Bosque smiled slowly. “But I wonder if you don’t understand that I can also take things away.”
Without warning, Bosque hefted the pitchfork and drove it into Ares’s chest. The stallion squealed, rearing with such force that he ripped the reins from Tristan’s hand, tearing skin off his palm.
Bosque struck again and again. Ares’s breath became wet wheezes. The stallion groaned, falling to his knees and collapsing onto his side. Tristan stood paralyzed by disbelief and anguish as he watched the horse drown in his own blood.
Tossing the bloodied pitchfork aside, Bosque said quietly, “That was a merciful death. Your Searcher’s end will not be so swift if you disobey me.”
“What do you want me to do?” Tristan whispered, his voice hoarse.
“I’d be happy if you killed her,” Bosque replied. “But if your carnal appetites demand she be available to you, I’ll allow it. However, she must become a true prisoner under Lana and Owen’s guard. Do you understand?”
Tristan nodded. Ares had stopped moving. The stallion’s eyes had become flat and glassy.
“It’s time for you to accept your place in this world,” Bosque said. “Don’t disappoint me, Tristan.”
“I won’t.”
And Bosque was gone.
Tristan stared at the dead horse for a long time. Turning his back on Ares, Tristan walked away from the stable and toward the castle, knowing he could no longer escape his fate.
Sarah stripped the covers from her bed, wrapped them around her body, and sat in front of the fireplace. She couldn’t seem to get warm. It felt as if Bosque’s presence had taken her body temperature down several degrees. Gazing into the ruddy glow of the flames, Sarah tried to rid her mind of Bosque’s words.
That is Tristan’s work.
The Harbinger used words like an expert torturer used a knife, cutting but not killing—maximizing pain without taking life.
The sound of the door opening made Sarah jump to her feet in alarm.
Tristan came through the door and closed it behind him.
The rush of relief that Sarah would have anticipated upon seeing Tristan never came. Instead her heart beat at a slow dirge of a pace and she still felt cold.
Tristan approached her slowly, warily, which only made Sarah’s blood frigid.
He stopped a short distance from her. Close enough to reach out and just touch her but not within the sphere of intimate space.
“Bosque said he saw you.” Tristan’s words were stiff, almost mechanical.
Sarah nodded, wanting to ask, What did the Harbinger say to you? But her throat was closed tight and words wouldn’t come.
“Are you hurt?” Tristan asked.
Shaking her head, Sarah swallowed a few times and managed to say, “I think he just wanted to frighten me.” With a harsh laugh she added, “It worked.”
“What did he say to you?” Tristan’s gaze was cool, distant.
That’s what I wanted to ask you. “That your attachment to me couldn’t go on.”
“What else?”
Sarah drew a sharp breath. “That he wasn’t going to kill me. Because you would.”
Tristan’s eyes hardened, making his features bleak. “Are you afraid of me, Sarah? Do you think I’m going to kill you because Bosque ordered it so?”
Sarah almost retreated, as Tristan’s words cut like a blade, but she heard the fear behind his questions. Dropping the blankets that had cocooned her, Sarah shook her head, stepped forward, and took Tristan into her arms.
“Never.”
“How can you trust me?” Tristan’s arms went around Sarah’s waist, but his gaze was troubled. “You’ve seen what he is. Sarah, that’s what I am. I share his blood.”
“Your blood wasn’t your choice,” Sarah said, touching his cheek. “But you don’t have to let the Harbinger choose what your future will be.”
A bit of the wild panic in Tristan’s eyes faded, but the despair remained.
“Do you love me?” Sarah whispered.
“More than anything.” Tristan’s hand slid up her back. He cradled the nape of her neck in his palm.
Sarah placed a kiss in the hollow of his throat. Looking up at him again, she said, “Then choose me.”
Tristan rested his forehead against hers. “We have to leave. As soon as we can.”
“I know.” Holding Tristan close, Sarah finally felt her body begin to warm.
26
SOME PART OF Sarah had believed that knowing more about the Harbinger would make planning an escape easier, but instead it pushed her toward a dangerous edge of panic. She didn’t know how much time they had, but guessed it was very little, at best. Her life rested upon the whim of a petulant and cruel succubus, and Sarah knew that she had to puzzle out some way to mitigate the threat Lana posed.
But Lana wasn’t Sarah’s only concern. The logistics of getting off the island was still a major obstacle that Sarah needed help dealing with, and that meant she’d have to put more lives in danger.
“I was hoping you’d join me for tea today, Moira,” said Sarah, as the girl was about to place the gleaming silver tray on the side table.
This is the only way. And it might save her, too. You have to remember that. It might save her, too.
Moira set the tray down so hard it rattled. “Join you, miss?”
“Yes.” Sarah tried to keep her voice even. Though she and Tristan had agreed that this was their best course, her nerves were jangled because of the risk. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. Please sit.”
Moira perched on the edge of her chair and fidgeted. “Have I done something wrong, miss?”
“Moira,” Sarah said wearily, “you don’t have to assume that you’ve done something wrong anytime someone asks to speak with you. Since I’ve been here I don’t think you’ve done a single thing wrong.”
