The Secrets of Shadows

by Waite, Tabetha

  Instantly, the dark eyes before her lit with new interest. “Ah, indeed.” His gaze raked her body unabashedly. “So you’re the filly who has been monopolizing all of our Brother’s time.” He took a slow drink, looking at her over the rim. “I can’t say that I blame him.” He smiled slowly. “So tell me, what is it that you desire? Is Blackburn not doing his job to please you, for I can guarantee you will find enjoyment aplenty here.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Cosette returned. “But I’m afraid that isn’t why I’m here. I have a proposition for you.”

  She hesitated, so he waved a hand. “Go on.”

  She took a deep breath. It was time for another truth. “I understand that you have a girl imprisoned here by the name of Charlotte Kingsbury. She was a tavern maid at The Lion’s Share. She’s a young Scottish woman with red hair and a heavy accent. There’s no mistaking her.”

  He rubbed the tip of his index finger around the edge of his glass. “Where did you come by this information? Did Blackburn tell you?”

  “I can assure you he did not, but my source shall remain anonymous.”

  He grinned. “How valiant of you.” He clasped his hands over his midsection and regarded her in all seriousness. “So what is it that you want? Shall it be money for your silence?”

  “No.” A dark brow lifted at her denial. “But I do propose an exchange. Me, for Charlotte.”

  His indifferent demeanor had returned. “I’m afraid negotiations within the Order are not so easy, m’dear. I know the woman with whom you refer, and she is part of the initiates for our spring ceremony. I’m afraid that I can’t part with her.”

  Cosette knew she was losing him. Her chance to free Charlotte and contain her personal demon behind these stone walls was slipping away. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

  “Do you now?” His voice deepened. “Taking another man’s mistress is rather frowned upon among gentlemen. Blackburn will be difficult to deal with if I were to agree. However,” he added, “if I were to reconsider, what would you give me for my generosity?”

  Cosette knew he was expecting some sort of lewd offer, but she had come prepared. If she knew anything about the gentry and nobility alike, they enjoyed their coin as much as their . . . pursuits.

  She tossed a bag of guineas on the table between them. He didn’t even glance at it, but narrowed his eyes. “You’re rather persuasive, Miss du Bouir. Tell me, how did you come by so much coin?”

  “It was a loan.”

  “From?” he prodded.

  She crossed her arms. “A friend.” In reality, she had taken it from Davien’s coach. She knew that he kept extra coin under the seat for emergencies. She’d heard him discussing it with Quinn one day when they thought she wasn’t around. She thought the information might come in handy someday.

  “So you are willing to trade yourself for Miss Kingsbury, as well as pay for her release in the bargain?”

  “That is correct.”

  He reached out and pocketed the money, and then rose to his feet. “It seems you and I have an accord.”

  “I beg to differ.” Davien’s firm, commanding voice came from directly behind her. “That coin you just tucked away is mine, Dashwood, so it would appear that your bargain is with me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette held her breath as the Abbot appeared to consider his chances of winning this battle. She could almost feel the strength emanating off of Blackburn, as well as the violent savagery. It dripped from him like droplets of water, coating the air around them like a raging fog.

  “You would dare disrupt the Order?” Dashwood nearly crooned. “There are penalties for disobedience.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Davien returned evenly. “But I’m willing to take that chance.”

  “Are you? How interesting.” Dashwood seemed to consider his options in the tapping of his finger against a thigh. Finally, he said, “Very well. If that is your choice, then I will have to consider you a traitor to the Order. You will be imprisoned in the catacombs to await sentencing, and any further access to the archives will be denied.”

  “Davien, no!” Cosette cried, turning to the duke. His jaw was clenched so hard that she was surprised that it didn’t break. “Please, don’t do this. It was my decision to come here.”

  His eyes gleamed as they glared at her, the beast yearning to break free and lay waste to everything around it. “A fact I have yet to understand fully, madam.”

  Cosette cringed. Each word he uttered was clearly enunciated. After her betrayal he may never forgive her. It broke her heart to even consider it, but the alternative was even worse, that the locket might consume her and cause the end of his life.

  She could bear his hatred, but not his death.

  She laid a gentle hand on his cheek and spoke softly, “This is for the best. I know it is. Charlotte can go free, and I won’t cause you any more harm.” She glanced at his shoulder, where she knew his wound was already healing. “When I saw Quinn’s knife come down, I thought . . . that was it. I can’t go through that again. All you can do now is let me go. Return to the archives. Find a way to end this.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien looked into Cosette’s dark eyes and found that he was torn, right down the middle. When he was assured that Quinn was stable, he’d left his side to find that Cosette was missing. He’d nearly torn apart the house looking for her, feeling the same overwhelming panic he’d experienced that night in London when she’d disappeared. After that, he’d flown out across his estate, but there was nothing, not a single sign that she had even existed. The sheer terror in that moment nearly consumed him, until he felt it. The slightest nudge of her presence. He’d instantly followed it, praying that he could reach her before the locket took her away again—this time for good.

