Her palms were slick, hands trembling uncontrollably. She tried two more, praying she hadn’t gone too fast and missed the right one. Her anxiety grew and, though she knew she had to focus, she couldn’t help glancing up. She let out a startled gasp as Damien charged for the door.
She inserted the key into the lock, rattling the others against the bars. It stuck. Panicked, Sarah jerked it to the right and ripped the key from the hole just as Damien’s hand shot out for her. With a cry of alarm, she lurched back, losing her balance. He reached through the bars, gripping her forearm so tightly that she nearly cried out as his hold forced her against the cell.
“Let me go!” she shrieked, trying to wrench free. But he was too frantic to release her, eyes wild with fright as he pressed his face against the bars, like some feral animal that found itself in a trap.
“Sarah, please don’t do this,” he pleaded, face so near to her own. “This is bigger than either of us.”
Knowing she couldn’t let him escape, she chucked the keys behind her to keep them from his reach. Damien watched them slide toward the stairs, but he quickly turned his attention back to her. “You must understand that so much of what I’ve done was to keep you safe. You’re in danger.”
“And what about Cadius? Did he have me moved so you could keep tabs on me?”
His silence was answer enough, and Sarah glared at him. He was quick to add, “But I only followed through because I wanted to watch out for you: keeping you close meant ensuring your safety, and I was never going to inform him of your dealings. I turned his confidence around to protect you.”
“Oh, so now you’re worried about me?” she retorted bitterly. “You tried to shoot me!”
His eyes softened along with his grip. “I was never going to. I’ve always cared about you, and I have done so much to keep you safe. I would never hurt you,” he said again.
Sarah wrenched free of his grasp, eyes blazing. “You killed Edith! And you held me after, like you were an innocent.” He winced, but didn’t deny it; she could tell he was tired of lying to her.
Tears of agonized disgust filled her eyes. “You’ve already hurt me, Damien, you’re just too selfish to see it.” She couldn’t keep her voice from quavering.
His expression was tormented as his eyes closed. Good. At that moment, she wanted to hurt him.
“Do you have any idea,” he whispered faintly, “how it tore at me to know I had taken the life of an innocent—someone you cared for? And I could never ask for forgiveness without admitting my guilt. I would have to carry that alone.” Damien opened his eyes, and they bore into hers, searching for some sign of trust. “But I told you it was an accident. Surely you must believe me when I say that no one was supposed to get hurt.”
Sarah glared at him. “Everything I believed about you is a lie. You betrayed my trust, manipulated me, and pretended to be my friend. Any amount of faith I ever had in you was buried in the ground right along with Edith.”
Why was she still standing there? She should leave him and never look back. But she stayed rooted to the spot, needing to know why he had been there, why it had happened the way it did. She couldn’t walk away with so many unanswered questions. “What was the whole point of the ruse with Robert, anyway? Why single him out?”
He hesitated, dipping his head in defeat until his hair fell through the bars. “His interest in the vigilante was one of the deciding factors, but I cannot say more than that; it’s too dangerous.” She scoffed.
Damien pressed closer to the barrier, as though he could slip through to the other side and convince her of his innocence. His words came out sounding choked. “I want you to know,” he said, “I need you to know that what I feel for you is not a lie. So please believe me when I say that it is too dangerous to tell you, that you will be in greater peril if I reveal my reasons. Everything I’ve done is to protect you, and I will not undo that and risk your safety.”
His tone was so earnest, but how could she trust him? Brokenly, she asked, “And I’m supposed to believe all this? You’ve only caused me hurt.”
“I saved your life!” Damien cried out suddenly, gripping the bars. His words were filled with frustration over the fact that he was getting nowhere with her. Face awash in misery and defeat, he said more quietly, “I’ve been protecting you for months and would never dream of turning my back on you now. Isn’t that worth something?”
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.
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