Chasing Shadows (12 page)

Pushing his left sleeve further up his arm, he gave her the faintest, heart-stopping smile of pleasure she’d ever seen him wear. It only grew as he walked toward her.

“Hi,” she whispered, forgetting her apprehension over Robert’s presence.

Will’s smile widened, revealing straight teeth she rarely saw. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

They heard someone clear their throat and glanced over at Robert as he stood, dusting off his pants. He smiled at the two of them. “Why don’t I go see if Roland is open today, boss? I need to stretch my legs a little and get out of this heat.”

Will nodded. “Thank you, Robert.” The two seemed to share a look before the blond man edged past them and out into the cold. When Sarah turned back to him, she found Will’s gaze on the cloak she wore. His eyes found hers again, that soft smile in place.

She quickly glanced down at the fabric, feeling a little awkward with his intense gaze trained on her. He never seemed to realize when he was staring, or maybe it just didn’t matter to him. “Um, yeah. It was really cold last night, so it was nice to have. Thanks.” Her gaze flickered up to meet his then lowered to the floor.    

Sarah racked her brain for her purpose here but was having difficulty with him staring at her like that. She knew exactly how to react to his anger—in kind—but it always threw her off-balance when he let his defenses down long enough for her to really see what he was thinking. And right now his face told her that last night had meant as much to him as it had to her. She hadn’t had enough experience to know how to react to the affection she saw in his eyes and tried to remember why she had come. There
had
been a reason, and when she remembered, the feelings of blissful romance deflated.

Will’s smile faded at her expression. “Is something wrong? You look upset.”

Sometimes it was annoying that he could be so perceptive. “Oh. I had a little run-in with a horseman on my way over. I’m still a little shaken up.” She said it casually, waving her hand in the air to dismiss his worry. It had been the perfect opportunity to broach the subject of her conversation with Jade, but when it came down to it, she couldn’t do it. 

His dark eyes immediately filled with concern. He touched her arm lightly, and his gaze skirted quickly over her body, as though an injury might materialize. “An accident? Were you hurt?”

Sarah’s mouth turned up at the corners at the worry on his face. This was the Will she knew,
her
Will—strong, dependable, caring. Not the one Jade’s lies had made her imagine. Any remaining anxiety faded from her body.

“I’m fine,” she answered. Will nodded slowly and let his hand fall back to his side. She could tell that he wanted to say more on the subject, so she was grateful when he remained silent. She always appreciated his concern, but it made her feel raw and fragile, and she was used to taking care of herself. Granted, she’d gotten stuck in several scrapes that he’d rescued her from, but she didn’t mind playing the part of the fallen damsel so much as she disliked feeling like a completely helpless fool.

“So,” Will said a little too brightly, obviously sensing her need for independence. “Did you have business around town, or are you just here to see me?”

Sarah grinned at his teasing tone. “Actually, I was in the neighborhood, but,” she added, almost begrudgingly, “I don’t necessarily
mind
seeing you.”

This received a chuckle. It was good to see him in such high spirits. “I feel quite special now. What was your business in town?”

One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I had to run an errand, and I met Dagwood, the produce man, and his son Richard. He’s the one who saved me from becoming a pancake on the road.” She said the words lightly, but still caught the faint wince that crossed Will’s features. She tried to distract him quickly. “I also saw a guard in the square today.”

He raised his brows at that. “A most unusual occurrence.”

Sarah laughed. “Well, it wasn’t that strange, but I was following a hunch, okay?”

He folded his arms across his broad chest, looking completely relaxed as he leaned a hip against the table. “All right. What did you find?”

She suddenly realized what she had said and hesitated to go on. Will had told her to stay away from Jade, and the neighborhood entirely. But she couldn’t very well expect him to be honest with her when she wasn’t willing to tell him everything. “I, um, I sort of followed him to Jade’s house.”

Will’s expression remained the same. Actually, it looked frozen in place as he stared at her. Then his mirth ebbed slowly. “What were you doing down there? I thought we talked about this.”

She told herself to remain calm and explain the situation to him. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I was just following the guy, and I didn’t think there was time to get you, and it was daylight,” she added weakly, then sighed. “I was being foolish, I know. And if it makes you feel any better, I totally regret it after talking with Jade. But I don’t plan to—”

“You
spoke
to Jade?” He actually looked startled. “What did she say?”

