The weeks flew by, faster than she'd ever believed was possible. She spent more and more time with Kieran – and more time with Maria and Carissa, too, as Edith's due date neared and she spent more time in her quarters. Over dinner one evening when Kieran was out on patrol, Maria leaned across the table, a curious look in her eyes.
"At the risk of bringing up a dangerous topic," she started carefully, "are you still obsessing over that jewel thief?"
"Honestly? I've been thinking about him less and less," she admitted, surprised to realize that she was telling the truth. "I know how much Kieran hates the idea of me chasing after him with everything like it is. I don't want to worry him."
"Is that the only reason?" Maria asked softly, tilting her head.
"Well, that and the trail's ice cold." Sarah grinned. "Even if I did want to chase him, I'd have nowhere to start."
"Thought so," Maria said, shaking her head. "You know he's probably dead, right? Those bandits are tough bastards… especially to one another. A newcomer like him, without the protection of the castle… well, odds are he was either killed by bandits, or died on the moors."
"You don't have to convince me to give up on him, Maria," Sarah said gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I know I'm obsessive and crazy, but I promise you – I've got no plans to go chasing him."
"Good," Maria said with a smile, but her face was still troubled. "Because you know how bad it's getting out there."
"Yeah," she sighed heavily, thinking back to a conversation she'd had with Kieran the night before. It had been the first time they'd been able to spend any time together in three days – she'd been getting worried he was growing tired of her. He was exhausted from the patrols he'd been doing around the clock, frustrated and irritable as a result of the ongoing bandit situation. It seemed nothing they were doing was putting a dent in the amount of robberies going on, and the impact on the village and local area was getting severe. It hadn't been the most pleasant night they'd ever spent together, if she was honest… they'd even bickered a little. "I know. Bandits, huh?"
"I'm just hoping that when fall comes, the weather chases them all away," Maria said, shaking her head. "But it might only make them worse, more desperate."
She was in a somber mood when she headed up to bed – alone, this time, with Kieran out on the road again. He was pushing himself too hard, she could tell – but what could she do about it? Force him to stay in, to get some rest? He'd only resent her. His work, his job – they were his first love. As a woman who was married to the job herself, she understood that all too well… but this was the first time she'd seen, from the outside, the toll it could take on a person's health, on their relationships. No wonder none of her romantic relationships had ever panned out. She only hoped this one would survive.
It was three days later that she heard it. She was in the courtyard, making herself useful around the stables, enjoying the morning sunlight. Kieran was on patrol again – she'd missed him the last few days, and was worried about how badly he seemed to be burning himself out, but in typical form, he ignored her concerns when she raised them, simply stating that it was his job, and that he'd rest when the bandit plague was dealt with. So, he wasn't exactly her favorite person in the world at the moment… which didn't stop her quietly hoping he'd be back at the castle tonight. The tea that Carissa had made for her tasted strange, but not unpleasant, and she'd been drinking it regularly as clockwork as instructed. And all that work would be wasted if they never got any time together…
Those were the thoughts revolving a little impatiently through her mind as she brushed down a sleek black mare who'd been brought in with a returning patrol. But outside the stall she was standing in, she heard a couple of grooms talking… and her ears perked up when she realized they were discussing the bandits.
"Any news?" she asked, leaning over the stall door. She'd made good friends with many of the grooms over the last few weeks, and she knew these two reasonably well.
"The usual," one of them shrugged. "There's new leadership in the main gang that's been spending time in the pub in the village."
"Damn shame, too," the other one said, shaking his head. "My mate was telling me there's a new storyteller in town who spends his evenings at that pub. I wanted to go down and listen, but Kieran would have my head if I left home after dark."
An unofficial curfew had been imposed on the townsfolk – Kieran wasn't enforcing it in any concrete way, but he'd made it very clear that it was safest for all concerned to be home and inside before nightfall. The grooms, who were a little frightened of the huge, hulking man, clearly took the curfew seriously.
