Chasing Shadows (52 page)

He was speaking nonsense. “What are you talking about, saving my life?” Sarah demanded in confusion.

He seemed to sense her interest and grasped hold of the tiny straw held out to him. “I have kept Cadius off your trail and have lied to many in order to keep you safe. I told you that people have died over less than you know.” He hesitated, and the silence was heavy, the intensity of his gaze spearing her to the ground. She saw in his dark eyes a deep desire to convince her that he was not quite the monster she imagined him to be.

She felt a flicker of sympathy toward the man in the cell as she wondered if this would be the final picture anyone had of the great Lord Damien Lisandro—that of a man trapped in a cage by his own lies and poorly placed loyalties.

Sarah’s heart felt sick at the thought that he might never see the sun again. As much as she wanted to hate him, and a part of her implicitly did, she only felt a deep, hollow of sadness inside when she recalled the man who had smiled and laughed in the snow with her, the boyish, inexperienced joy he had expressed over a concept as simple as having
fun
.

Then she remembered his serious gaze, much like it was now, as he had warned her off Cadius in the darkened corridor after dinner with the royals. His concern had been genuine then, as she suspected it was now.

She clenched her fists against the building ache, desperately wishing this broken killer before her and the kind friend she’d known weren’t the same person. “Please,” Sarah whispered, a part of her needing to know his answer but dreading it just the same. “Can you tell me how the sweet, self-deprecating man who made me laugh at the ball when I felt out of place could work for such a monster?”

His dark eyes were filled with sorrow and regret, conveying a thousand unspoken words, pleading for her understanding. But all he said was, “Someday you’ll understand.”

The two sides warring within made her feel split in half, torn over what to feel and who to believe. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of her inward struggle, and she squeezed her eyes closed against the building ache.

“You know I would never hurt you.” Damien’s quiet words were spoken with assurance as he witnessed her fight. Gently, like he truly didn’t want to upset her but had to make her understand, he whispered, “Have you ever stopped to wonder why you got away that day?”

Sarah finally opened her eyes, giving him a quizzical look. “What day?”

“The fire. Who do you think he worked for?”

Uncomprehending, she began to shake her head and then froze, mouth parting in utter astonishment. “The fire . . . Allan. You killed him,” she breathed, eyes wide. Damien winced and gave a minute nod. Stunned, her eyes searched his face. “You helped us get away. Why?”      

He opened his mouth to say more, but it snapped closed as they both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps down the corridor. Wide-eyed, Sarah faced him again. His knuckles were white with strain around the bars.

“I can’t let them catch on to me,” he whispered regretfully, eyes edged with pain. “But I promise you—I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to earn back your trust.”

Biting her lip, Sarah lingered in indecision as some of the angry fight left her. He must have sensed her struggle, because he nodded once, encouraging her to go.

Lips tipping in sadness, he murmured, “I shall give you a head start, darling. For old time’s sake.” His voice cracked. 

Sarah understood now: He was coming after her.

Heart in her throat, she spun on her heels and took off for the stairs, snatching the keys off the ground in a last minute decision, hoping to buy time.
Just keep moving,
she told herself as she slipped the ring around her wrist. If she didn’t look back—

“Sarah!” Damien’s harsh whisper sounded on the verge of panic. She instinctively spun around on the top step, nearly out of sight around the corner, and forced herself to meet his gaze. Even from a distance she could see that he was breathing hard.

“What?” she whispered harshly. Her eyes flickered nervously down the hall as the footsteps grew louder. Surely whoever was patrolling would have heard his call.

Eyes searching her face, Damien shook his head slowly. The incredibly tender and accepting smile that graced his lips caused tears to burn her throat. “Nothing. Just memorizing.”

Sarah allowed herself one final, lingering glance, feeling the ache in her chest grow until she couldn’t breathe properly. When she could bear the sorrowful sight of him no longer, she dashed down the stairs, choking on a sob marred by fear and sadness. She almost ran smack into Sevrine as she rounded the corner of the staircase, breezing past the startled little girl with no explanation as to why she looked such a fright.

