting as wisps of mist.
    That’s right. Tulliver. He set his jaw and spoke in a low, harsh tone. Quickly, before will failed.
    “There’s nothing anyone can do. The best…” He stopped to fight back the caterwauling devils. “Please ignore me.”
    “That won’t help.” Even through swirling chaos, he heard the firmness in her voice.
    Every joint tensed into quivering spasms. His stomach heaved like a stormy sea. Waves of hot and cold washed over him. He lashed his arms around his chest, but nothing eased the agonizing cramps. This attack was one of the crippling ones.
    On his own, he’d bear the pain until it passed. But he couldn’t distress the chit by vomiting all over her.
    He’d have to accept opium’s poisonous boon.
    “Can you stop the coach?” he managed to force through chattering teeth.
    Mercifully, she didn’t question his change of mind. She banged hard on the roof. The carriage lurched to a halt. The abrupt movement set off jangling cymbals in his head, dimmed his sight.
    The door wrenched open. Voices were a buzz in his ears. Tulliver passed in a tin basin.
    “It’s a bad one this time, lad,” he said impassively, as Gideon’s shaking hands curled around the dish.
    Gideon’s gut tangled into knots. He was seconds from losing control. He managed to snarl, “Take the girl.”
    His world turned to violent black as he began to retch. He was lost on a hideous sea, lit by brief crimson flashes where pain flared into agony.
    He had no idea how long it was before awareness returned. Opening bleary eyes, he realized someone else’s hands held the basin steady.
    His mouth tasted foul. A hundred mallets battered his skull. Just the simple act of