Sarah studied his face for a moment, sensing what she understood to be worry. “She was just trying to get me riled. It was stupid—forget about it.”

Will wrapped his fingers around her arm and bent down so he was at eye level with her. His face looked angry, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “Did she say something to insult you?”

She shook her head, though Jade’s words had been very offensive at the time. “I told you, it doesn’t matter. She was being petty.” His eyes stayed locked on her, waiting, and she rolled her eyes at the absurdity of her conversation with the older woman, almost too embarrassed to voice it aloud. “She was just jealous because she saw us together the other day. And she said”—Sarah looked at the ground, feeling a little ridiculous—“she said that you and her,
you know
—that I drove you into her arms, which is totally a lie,” she added quickly, daring to look up, hoping for a chuckle to ease the tension she felt building between them. But his expression registered surprise and then hurt—surprised that she had found out and hurt that Jade had betrayed his trust? Sarah swallowed.

“It
is
a lie. Isn’t it?” He straightened and averted his gaze, shaking his head at the ground. The movement was so slight that Sarah almost didn’t catch it, but when she did, her apprehension grew.

“I can’t believe she would . . .” Will’s voice faded, and he shook his head again. When he looked at her, she was sure he saw the growing doubt on her face, or at least heard the tremor in her voice.

“She
was
lying, right?” A knot of dread was coiling tightly in her stomach, making it hard to breathe. Her fingers tightened around the basket handle, and she was sure her knuckles had turned white.

He pulled back a fraction of an inch, as if slapped. He remained silent and folded his arms, jaw tight as he stared back at her. Why didn’t he just tell her Jade was lying and relieve her doubts? She waited for him to deny it—she
prayed
he would deny it.

But he just stared at her, expressionless, though his brows drew together ever so slightly. The sight broke Sarah’s heart almost as much as the truth beneath his emotionless façade: He couldn’t deny it because he had promised her long ago that he would never lie to her, so apparently he was deciding not to say anything at all.

Sarah backed up a step. The action wasn’t intentional, but the realization was too staggering to stand still, and she saw a brief flicker of hurt cross Will’s brow.

“Oh, God,” Sarah whispered. “You didn’t. . . .” The words hung in the air between them, and her eyes filled with unwanted tears as the silence lengthened. This seemed to break Will’s stony façade, and his eyes registered alarm at her tears.

“Oh, Sarah,” he said, looking distressed as she hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. He reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry. Please don’t—”

Something akin to a strangled whimper was released through Sarah’s closed lips as she jerked away from his fingers. “No,” she said quietly, though it sounded more like a groan of denial in her throat. “Just don’t.” She choked back her tears. She didn’t want him to see her like this, like some pathetically broken creature, and she couldn’t stand to look at the distress and pain in those same eyes she had drowned in so many times before.

She shook her head, though the action felt half-hearted. “No, I can’t believe you would . . .” She couldn’t even say it. A part of her still wanted desperately to cling to the illusion of the perfect romance with the perfect man, however brief it may have been.

Feeling sick, her eyes narrowed accusingly to cover her welling hurt, though some of the effect was lost with the tears blurring her vision. “I told her you weren’t that guy—that you would never use a woman that way. I stood up for you. God help me, I had
faith
in you.” She tried to cover her distress by retreating into defensive anger, but the anguish and betrayal she felt were obvious in her broken words.

Will’s expression had become increasingly stricken with each word she spoke, and he quickly closed the small distance between them, holding her arms with hands as gentle as his eyes. She so desperately wanted him to deny it, so she didn’t shrink back at his touch but stared up at him expectantly. She was sure her face mirrored the torment brewing in his as she gripped the basket like a lifeline between them. “Sarah, you have to believe me when I say I am truly sorry. There’s no excuse for my actions. I never should have—”

His apology was the final straw. Sarah wrenched free of his grasp, ignoring his wounded look. She bit her lip to keep from crying and fled for the exit to the sound of Will calling her name. Her vision blurred, and she plowed straight into Robert as he came in through the door.

“Hold up, now,” he said as he steadied her. He pulled back and all amusement drained from his face when he saw the tears threatening to spill over. “What happened?“

She could hear Will’s feet pounding against the floor just behind her as he called her name again, sounding as close to panic as she had ever heard him. She pushed against Robert weakly, feeling all the fight leave her body. He released her, though his gaze moved between her and Will as he ran up behind them. She took off down the street, knowing if she looked back and saw the truth in his face, her heart would break all over again.