But Damien held his word, and Sarah was halfway down the staircase before she heard him cry out to the guard for help.

~Chapter 45~

Sarah had never run so fast in her life. The staff stared as she blew past, eyes wide, skirts flying about her as she dashed down the stairs and toward the main door. A footman was stationed there and, with a look of surprise, ripped the door open, barely managing a startled “Good day, my lady” before she ran past him and through the gate to Will’s shop.

She remembered calling out his name as the pseudo Shadow ran from her, and then Damien’s reaction when she introduced the two men at the ball—the look of recognition in his eyes when she’d used Will’s name: Damien knew his secret, and it was all her fault.

Driven by fear, her legs ate up the distance to the livery. A golden brown mare was stomping her front hoof on the ground, tossing her mane in agitation. Sarah skidded to a sudden halt at the sight of the two guards loitering in the alley next to the shop. It wouldn’t have been so suspicious if they didn’t “subtly” patrol around the perimeter of the building every five seconds.

Were they waiting for her? She amended her paranoid train of thought. Will, then? But why? Whatever the reason, Sarah knew he was too smart to show up at his shop with a couple of goons waiting for him.

She spun on her heels and ducked into the nearest street, making a beeline for the forest. She must have looked like a frightened red hen in her dress as she flew across the pure white snow into the forest, swatting branches from her path. Her skirt caught several times, but she didn’t take the time to untangle it; she just ripped it free and kept running, fear and waning time pressing down on her chest and making it difficult to breathe.

Will’s house came into view over the rise an instant before she saw him crouched near the woodpile on the side. He was slipping something into his boot and glanced up as she approached. She must have appeared a terrible fright for him to look so instantly panicked.

He shot to his feet. “What—”

“Damien,” she gasped, grabbing his arm for support. Her words came out in a rush, a series of hysterical chokes and gasps. “He killed Edith. He posed as the Shadow and killed her. And the physician and Gabriel! And he might have even killed John, too.” Her legs threatened to give way. She knew she sounded crazy, and most of what she said was hardly intelligible, anyway, but she felt a swelling of warmth in her spasming chest as Will’s brow furrowed in seriousness. He believed her!

Gripping her shoulders, he looked her over with burning eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

Sarah shook her head vehemently, though she knew her dismissal wasn’t wholly honest. “I found out,” she gasped, “that he killed Gabriel and framed the physician, and he set the whole thing up at the castle with the Shadow. I have a letter he wrote to prove it.” She almost added Robert’s involvement, but she couldn’t bring him into this; it would only seem like one more betrayal to Will if he found out another worker of his had been disloyal. If Robert wanted to come clean, that was his business.

Gripping her burning side, Sarah added in abrupt sentences, “I locked him in the tower, but he’ll get out soon. The physician wasn’t there, and guards are spying on your shop.” She sucked in large gulps of air, filling her starved lungs.

Will scowled. “I assumed as much about the physician and was just coming to tell you not to go by the livery.” He sighed. “Last night I realized Mr. Devlin was the last piece of evidence and left this morning to free him, but he had already been hanged by the time I arrived.”

That’s why he’d left. Sarah nodded jerkily, too winded to speak just then.

“So the Spaniard murdered them both?” he clarified, grounding out the words. “He should have been the one to hang.”

“But Edith and Gabriel were accidents.” She tucked her chin, wondering why she was attempting to justify Damien’s actions. Will’s brows rose at the way she jumped to his defense, and she felt the need to add, “He saved both of us the day of the fire.”

Will’s whole body stiffened at her quiet words. “What?”

“He took Allan out to keep him from escaping and reaching his superiors. I hate to admit it, but he may have kept us from further harm.”

“We don’t know that.” His jaw was set in a stubborn line.

