Free To Rescue a Rogue by Jo Beverley Page A

onto Dare’s thigh and he winced before turning and bowing, hands together. What was his Taoist master doing here, sliding in as silently as mist? His time was the night.
    Ruyuan had been found by Nicholas Delaney, the person who seemed to understand his fight better than any. Dare wondered if somewhere in his travels Nicholas had tried opium and had to escape its sweet coils.
    Tall and quiet, Yuan had brought many skills, including massage to soothe a tortured body and herbs to alleviate the worst symptoms. Above all he had brought the precise and physical art that burned through sleepless nights and acted like a massage for Dare’s screaming mind. He did not approve of quarterstaff work, but didn’t forbid it.
    â€œYou are distressed.” Ruyuan spoke softly as always, his speech heavily accented but clear.
    â€œToo many unusual events,” Dare replied.
    â€œYou came to London for unusual events, I think?”
    â€œSome are unusual enough to be shocking.”
    Like his reaction to Mara St. Bride.
    â€œSuch things will make the path harder, but it is through difficulties that we grow strong.”
    â€œThen I should be a damn Hercules.”
    Ruyuan smiled. “But you are, Darius. You are worthy of your name.”
    Dare had known he was named for a Persian king; he had not known until Yuan told him that the name meant “strong.”
    â€œI’m not strong. I tremble for the beast.”
    â€œBut are not huddled, whimpering. Or fighting Salter to seize it.”
    Dare laughed shortly. “I wouldn’t win.”
    â€œI believe you could. Now you are your only guard.”
    Dare inhaled. “You terrify me.”
    Yuan smiled again, as if to say, What else am I here for?
    â€œIt is past your time,” Yuan reproved.
    The words sang through Dare as if he were a harp string plucked. Past time for his midday dose, and his regimen said he must take it, just as he must not take it early.
    â€œPerhaps I can do without.” All except a tiny fragment of strength screamed in rejection.
    â€œThat is not the way.”
    â€œWhy not? Isn’t that the golden chalice? The time when I can refuse the beast and survive? Why not now? Today?”
    â€œImpetuous rejection is as weak as impetuous submission.”
    Yuan bowed again and left, his smooth, silent tread masking amazing physical power.
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Dare complained, restlessly jiggling the staff. “Why do I have to follow the path? The aim is to free me from opium, but when I say I want to do it, he says I’m not allowed. What sense is there is that? Why can’t I? If I want to. I’m a lord. I can do what I want….”
    Salter’s hand on his arm stopped him. Damn, he was babbling. Much longer and he’d be spewing every thought in his head as his brain jangled along with the rest of him.
    â€œCome and eat, sir.” Salter took the staff and guided him back to his bedroom, where cold ham, bread, and fruit was laid out.
    Dare didn’t want it. Sometimes he had cravings for food, but never for normal foods like these. He’d grab pickles, and he had once eaten three lemons, skin and all. Mostly he had no appetite at all.
    This, too, was part of the discipline, however, the rules Ruyuan had brought, that were bringing him toward his goal. He must take his dose of opium exactly on time. He must eat before taking it to dull its immediate effect and slow its absorption. He must eat everything set before him.
    He forced himself through the contents of his plate, then contemplated the glass of dark liquid Salter placed before him. He tried to tell himself he was reaching for it because that was the rule. But if Salter tried to snatch it back he might kill him.
    Damn. His hand was shaking.
    The´re`se Bellaire’s poisonous heritage, he thought, picking up the glass. The thing he loathed above all but could not live without. He downed the bitter liquid. For a