"I heard about him! The English fellow, right?"
"Aye, that's the one. Full of all kinds of outlandish stories about heists and escapades… that must be why he's so popular with the bandits," the second groom said, rolling his eyes.
But an icy certainty had gripped Sarah's chest. Part of her resisted – it couldn't be, it was just wishful thinking on her part – but she could hear her voice shaking a little when she spoke.
"Do you know what he looks like? How old he is?" she asked, trying to sound casual, and not as though this was the most important piece of news she'd heard in the several months she'd been here.
"Tall fellow, from what I'm told," the first groom said, shrugging his shoulders. "Looks like he can handle himself in a fight. Maybe forty, dark blond hair, gray eyes. Looks like he does alright with the ladies, if you know what I mean," he added, tipping her a wink. "Why? You interested?"
"Something like that," she said faintly, ignoring the men as they chuckled. She returned to her work with the horse, but she felt like her mind was a thousand miles away. English accent, blond, gray eyes, a storyteller… that was DeBeers' description, she'd swear by it. Was it possible that he'd resurfaced after all this time? Was he really as close as the pub in the closest village? Why, that was barely ten minutes' ride from here. Had he really been hiding out so close? She felt a shock of anger burn through her, more powerful than anything she'd felt in the last month. Had Kieran encountered him? Had he been hiding this from her? Well, she was going to find out one way or another, she thought grimly. This was a lead – a concrete lead, a description, a place and a time. He couldn't refuse to investigate this. Could he?
The day passed agonizingly slowly. It felt like her whole body was itching as she waited with limited patience for Kieran to return from his patrol. She was deeply worried he'd be staying out overnight, as had been his habit these last few days – he was always apologetic, of course, but that didn't stop him doing it again and again. If she had to wait to tell him about DeBeers she might just die of impatience.
But thankfully, she heard the sound of the gates opening just before nightfall, from where she'd been sitting on the steps of the castle, lost in thought about the best way to go about recapturing DeBeers. There was Kieran, his enormous silhouette unmistakable on the back of the chestnut horse he always chose to ride – part draft horse, it did the best job of supporting his huge frame, all the heavier with the addition of weapons and armor. She could tell by the lines of his body that he was exhausted from the day's work, and the guards with him looked similarly miserable… still, she found it hard to be patient as he dismounted, standing for a long moment in conversation with the stablehand who came running up to take his horse from him. God, he was so slow. DeBeers could be getting away right now, and all he could do was stand there chatting with a stablehand?
She calmed herself down, taking a few deep breaths as she walked deliberately slowly across the courtyard to greet him. The smile he gave her was genuine, but clearly distracted, and he rubbed his face with his hands as he greeted her. The two of them, though they knew word had spread among the servants about their relationship, were still careful about not performing any overt public displays of affection out and about where they could be observed… and if she was honest, at the moment she wasn't interested in kissing him.
She wanted to ta
lk shop.
Chapter 20
“Dinner?” she suggested brightly, knowing better than to try bringing up a sensitive subject like DeBeers before he'd had anything to eat. He smiled again, still distracted, and nodded wearily. The two of them headed inside and took their usual table. Kieran tilted his head thoughtfully, looking at her closely across the table.
"You seem different," he observed after a long pause. "Do you have news?"
"Maybe," she said, a little annoyed with herself for not hiding it better. She didn't want to bring DeBeers up like this – she wanted to hold on until Kieran had relaxed a little, gotten some food into his stomach. Still, he was gnawing on a breadroll as he watched her expectantly – she supposed that would have to do. "I was helping out in the stables today," she started, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. "And I overheard them talking about a new storyteller in the village."
"Is that so?" he asked neutrally.
"Yes. Apparently he's new in the area, he's on good terms with the bandits, and – get this – he's got an English accent."
But Kieran just looked at her blankly. "Englishmen aren't so uncommon in these parts."