—

Will stopped in the doorway to his shop and called her name one last time as he watched her disappear into the crowd, catching brief glimpses of her every now and then as she dodged carts and passerby as she fled. From him.

She never looked back—not once.

Will swallowed hard and rubbed the stubble on his jaw in frustration. It started to mingle with the fresh anguish coursing through his veins, making his blood feel thick and heavy. He felt as though his veins were moving leaden molasses, weighing him down and pressing him into the earth.

What had he done? Why had he remained silent? He could have spoken—a lie, the truth, fabricated a story to alleviate her doubts; it didn’t matter. But he should have said
something
. Her eyes told him that the words weren’t important, and she had only needed for him to tell her it was untrue and that he was there for her. It would have been so simple to ease her mind, but his pride had kept him from speaking, and his silence had only confirmed her doubts.

“What happened?” He turned to look at his worker, whose eyes were wide.

Will shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. This was his worst fear come true, why he had told Sarah to stay away from Jade and her jealous moods. He had watched her beautiful, tan face change slowly as her doubt grew. The idea of a tryst between himself and Jade had seemed so absurd to her at first, and then he had watched the fear and hurt cloud her features and knew he had made a mistake in not speaking up. He had lost her trust, perhaps forever.  

“You okay, boss?” Robert asked hesitantly. He looked worried.

Will gave the slightest of nods, though he knew it was too weak to appear genuine. “I’m fine,” he murmured. But he wasn’t—not in the least. He had seen how her eyes clouded with distrust when he remained silent. Oh, God, her eyes! He squeezed his own closed against the image of her face, though the action didn’t stave off the realization that he had just broken the heart of the only woman he would ever love.

~Chapter 14~

Sarah moved through the square with her eyes downcast; she didn’t want anyone to ask why her face was a mixture of anger and sadness, didn’t want to stop for even a second as she hastened toward the castle. Her eyes stared, unseeing, at the street beneath her as her frozen, slipper-clad feet slipped quickly over the stones.

There was no hurry, really—she knew Edith wouldn’t need her back from her errand for a while longer—but she moved hastily through the crowds, anyway, trying to escape the sting of fresh betrayal. Maybe if she could just put enough distance between her and the shop and Will’s silence that had spoken volumes, then this whole thing would disappear, and she wouldn’t have to question his loyalty.

She bumped into several people while she wasn’t looking, and she barely heard their gasps or shouted curses and reprimands. The fact that she was being constantly jostled by passerby and bumping into people herself was nearly lost on her. Actually, it was almost comforting for her to feel as though, for a moment, she could get lost in the sea of people coming and going, living their lives like always.

A cold blast of air broke through a gap in the throng and hit her full in the face. Sarah sucked in a breath at the startlingly cold, wet air, grateful for the way it cleared the numbness spreading over her mind.

Her sister Lilly said that for someone with so much wild imagination, she could be far too logical sometimes. But Sarah was good with logic; it was real and comforting and
logical
. It made sense of things that seemed scary, turning the monsters into mice and disproving the impossible. When she thought logically, things became manageable, something she could deal with. And right now it reminded her that whatever had happened between Will and . . . Jade—Sarah nearly choked on the name—occurred when she wasn’t around. She hadn’t even been in the same century!

On top of that, it wasn’t like she had the right to feel that Will had been disloyal, because they had never been a couple, never defined what they were. Sarah cringed when she realized how true that was. Sure, he had held her hand and shot her that little boy smile and stared into her heart with those soulful eyes. But there were no promises made, no verbalization of anyone’s feelings, no kisses shared. Even as she willed herself to be realistic about it, Sarah couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment, though she knew there was no one to blame but herself for placing Will on such a high pedestal: It only made it a longer drop to the ground.

Her eyes burned guiltily, and she clenched her fists, sniffing back her tears. She had no right to cry.

A moment before, she had been grateful for the large number of people surrounding her, enveloping and hiding her. But now the growing throng seemed to press closer as the height of the midday haggling drew near, suffocating her. The air around her suddenly seemed stifling with the mass of bodies, and each breath was harder to take than the last. She had to get out of here.