“Think about it,” she urged. “Whoever hired Allan wanted to know the Shadow’s identity and to have both of us dead. If he’d had the chance to tell them who you were and what we were trying to uncover, they wouldn’t have stopped coming after us just because Allan failed the first time.”

A muscle in Will’s jaw twitched, and he scrubbed a hand over the shadows growing there. He looked agitated. “So I owe my life to a murderer? What a paradox.”

She sighed at his annoyance, knowing it must be difficult to realize a man he despised so implicitly might have saved his life.

“No. I don’t know.” Sarah swallowed, hating to dump everything on him at once, but there was no way to sugar coat the next part of her message. She cringed as she admitted, “And, Will, I think he knows your secret.” Thanks to
her
, that is.

His eyes snapped to attention, the mockery fading. “What?” he breathed.

Nodding reluctantly, she confessed, “I think for some time now. Remember, I used your name when I thought the Shadow was you at the castle?”

Will’s lids closed, the lines on his forehead appearing more defined. The half moon scar over his eye curved upward as his brows furrowed. “So he knows. And if my identity is revealed, a murder is tacked onto my reputation.” He sounded resigned.

Sarah hadn’t considered how Edith’s death would be pinned on the real Shadow, and she couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen to Will if he were wrongly accused of her murder. “I don’t know what he’ll do with the secret, but he’s kept it for several days already, so maybe . . .” Her voice faded. Damien was an enigma to her now, and she could no longer judge what he would and would not do.

She whispered, “I don’t think it will be long before he speaks with the guards at your shop and puts two-and-two together. He’ll know I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Will placed his hands on her arms. “No regrets, remember? I knew this day would come. I’m simply glad you’re safe.” He released a breath. “I will figure something out. In the meantime, let’s get you warmed up inside; it’s freezing out here.”

Sarah nodded and let him guide her around the house. Her head spun with all the information flying around up there, and she tried to remember what she had actually shared with him. She cringed as she added, “And, Will, I think Jade was involved somehow.”

His eyes snapped to her face in shocked denial, and she nodded reluctantly. “I saw a letter she got a few days ago, and it was closed with the same seal Damien used on the note I have.”

“I just can’t believe it.” Will frowned severely. “I wonder if the Spaniard convinced her to jump so that she and John’s body would be discovered together.”

“I don’t really think—” Sarah froze mid-step as they rounded the house.

Three horses appeared from the trees, Damien leading the troupe. Will slowly drew her behind him, holding an arm out to shield her from sight, as if the riders hadn’t already spotted her. But Damien’s eyes had locked on hers the moment she looked up.

“How odd to have so much company today,” Will said sardonically. Mockery fading, his voice hardened. “What do you want, Spaniard?”

Damien’s eyes stayed fixed on her, returning her wide-eyed gaze. His answer was written all over his handsome, tortured features before he opened his mouth. “I’ve come for Sarah,” he said softly, resolutely. His quiet confidence was unnerving.

Sarah shrank back, seeing how his eyes flickered in pain at the slight movement of distrust. He searched her face, his own trying to convey some hidden message she didn’t comprehend. Was he searching for understanding or sympathy in her features?

Will’s entire back stiffened at the admission. “Did you ever think to ask what she wants?”

Finally, Damien broke eye contact with her, turning a hard-edged gaze on Will. The determination and assuredness, like he knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted, made the hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck stand at attention.

“And she wants
you
?” he asked, looking Will up and down. She saw Will’s fist clench into a tight ball, knuckles turning pure white. One of Damien’s brows rose condescendingly. “A poor blacksmith? No, she’s coming with me.”  

Will snorted in derision. But his hand clamped around Sarah’s wrist possessively, sensing the other man’s seriousness. “Like hell,” he ground out.

Sarah almost nodded in agreement. There was no way she was going with Damien, but she felt too frightened to voice her objections. Her nervous gaze flickered to the two men flanking Damien. She wasn’t surprised to see Timmons at his side, but it took her a moment to place the man on his left, and even then it was only because she recognized him in uniform.