"No, I mean –" Her eyes widened. Had he really forgotten about DeBeers completely? He'd spent so much time reassuring her that he'd keep an eye out, that the jewel thief was on his mind… "Dark blond hair, gray eyes, tall – remind you of anyone?"
That did it. Recognition flared in his eyes, finally – and a hearty dose of suspicion, too, a look that made her heart clench. "Oh. It's your jewel thief, do you think?"
"Yes, it's my jewel thief," she said drily, keeping control of her temper.
He was just tired, that was all – tired and a little bit slow. Once he caught up, he'd realize what good news this was, what a good opportunity it was to track down one of the criminals that were loose in the countryside… she just had to be patient.
"Damon DeBeers. He's resurfaced."
"Maybe," Kieran corrected her, his expression closing over. "There are plenty of Englishmen around in Scotland, Sarah. This one isn't necessarily –"
"Of course he is!" she exploded, feeling her overused patience finally snap after a long day of waiting and willing herself to stay calm. "It's him. He's resurfaced. I've got a concrete lead. Kieran, can we go and investigate?"
But he was already shaking his head, and she felt the frustration burning and snapping in her. "Sarah, I simply don't have the time or the manpower to spare –"
"Of course you do!" she said, trying to keep her voice from echoing off the walls of the dining hall – they were already drawing curious looks from other tables. "You just don't want to go and catch him because you don't care about my case."
"Of course I care," he said, but the hard look in his eyes wasn't reassuring her. "But the fact is, the man hasn't committed any crime we know of on Scottish soil –"
"Don't be stupid," she snapped – and this time she saw real anger in his eyes. Well, too late to backtrack now – she surged ahead, reckless, angry and desperate, the frustration of waiting this long speeding her voice. "DeBeers is a criminal through and through. He's already associating with bandits and thieves – who's to say he isn't helping them in other ways, too? I promise you, Kieran, as long as this guy's around, it's bad news for law abiding citizens. We have to catch him. You have to catch him," she added, but Kieran was already looking furious.
"I'm not risking the safety of my men for some obsession you can't let go of," he snarled. "What is this man to you, anyway? Were the two of you lovers or something?"
That stung more than she'd expected. She could tell he regretted saying it from the look on his face — but she wasn't interested in hearing his apology. "Right," she said, her voice cold. "Because the only reason I could possibly be interested in a man is romance, right? I'm just a silly woman – what would I know about solving crimes, pursuing criminals? Never mind my fifteen year career in law enforcement, oh no –"
"Sarah, I didn't mean –"
"I'm going to bed," she snapped, rising to her feet fast enough to knock the bench out from under her. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the dining hall, ignoring the curious looks of bystanders, feeling like she was about to either cry or scream or drive her fist right through the castle wall. Instead, she walked calmly and slowly all the way up the stairs and along the corridor to her room. She closed the door neatly behind her, sat down on the bed, lifted her pillow to her face and screamed into it as loudly as she could.
Then, she turned to her wardrobe, a grim certainty settling into her mind. If you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.
With the decision made, everything suddenly felt icy, crystal clear. She settled onto her bed for a while, thinking through her plan. She'd wait until later in the evening, when it was properly dark, after the gate was shut and locked for the evening. Thankfully, the gate wasn't the only way out of the castle… not if you'd been exploring the various nooks and crannies of the castle walls like she had. She knew her way around – knew several narrow routes out of the castle. She wouldn't be able to take a horse, of course, as had been her original plan… but that was fine. Going by foot was better than not going at all.
And she knew that if she stayed here, DeBeers would never see justice. That was worth a long walk in the cold night.
