Chasing Shadows (44 page)

~Chapter 38~

An emotional tailspin, that’s what this was.

Sarah frowned up at the ceiling, arms and legs splayed restlessly beneath the covers. The sun had come up hours ago, but she stayed in bed, ruefully musing over last night. She couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was feeling, or rather she couldn’t feel any singular emotion for more than five seconds at a time.

One instant she felt elated that she and Will had sorted things out and drawn closer to defining their relationship. Then she was reminded of Damien and the way he had tried to kiss her, and
especially
the fact that she had shied away when she didn’t exactly want to, and she suddenly felt ill.

It had gone back and forth like this since she woke at sunrise—first giddy anticipation when she relived her kiss with Will, followed by immediate remorse over feeling whatever she had at times with Damien; excitement over knowing how Will cared for her, depression at not being able to fully return Damien’s feelings; a thrill at a shared kiss, a pang of regret over stringing Damien along, however unintentional. Then it turned into trepidation as she thought about some of the moments she had shared with the Spaniard and her confusing feelings at those times, comparing them with her feelings for Will. And so it went until Sarah’s head felt like it might explode from her tangled emotions.

Now she was vacillating between telling Damien that they could never be more than friends, and slinking into a dark hole to wait until he relocated to another continent and forgot all about her before she decided to emerge. The latter half might be the coward’s way out, but it sounded less painful. For the both of them.  

“Agh!” With a groan of frustration, Sarah chucked her covers aside and launched herself out of bed. She immediately grimaced as her feet hit the half-frozen floor and quickly shuffled to her slippers, throwing on a robe for good measure.

Sarah plopped down in her desk chair, muttering something about how growing up stunk; it was so much easier when her parents made decisions for her—that would certainly take the pressure off.

She stared at the blank papers lying on her desk until she was sure they would burst into flames, wondering what she could do to occupy her mind until Will came. A twinge of anticipation warmed her stomach at the thought, and she tried to focus on that excited emotion rather than the thousand or so others vying for attention in her mind.

Tapping the fingers of one hand on the wood, Sarah planted her chin on her knuckles with a huff. She knew she was stalling, but she didn’t yet have the heart—or the nerve—to leave her room and risk encountering Damien. Avoidance was definitely the gutless choice, but it gave her time to think.

“Not like I haven’t done enough of that already today,” she muttered under her breath. Her bored gaze wandered over the sparse desk, landing on the seal. She picked it up, rolling it absentmindedly between her palms as she stared at the wall. Her hands froze mid-roll, and she stared at the design, stained around the edges by repeated dips into the purple-dyed wax. There was something about the design, something terribly familiar. . . . 

She sat stock-straight. Dropping the seal onto the table with a clatter, she ripped the drawers open until she found the letter Robert had given to her. She picked up the seal again with shaking fingers, holding it up to the envelope. They were identical!

Her mind worked frantically to piece it together. Had someone broken into her room to frame her? Or had the previous occupants sealed the letter before she came? She briefly toyed with the idea that maybe these seals weren’t as unique as she’d originally thought and wondered if there might be a match somewhere else in the castle.

Frowning, she realized that they weren’t a perfect match, but the design with the raised eagle and the stars behind looked so similar that she squinted to ensure they weren’t the same.

Rubbing her temple with the hand that still clutched the missive, Sarah knew she would get nowhere with her questions if she couldn’t find some real answers. The only person she could discuss things with was in a guarded cage, and before she could second-guess herself, she dropped the letter back into its hiding place for safekeeping and slammed the drawer closed. Leaving the seal behind on the desk, she jumped up and threw on a heavy dress to keep herself warm in the dungeons.

She bustled towards the stairs, eyes focused on her feet, fully intending to make it there and back before Will arrived, whenever that might be. At the bottom, she glanced cautiously over her shoulder and balked at the sight of Damien walking down the staircase with the man she had seen him with the other night, Timmons.

Of all the luck!
she silently cursed.

Sarah froze for a solid breath before dashing across the landing and into the shadows of the long corridor under the staircase. Crouched at the lip of the entrance, she held her breath and listened to the sound of the men’s footfall overhead. They stopped at the base of the stairs, voices lowered.

“Of course I understood the urgency of it,” Damien was saying, his voice echoing off the unfurnished walls and carrying easily to her strained ears. “But I hardly had the opportunity, and now I’m forced to clean up this mess. . . .”

His voice faded. What were they talking about? Sarah leaned forward a fraction of an inch to hear the man’s murmured reply. “It’s been taken care of. No need to concern yourself, my lord.”

“I was not concerned,” Damien muttered under his breath, sounding perturbed. There was another exchange that was too low for her to hear and then they dispersed. Their footfalls faded until Sarah was sure the coast was clear. She suddenly became aware of how ridiculous she must look, huddled in the near darkness to avoid the handsomest lord in the castle.

She sighed.

“This looks cozy.”

Sarah started, swallowing a shriek as she lost her balance and tumbled onto her rear. Damien looked more than a little bemused at finding her like this, though the corners of his mouth tipped in humor. Offering her a hand, he tugged her to her feet. She was suddenly very grateful for the darkness that hid the embarrassed flush on her cheeks.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“I was coming to find you. Do you have a moment?” His sudden question took her by surprise, which turned to trepidation when she caught the nervous edge to his words.

“I was sort of on my way out,” she hedged slowly.

He seemed disappointed, but he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. It’s simply that—” He faltered, rubbing his palms together nervously. Clearing his throat, he said, “I hope that last night—I was wondering if that was out of line?”