Wringing her hands together to warm them, Sarah looked around her, searching frantically for an escape before she realized that castle gate was so close. Rudely forcing her way past a woman, she kept her eyes on the spires as she moved, doing her best to push aside her nagging thoughts in her desperation for air. When she was able to move without running into anyone, she broke out into a jog, never having thought she would be so relieved to see the castle gate looming above her, or the servants’ entrance, which suddenly seemed very safe and welcoming.

Sarah didn’t pause at the door, but thrust it open, barely breaking stride. She grimaced at the noise her entrance made, but no one rushed out to the hall to see what the commotion was about. Being more careful this time, she slowly closed the door, hearing the satisfactory
click
of the latch.

She leaned her back against the door, still gripping the handle behind her, taking a moment to catch her breath. The heat coming from the kitchen fires brushed against her face, though the frigid temperature outside seeped through the door and worked its way through her layers of fabric, numbing her back. That was how she felt: warm on the outside but cold and numb where it counted.

She listened to the sounds around her, willing her mind to focus on them as her pulse slowed. The kitchen was abuzz with activity as the cooks prepared for the evening meal—a wooden plate clattered to the ground and skittered across the floor; a male voice loudly reprimanded the mishap and shouted out an order that Sarah didn’t quite catch; large knives repeatedly came down hard and fast on the makings of supper.

Sarah concentrated on the sounds coming from within and felt a little more composed after a few minutes. She knew she wouldn’t have the entryway to herself for much longer, and, not wanting to be caught idle, she took a deep breath and moved toward the back stairwell. Like in the street, she kept her eyes trained on her shoes as they shuffled forward, disappearing and reappearing beneath her torn hem. She frowned, knowing she would have to ask Edith to help her mend it later.

She sidestepped just in time to avoid colliding with the pail of water set in front of the bottom step and glanced up sharply. The same young maids she had seen just before she left the castle were on their hands and knees in the foyer, scrubbing the stones that had been beneath the rug they’d rolled and set aside. Sarah had thought she was alone, but they had obviously noticed her as they paused in their tasks and stared openly with their hands frozen, mid-scrub, on their brushes.

Sarah was acutely aware of the way their looks of practiced detachment turned into expressions of animosity when they saw her. Their eyes narrowed in unison, and Sarah was surprised at the cold gazes she received—one looked like she was hoping to set Sarah on fire with her stare. She glanced over her shoulder to see if she had left a trail behind her, but most of the snow on her shoes had come off on the rug in the entryway.

Unable to help the question in her eyes as she shot them one last look, she quickly ducked her head and jogged up the stairs, forgoing any ladylike grace as she took the steps two at a time. She was sure she could feel the maids’ eyes following her and reflexively tightened her grip on the basket as she raced up the staircase toward her room, the only place left where she could be truly alone and away from prying eyes. Right now the dingy, cramped quarters waiting at the end of the hall seemed like a haven to Sarah, and she couldn’t get there fast enough.

Ignoring the few servants working at the top of the stairs, Sarah turned and went in the direction of the servants’ quarters, focusing her eyes on the end of the hall. Her chest rose and fell quickly, her flight up the stairs having taxed her, though she knew that part of her erratic breathing was from trying to suppress the tumultuous emotions that raged just below the surface.

The walls became progressively dingy the further she went, and the absence of wall hangings and decorations was almost a welcome sight. Her breath quickened when she saw her door. Throwing it wide open, a gasp stuck in her throat.

The room was completely empty. What few possessions she’d had before were now gone, and the bed had been stripped down to the straw mattress. The nub of a candle had been removed from the table beside the bed, and even the extra threadbare blankets she had neatly folded at the end of the mattress were gone.

Sarah glanced down the hallway, wondering if perhaps she had broken into the wrong room, but she was sure this was—
had been
—her room only just this morning.

She dropped to her knees before the small trunk that had contained a spare servant’s dress and the clothes she had worn to the castle, plunking the basket down beside her. An apple rolled across the floor unnoticed as she ripped the lid open, her eyes frantically searching the empty chest for some sort of explanation—even her sneakers were gone! She felt suddenly deflated, realizing that someone had either stolen everything, or this was no longer her room, no longer a place of solace to scream into her pillow.

“There you are!” Sarah jerked her head around and caught Edith’s gaze as she stood in the doorway. The older woman looked greatly relieved to see her, then her expression turned apologetic as she took in Sarah’s confusion. “I was hoping to catch you before you came in so I might explain.”