Her plan made, she got to her feet and opened her wardrobe. There, hanging up, was a thick winter cloak – a gift from Edith, who'd worried about her getting cold late at night. She'd had no call to wear the thick garment, as she'd spent precious little time outside the castle when it wasn't dark – but she was glad to have it now. Even in summer, the night was cold, and she had no intention of dying of exposure on the road to the pub where DeBeers was waiting for her. She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, taking a moment to admire the way the thick cloth kept her warm and safe – even a rainstorm wouldn't stop it from protecting her. She almost wished she could thank Edith… but she knew she couldn't risk breathing a word of her plan to any of the women in case they decided to stop her.
She felt guilty, breaking her promise to Maria. That was the only thing that made her hesitate as she pulled her satchel from beneath the clothes it was hidden under, checking methodically through the contents to make sure everything was still there – the long-lasting food rations, the knife, the rope… Maria would be furious when she found out, she knew that. She might be doing permanent damage to their friendship. But what choice did she have? DeBeers was out there. She'd never forgive herself if she didn't go after him right here, right now – didn't take this fleeting opportunity to end things, once and for all.
And once the local area was safe from DeBeers, she could start thinking about repairing her relationships with her new friends… and with Kieran. Though as angry as she was right now, she wasn't sure she cared one jot about how Kieran felt about her. Served him right, all of this, for ignoring the lead she'd brought him, for treating her like some silly girl with a hobby, not a professional with years of experience tracking criminals. How much earlier could she have caught DeBeers if he'd only trusted her insights?
She waited until the castle was asleep. It was easy, now that she was set on her course of action, to simply sit in quiet contemplation, letting the time pass. When the last of the voices outside had faded and she could tell by the quiet that everyone in Castle Dunscaith was asleep, she pulled her cloak around her shoulders, swung her satchel across her back, and crept through the door. She'd written a brief note explaining where she was, too, in case anyone worried about her and came to see her in her room… the note was motivated, too, by the grim possibility that something might happen to her out there. She wanted her friends to have some closure, at least, if she was never seen again…
That isn't going to happen, she told herself firmly, heading down the stairs of the castle towards the great entrance hall. She was going to catch DeBeers and bring him back to the castle to see justice. That was the beginning and end of the plan. And if he tried
anything… well, she knew for a fact that he didn't know how to use a sword. She did… and she had a wickedly sharp knife in her bag, too, that should give her the upper hand in any physical confrontation. She could do this. She'd handled worse, in her time.
It was easy enough to slip through a small gate in the opposite wall to the main gates. She barred the gate behind her, feeling a shiver run down her spine as she turned to look out across the moors she found herself standing on – a view she'd only ever seen from her room. It felt strange, being out of the castle so late at night… as though she was standing in a place that she'd never believed was real. Taking a deep breath, she set out across the moors. Her plan was to rejoin the road some distance from the castle, so that she didn't risk being spotted by one of Kieran's guards. Thankfully, the walls were still being manned by a skeleton crew – she could only make out two points of torchlight as she trekked across the moors, and she was fairly confident she hadn't been seen.
Good. Nobody seeing her meant that nobody would come charging out to stop her. She had no intention of being stopped, not now. The night air was cold on her cheeks and she pulled the hood of her cloak up, shivering a little as she picked up her pace in the hopes that her exertion would keep her warm. She had the little map she'd sketched tucked into her satchel, and she knew more or less where she was going – the village wasn't far, maybe twenty minutes on foot, and any apprehension she might have felt at being alone on the road at night in a strange country was almost completely allayed by the burning determination to capture DeBeers.
She should have done this a long, long time ago.
Chapter 21
It was a little worrisome, though, trekking along the road like this. She walked quickly, keeping her head low, feeling a little like she'd used to feel walking the streets of Boston late at night – though a lot more exposed without a firearm at her side in case any strange men decided to try something. Sarah was acutely aware that there were bandits plaguing the area… she only hoped that they weren't bold enough to hunt quarry so close to the castle. After all, the sting of their defeated siege a few weeks ago should still be fresh on their minds. Still, she found herself turning around quickly at every strange sound, every snapping twig in the trees around the road, every strange bird call that she didn't immediately recognize as wildlife, not a man's voice…
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