Sarah hoped the semi-darkness hid her cringe. She had been trying to avoid this. “It surprised me, is all,” she answered tactfully, praying he would leave it at that.

But he took a step closer, his eyes searching her face, unsure. His hand rose to her cheek, faltering an inch from her skin before he seemed to gain the courage to brush a tendril back.
Oh, Lord,
Sarah thought, chagrined.
Not again.
 

“I think by now you must know how I feel about you,” Damien said softly. His words were hardly louder than a breath, but she heard them clearly in the tense silence surrounding them. He shifted, and his expression was lost to the shadows. His words were stilted, unrehearsed. That made it all the worse when he poured his heart out to her. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way,” he murmured, stroking her cheek.

“Damien—”

“No, please, don’t speak. I fear that if I can’t give voice to the feelings I spent all night pondering, then this pain in my chest may be my end.” Sarah closed her mouth obediently, though she wasn’t sure if it would be more merciful to stop him from speaking altogether.

His thumb sent a trail of fire along her jaw where it brushed her skin. She hated that she still responded to his touch and closed her eyes, trying to block it out. But his words, spoken with such tenderness, tore at her. “You are as pure and white as snow, my lady.”

Her eyes jerked open in bafflement.

Damien went on thoughtfully, “I didn’t realize it until the day we played that game in the snow. When we fell and you smiled down at me, there was a shower of powder falling down around us, behind you. I could see the resemblance clearly then: you make everything clean.”

His hand dropped from her cheek only to take her hands in his, holding tight when he felt her resist. “I’ve never been a fool to fall so quickly, but, my lady, I believe I am falling in love with you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, his earnestness making this all the more difficult. Two professions of love in less than twenty-four hours should have thrilled her, but she only felt a sickening guilt in her middle.

Closing her eyes, Sarah shook her head, sure he could feel the frantic movement even if he wasn’t able to see it. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered.

Damien’s voice was smooth and tender, like dark honey dripping off a warm spoon. She had no choice but to open her eyes, searching the dark for the expression she imagined from his soft voice. “But I do. I care deeply for this lady before me, who makes me want to be a better man.” He pulled her close, then, and she was too shell-shocked and guilt ridden to resist. Folding her in his arms, he buried his face in her neck.

Sarah felt a traitorous shiver race down her spine when he expelled a slow, shaky breath against her skin. She clenched her teeth, hoping he hadn’t felt the tremor. How could she capitulate so easily to his tenderness? Would he never cease to break down her defenses and confuse her thoughts?

Telling and then
forcing
her hands to move, she pressed gently against his chest. He didn’t fight her, but she could tell he was reluctant from the way his jaw trailed against hers as he slowly pulled back, his stubble rasping against her skin. His hands lingered on her hips for a moment longer than necessary, and then he sighed, dropping his hold.

“You know I care about you, Damien,” she began, grimacing at how cliché her words sounded, scripted right out of the “Let’s just be friends” handbook. She consciously steered clear of the “It’s not you, it’s me” part of the speech, not wanting to hurt him any more than she had to.

She heard him suck in a breath. “But not in that way,” Damien finished.

“No,” she answered regretfully, then flinched. Why did that feel like a partial falsehood? She knew she felt
something
for him and didn’t want to cause him hurt; she found herself wishing that she could give him the love he wanted in return. But her heart belonged to another, and it would be a lie to pretend any longer.

Reaching out, she gently brushed her fingertips against his arm. It was an unconscious attempt to console him, but she feared the light touch might have only hurt him more. Pulling her hand back, she whispered, “I wish I could give you what you want.”

He was quiet for a long time, and Sarah was starting to feel awkward—more so than before—standing there in silence. Finally, he said in a voice stronger than she had been expecting and laced with determination, “I’m a patient man. When I wish to be,” he added, and she heard a grin in his voice.

She stifled a groan of frustration. Maybe she should have just come right out and said it, plain and simple. “It’s probably just a passing infatuation,” she reasoned. “You deserve a woman who can love you and stay in Serimone. I won’t be around much longer. Then where would we be? Even if I felt that way,” she was quick to add. “And I’m easy to get over.”

But Damien was already shaking his head. He took her hands again and gave them a promising squeeze. “You can’t know what I feel,” he admonished gently. She ducked her head, ashamed that she had unwittingly demeaned his affection. Damien hooked a finger under her chin, lifting it, and she was surprised at the fervent note his words carried. “But I promise you this: I will do everything in my power to win you and show you that my feelings are true, though the decision will be yours alone.”

Sarah sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” he answered firmly, a smile back in his voice. The man was persistent, she’d give him that. And he was also entirely vexing.

“You’ll just be wasting your time,” she insisted, trying to sway him, fearing what might occur if he continued to persist.

“We will see.” Damien’s answer was full of confidence.

Shaking her head at his certainty, she heaved another sigh. This conversation couldn’t have backfired more, and reasoning with him was going to get her nowhere. “I guess I’d better be going, then.”

“Yes. I have some pressing matters to discuss with the future king, as well.”

That triggered the memory of seeing Damien with that man on the stairs, and she hedged, “What were you and Timmons discussing earlier.”

“Oh, he was informing me that the physician is set to hang. He was moved to a cell situated in the tower at dawn to await the remainder of his sentence.” Damien had answered without inflection, as though he were discussing tedious business matters.

Sarah felt her blood go cold. How was she supposed to find him now? He was the last evidence against Cadius! “When?” she whispered, throat closing. “When is the execution?”