Sarah’s shoulders sagged and she released the lid, which banged loudly against the body of the trunk, letting her hands fall limply into her lap. She gave Edith an imploring look. “So I’m fired. You’re kicking me out—just like that?”

Edith’s brows drew together. “Heavens, no!” She came into the room and pulled Sarah to her feet, snatching the basket and the forgotten fruit from the floor. Wrapping her fingers around Sarah’s arm, she guided her down the hallway. Her voice softened, the same way it did when someone was about to deliver bad news. “Dear, your room has been moved.”

“Huh?” Sarah asked, not comprehending.

Edith leaned in as she maneuvered them around a buxom maid dusting the stair railing. She eyed the servant warily and lowered her voice. “It was requested that we move you to more comfortable lodgings.”

A laugh of sweet relief bubbled its way past Sarah’s lips. “Is that all? I thought I had been canned.”

Edith looked startled at her reaction. “We would never just turn you out like that. You’re invaluable to me, Sarah, what with the chaos of preparing for the ball.” Her expression turned stern. “They would be hard-pressed to take such an important staff member from me, especially one who actually has an ear for instruction.” Edith patted her arm reassuringly. “No, put such thoughts from your mind. You’re safe with me.”

For the first time since arriving back at the castle, Sarah felt herself smiling. She would have to be careful to follow orders now to keep on her mentor’s good graces.

They passed another stone staircase, this one blanketed with a deep maroon carpet that cascaded over the steps. Sarah was baffled when she realized that she was being guided toward the west wing of the castle. On her first day, Edith had told her that a portion of this wing was reserved for important guests and ambassadors when they came to stay or conduct business, though Sarah hadn’t been allowed to see it until now. But she knew immediately upon noting the growing opulence around her that they were headed into the heart of the extravagant guest wing. She felt a thrill of excitement over getting to discover a new part of the castle, but she couldn’t ignore the niggling apprehension that stirred in her gut.

The passageway opened into a large room on the right that led to another flight of stairs spiraling downward. Edith kept to the wall on their left, and Sarah followed her like an obedient dog to the other side of the room where it split into three passageways. She trailed her guide down the long, wide passageway in the middle.

The transformation during their walk was noticeable, but now the difference was staggering. It was as though these corridors were dripping with opulence: Thick, ornately embroidered tapestries hung from the walls, some decorated with the royal crest, while others depicted nature scenes in rich tones. Sarah’s old room had connected to a hall that was dingy and cramped, with completely unadorned walls or cheery decorations of any sort. The passageway was too narrow to mount and safely burn torches, so the walls turned inky-black in the night, save for the occasional tiny circle of flickering light cast by a servant’s candle as they made their way to their room.

The walls of the passageway they now walked, which housed a ridiculous number of doors leading to who knew where, were covered with some extravagant ornament or another, and unlit torches were interspersed throughout the opulence, mounted and awaiting an aristocrat’s next whim for light as they made their temporary residence in these halls. Sarah had never felt so insignificant or intimidated.       

“I thought you were going to show me my new room,” she whispered to her companion, trying not to draw the attention of any of the occupants that loomed just behind these closed doors.

Eyes focused at the end of the hall, Sarah eyed the rectangular table with the overly large flower display atop it as they drew nearer with every step, making Sarah feel like they were edging closer to a dead end.

She tried again, voice low, “If they’ve moved all my stuff, we should go back. Or do we have something to do before you show me which room is mine?” She knew she was rambling in her nervousness, and she shot Edith a questioning glance, noticing for the first time her pinched expression. She had bustled into the passage before, but now Edith’s footsteps were slower and closer together, hinting at reluctance that Sarah had not noticed before. The look on the older woman’s face only increased Sarah’s apprehension. There was something she wasn’t sharing.

“That is what I’m doing,” Edith explained calmly, though her voice sounded strained. She released Sarah’s arm as they stopped before the final hulking door at the end of the passage on the right. She pushed it open and took a step back. “This one is your room.” She suddenly looked more like a servant and less like the mentor and friend Sarah had come to know her as.

Shooting her a quizzical glance, Sarah got no further than the threshold before she froze in place.  

She had never truly felt the gap between classes back home, but there was no denying the vast difference in this place. Her sad quarters in the servants’ wing couldn’t hold a candle to this room, bedecked in such startling elegance that it caused her to temporarily forget her earlier distress.