She swallowed hard as she recalled seeing him about the castle. Even some of the guards were under Damien’s payroll, it seemed.

The barest of smiles pulled at the corner of Damien’s mouth, reminding her of a cat who had its prey trapped in a corner. And she and Will were the mice. “I can’t exactly allow Sarah to go; she knows too much. ”

“Then why don’t you just kill us on the spot? It’s not as if you haven’t done so before.” Though Will’s question was spoken out of curiosity, it came out sounding more like an invitation. Sarah winced.
Don’t test him, Will,
she thought.

A flicker of pain crossed Damien’s tan face, but it was quickly replaced by a scowl. His horse shifted under him, and he tightened his hold on the reins. “Whatever happens to you is none of my concern, but the lady comes with me.” 

“I’ll tell you where you can put your ideas.” Will took a step forward, but Sarah latched onto his arm.

“If I come with you, will you let him go?” she cried out, terrified of the fight she felt brewing between the two men. Whatever the outcome, she knew there would be a loss.

Will turned, staring at her as if she had sprouted horns. He shook his head and lowered his voice, though she knew the others could hear him in the oppressive quiet of the forest. “In his eyes, I’m dead, anyway.”

“Promise you won’t hurt him, Damien,” she called out as a last-ditch effort. He had said he would never lie to her, and she prayed that was true.

“My hands will do him no harm,” Damien returned, shoulders lifting confidently.

Will scoffed. “Ask him about his cronies,” he said under his breath.

“What about them?” She motioned to his men, feeling a little bubble of desperate hope building inside her. But his continued silence and the stoic look on Damien’s face—which cracked only for a moment to reveal the pain written on his features—squashed every ounce of hope.

“That’s what I thought,” Will muttered. Louder, he asked, “So, shall I end up like John and take a swim over the falls, or will you simply jam by corpse into a chest? Because it appears you’re too much of a coward to fight me in an even match.”

Damien’s eyes flared in outrage. He threw his leg over the horse’s rump, dropping to the ground and taking a step toward them. “Do not test me, blacksmith. I came to take Sarah, and that is what I will do.” His eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I have a sense I should speak slower, because you don’t appear to comprehend that I have the upper hand. Though if it eases your conscience, I vow she will come to no harm in my presence.”

“Your promise means nothing,” Will spat. “She’ll be your prisoner and personal toy, and you expect me to step aside at your
word?
As it stands, I can do something before I’m too far underground to make a difference.”

Sarah balked at his heroism and the rather blatant slap in the face he’d directed at Damien. 

Watching the threesome out of the corner of his eye, Will turned his head toward her so they couldn’t read his lips. Lowly, he murmured, “I want you to go inside and throw the bolt down on the door.” His eyes burned with the need for her to do exactly as he said. “Whatever happens, don’t come out unless I tell you.
Please.
” Gently, he pried her stiff fingers from his arm and stepped forward to fight.

“Will, no!” Sarah whispered frantically, afraid the others might overhear and suspect his intentions. She reached for him, but he’d already moved from her grasp. A perfect flake landed on the tip of her nose, melting against her warm skin.
Perfect,
she thought disgruntledly. Snow wouldn’t help this situation.

Damien’s eyes flickered up to the clouds and then landed on Sarah, his look meaningful. She dropped her gaze, knowing his thoughts were on that day in the snow. She glanced up when she caught movement as he pulled a dagger from its sheath on his belt, the long sword at his side left untouched. He grinned mockingly at Will, splaying his fingers. “I suppose I over prepared.”

“You’ll need it,” she heard Will growl.

Timmons and the guard, silent like sentinels, started to move from their mounts to offer assistance, but they froze. Sarah heard it too: barking dogs and shouts.

Will and Damien glared at each other from a distance, and it was obvious neither appreciated the interruption. Then they broke off in opposite directions, and Sarah nearly sagged with relief that the fight was over before it had begun.