“That’s kind of you, miss,” Moira said, still shifting restlessly in her seat.
“It’s not kind, Moira,” Sarah told her. “It’s true. You need to have more faith in yourself. And that’s why I want to talk to you.”
Moira looked at Sarah with wide eyes, and Sarah felt a twinge of guilt. On the one hand she was about to offer the servant girl the chance to forever change her life’s course; on the other hand Sarah was also offering her the chance to lose it.
Sarah poured two cups of tea. “Sugar? Milk?”
“I should be doing that, miss!” Moira reached for the pot, but Sarah shook her head.
“You’re my guest today,” Sarah said. “Just tell me how you like your tea.”
“Two sugars, miss,” Moira replied with a shy smile. “And a splash of milk.”
After preparing Moira’s cup and handing it to the girl, Sarah said, “Moira, do you ever think about leaving Castle Tierney?”
Moira jerked in surprise and some of her tea sloshed over the side of the cup. “Of course not, miss,” she said. “This is where I belong.”
“Moira,” Sarah said carefully, “I’m asking you to tell me what you truly feel and not what you think I want to hear.”
The cup trembled in Moira’s hand.
“I know it’s a difficult question.” Sarah leaned forward and touched Moira’s arm. “But I would be greatly indebted if you’d answer me honestly.”
Moira whispered, “Sometimes I think about it. But it’s all foolishness and daydreams.”
“What sort of daydreams?” Sarah asked, offering Moira a sympathetic smile.
“I think I would like to travel,” Moira said, gaining confidence as she spoke. “And meet different people. Everyone here is the same. The families never change and—”
She broke off and blushed scarlet.
“And?” Sarah urged.
Keeping her eyes
downcast, Moira said, “I don’t fancy any of the lads from the other families, miss.”
Sarah managed to stifle her laughter. “Well, that would be frustrating.”
“Oh, it is!” Moira blurted, then blushed again.
“Moira, I’m going to tell you something, and the reason is that I’ve come to trust you,” Sarah said. “And I hope that you trust me and that you’ll help me.”
“Is something wrong?”
Sarah took Moira’s no longer addressing her as “miss” to be a good sign. “Yes. I’m in danger. So is Tristan.”
The pink hue of Moira’s cheeks drained away.
“I need to get a message to the mainland,” Sarah continued. “And I hope that you’ll deliver it.”
Moira chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t go to the mainland.”
“Tristan can arrange it so that you will,” Sarah told her. “He’ll send you along on the supply trip tomorrow morning with instructions that you’ve been asked by him to pick up a special gift for me. You’ll do that, of course, to make sure your reason for going isn’t suspect, but I need you to do something else as well.”
Sarah stood up and went to the vanity. Opening one of its drawers, she withdrew a sealed envelope.
“When you’re in the village, I need you to bring this letter to the fishmonger,” Sarah said. “And when you give him this letter, you must say this: ‘I’m here for the midnight catch.’”
“What’s the midnight catch?” Moira asked.
“It’s a signal to the fishmonger that you need to see the people who can help me,” Sarah answered. “Moira, I won’t deceive you. What I’m asking is very dangerous, but you’re the only one I trust to do this.”
“Why do you need help, miss?” Moira put her tea aside and worried at her apron. “You seem to be much happier here. I thought maybe . . .”
“What?”
“I hoped that you’d come to like it,” Moira said softly. “That you and Master Tristan . . .”
Sarah took Moira’s hands. “I am in love with Tristan, but that’s why I have to go.”
“Leave?” Moira’s face fell. “You’re leaving?”
Sarah nodded, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Not just me, Tristan must leave too. It’s the only way we can be together.”
“Why can’t you be together here?” Moira frowned. “This is Master Tristan’s home.”
“Not by choice,” Sarah told her. “Tristan is like you. He’s here because his family has been told they have to be here.”
“You don’t love him enough to stay with him?” Moira’s voice was almost accusing.
“If I stay, I’ll die.” Sarah squeezed Moira’s fingers. “That’s the truth. You know I’m a prisoner here, and how I feel about Tristan doesn’t matter to the one who put him on this island.”
“Lord Mar,” Moira said in a frightened whisper.
“You know who he is?” Sarah asked.
Moira nodded. “He’s something terrible.”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “That’s why Tristan and I have to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave, miss.” Moira sighed. “If you’ll excuse me for speaking above my station, you’re my friend. My only friend, really.”
“Oh, Moira.” Sarah laughed. “Of course you’re my friend too. I wouldn’t ask this of you if you weren’t.”
“Thank you.” Moira beamed at her.
“And that’s the other part of this,” Sarah continued. “Tristan and I have to leave, but I want you to come with us. Will you?”
Moira gaped at Sarah.
“This is your chance to have a different life,” Sarah pressed. “To travel. To make your own choices. I want that for you, Moira. You deserve more than this.”
“You’d take me with you?” Moira’s voice was thick and her eyes began to glisten.
“I would never leave you behind,” Sarah said.
Moira jumped up and threw herself into Sarah’s arms. The girl’s body shook as Sarah held her and Sarah couldn’t tell if Moira was laughing or crying. But when Moira lifted her face and smiled, Sarah saw that it was both.
