Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Chapter 639

Clara stayed in bed until seven, barely noticing when someone knocked softly on her door. One of the housekeepers called out, "Would you like something to eat, Ms. Clara?"

She just felt irritated, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

This time, the housekeeper sounded more anxious. “Ma'am, please, you should have a little something. Sir asked us to take care of you before he left. We made some soup-you don't look well, and a bowl of soup might help."

With a sigh, Clara finally dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection; she looked awful-her skin was pale, dark circles shadowed her eyes. No wonder Dylan had told her to rest.

She splashed her face with cold water, but it did nothing to ease the restless frustration buzzing inside her.

Steeling herself, she opened her bedroom door.

The housekeeper's eyes immediately brightened with relief.

Clara realized she couldn't keep running herself into the ground. She needed to

take care of herself first-everything else could wait.

She went downstairs and managed a few bites. Heading back upstairs, she

paused outside the guest room, but a man in a black suit stepped out and silently blocked her way, gesturing that she was expected to sleep in the master

bedroom.

Clara's face darkened. Without a word, she turned and went into the master bedroom, closing the door behind her with a loud slam.

All she could hear was Z's

you—if you ever leave me,

chest ached, the pain so sharp she could hardly breathe. She curled into herself, hoping the feeling would pass, but the heaviness just lingered,

she got up for a glass of cold water and

failed attempt. Now, all she could

*

was up at dawn. Guided by the monks,

to the minute-each step performed with

minutes, there was still no sign of Dylan. She leaned over to the person beside her and whispered, "Did Dylan oversleep?

quietly, "Sir left the

face tightened. She'd brought him all this way for these very prayers. He'd gone to bed early last night, and she'd hoped he

Leaving like that-so rude.

took a slow, steady breath, unwilling to let her irritation spoil the sacred moment. She took Tara's hand and led

of peach trees, Mrs. Ferguson noticed the top branches of several

frowned, a bit disappointed. "Who did

pick the

there's a section ahead where picking isn't allowed-the flowers there are

"Is it for good fortune? Like, happily ever after or

monk grinned

her, Tara darted down the path. "Mrs. Ferguson, you go ahead. I'll catch up in

but smiled despite herself. "You're such a handful... Fine,

already lost

prayers, Tara came running