Sarah found playing her new part much more of a challenge than she’d expected once a plan for escape had been set in motion. Over dinner, her conversation with Tristan had been trying, to say the least, even though Sarah knew every word to be a fiction. In earshot of the servants, Tristan had belittled her, made casual reference to locking her in her room or even keeping her in chains, and passing comments about Lana’s comeliness. Sarah’s heart didn’t stop aching until they’d retired to her room for the night.
“That was unbearable,” Sarah said as Tristan closed the door.
“I’m so sorry.” Tristan took her hand, squeezing her fingers so hard that Sarah had no doubts he shared her distress. “It gutted me to speak that way to you. Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes,” Sarah told him, meaning it, though she wished she wasn’t finding it so difficult to meet Tristan’s eyes. “I know that wasn’t you. We have to make this look convincing, or it could all fall apart.”
“I would kill anyone for treating you the way I just did.” Tristan released her hand and paced through the room. “You must want to kill me.”
Sarah managed a quiet laugh. “I don’t want to kill you, though I came close to slugging you a few times.”
“I’ll give you a free shot.” Tristan came to stand in front of Sarah and offered her his cheek. When she shook her head and smiled at him, he led Sarah across the room and they sat together on the edge of her bed.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. This was my idea, remember?” Sarah said.
Tristan let out a long sigh, but he nodded.
“And Moira has agreed to help,” Sarah told Tristan. “She wants to come with us when we go.”
Tristan ran his hand through his hair. “That sentiment seems to be catching. Maybe we don’t need to bother with a covert escape; it sounds like I could just let the servants stage a coup.”
“Moira’s an exception,” Sarah said. “I’m guessing the woman who beats her is pretty invested in the system here.”
Nodding, Tristan added, “And while Seamus says otherwise, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Guardians who aid our cause do so only because they’re bored with their lives here. Not the greatest vote of confidence.”
“At least we won’t be fighting them.” Sarah kicked off her heels. One, maybe two Guardians she’d stand a chance against, but facing a pack of wolves would be suicide.
“It’s not the wolves I’m worried about,” Tristan said. The edge in his voice drew a questioning glance from Sarah.
“Even if our little act tonight was a success, I don’t think we have much time before Lana will summon Bosque again,” Tristan told her. “If he returns while we’re still on the island . . . Let’s just say it wouldn’t be a good thing.”
“Tristan.” Sarah steeled herself as she spoke. She’d been rehearsing this conversation in her head all day. “If Lana is the problem, there’s a way to stop her. Or at least to buy us more time than our show of domestic unrest will.”
“If you’ve thought of a way to take Lana out of play, I’d love to hear it.”
Sarah grimaced when she said, “You could sleep with her.”
“What?” Tristan’s voice was flat.
“That’s what started this.” Sarah pressed on, despite the hard cast of Tristan’s gaze. “She’s jealous. If you persuade her that I’m just a passing interest, she might not summon the Harbinger.”
Sarah tried to keep her expression blank, but her fingers dug into the sheets. The thought of Tristan taking Lana to bed filled Sarah’s stomach with pins, but there was so much at stake.
“That’s not an option,” Tristan said. “I’m not going to
fuck Lana.”
“I don’t like it either,” Sarah told him. “But can we risk Bosque suddenly appearing again? How could we escape then?”
Tristan took Sarah’s face in his hands. “No.”
Sarah’s throat closed as her skin heated. The way Tristan was looking at her . . .
“I will not touch another woman,” Tristan said. “Only you. No matter the cost.”
Sarah placed her hands over Tristan’s. He leaned forward and kissed her. His lips were warm on hers. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting her.
“You’re the only woman I want,” Tristan murmured. “I’m going to show you how much I want you.”
“Yes.” Sarah ran her hands up Tristan’s neck and curled her fingers in his hair. All thoughts of strategy and sacrifice bled away as Sarah surrendered to Tristan’s will.
Tristan grasped Sarah’s wrists and pulled her hands away from him. “Stand up. I want you beside the bed, facing me.”
Quietly, Sarah moved to the side of the bed and stood up.
“Take off your dress.”
Her heart rate climbed as she undid the clasp of the halter dress and let it fall to her waist, baring her breasts. Then she bent forward to push down the skirt. The silk jersey pooled at Sarah’s feet. She stood facing Tristan, wearing only a thong of ivory silk and lace.
Sarah didn’t speak as Tristan took his time looking at her. His gaze raked over her body, making her breath come faster. Her skin began to ache for his touch.
Unable to bear it, Sarah reached for him.
“No.”
Sarah went rigid.
“You were ready to ship me off to bed Lana,” Tristan told her. “You will not touch me until I tell you to.”
“Tristan, I didn’t want you to go.” Sarah’s stomach clenched. “I would hate it, but I thought the only . . .”
At her pleas, the corner of Tristan’s mouth twitched into a half smile, and Sarah realized he was provoking her for his own pleasure. What a wicked man he was. The tightness in her stomach eased and in its place a sudden spike of desire made her shudder.
“I will not touch you until you tell me to,” Sarah whispered.
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