  The shock that had struck him to find that her small beacon of light had led him here, to this pit of darkness and damnation, had nearly sickened him.

  Now, he couldn’t believe he was actually considering this asinine plan of hers, but while he hated to admit it, she was right. He still had two more volumes of Solomon to review. It was the closest he’d ever come to an answer for this twisted puzzle. If he was barred from the archives now, then it was all over.

  For both of them.

  Without taking his gaze from Cosette, he spoke to Dashwood. Every syllable was like a crescendo of pain contorting his gut, his heart, his very soul. “She’s all yours.”

  “A smart decision, Blackburn,” Dashwood replied, the satisfaction in his voice causing the beast to rise up and prepare to pounce. It was only with a sheer, iron force of will that Davien kept it from acting on the impulse, when all he wanted to do was unleash the creature and ravage this entire place, shake the very foundation to the ground.

  That red-robed arm extended to Cosette, which she accepted. “This way, m’dear.”

  Davien’s throat was raw, aching with emotion, burning with the need to remove Dashwood’s filthy hands from her. He had to clench his hands into fists at his sides to keep from moving, acting. His eyes never once strayed from the back of Cosette’s dark hair. He could still feel the silkiness, the times he’d run his hands through those long strands. He remembered the taste of her smooth skin, the sound of her harsh breathing when he brought her to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

  And how he’d felt inside of her—pure bliss.

  He vowed right then, that no matter what he had to do, how many oceans he had to cross, or how many mountains he had to traverse, how many enemies he would have to face, or how much heartache he would have to suffer without her in his arms as the minutes ticked by like hours, they would be together again.

  Before she disappeared from sight, Cosette turned her head to the side, but didn’t look at him. “Take care of Charlotte.”

  And then she was g
one.

  ~ ~ ~

  Cosette hadn’t been able to risk a final glance at Blackburn. She closed her eyes temporarily to commit to memory the reason she was condemning herself to this hell. The thick, almost blue-black hair, the dark hypnotizing eyes, that towering frame, and even the swirling presence of the beast was forever burned into her heart.

  She wanted to cry, to weep and wail at the sheer torment of it all, but that would do no good. She had to be strong. Or else, die trying.

  Dashwood stopped before a single, wooden door, along a row of many. How many occupants were behind each personal cell, she didn’t know, only that she prayed that Mrs. Woodard had been right, and Charlotte was indeed in one of them.

  The Abbot produced a key, which he inserted into the lock. After a slight reluctance, it turned and the door swung open. Cosette couldn’t hold back a sob as a familiar figure was revealed. She was sitting on a cot, her red hair was a mess of tangles around her head, her dress torn and covered with grime, but Charlotte was alive and well, and that’s all that mattered.

  The girl lifted her head and blinked against the glare of the outer light. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, they lit on Cosette with hopeful recognition. “Cosette? Is it truly ye?” Her words were whispered, as if she dared to even speak aloud.

  “Yes, Charlotte, it’s me.” Cosette swallowed over the lump in her throat. “I’m here to free you.”

  Tears filled Charlotte’s green eyes and spilled over, coursing down her cheeks. In the next instant she was on her feet, her arms thrown across Cosette’s shoulders. “Praise be to God.” The girl grabbed her hand and started to pull Cosette toward the door where the Abbot stood in silence, watching, waiting. “Let’s get out o’ ‘ere.”

  “I’m not going with you, Charlotte.”

  Her friend’s mouth dropped. “You canna mean t’ stay ‘ere!” she hissed.

  Cosette kept her face impassive. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Charlotte’s jaw went slack even further, if that were possible. “I’ve made arrangements with the Duke of Blackburn regarding your release. He will assist you in whatever way—”

  Charlotte held up a hand. “Wait. You’re not going t’ say that ye . . . are tradin’ yerself for me?”

  “I have my reasons,” Cosette said quietly.

  “No.” Charlotte shook her head, that fierce Scottish temper bursting forth. “I willna stand for it! Ye canna do this!”

  The Abbot finally interceded. With a firm grip on Charlotte’s arm, he dragged her from the room. “It’s already done.”

  The door slammed shut.

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien was pacing the floor of the hall, waiting for Dashwood to return with Charlotte. What he hadn’t been expecting was a bright red-haired spitfire who yanked her arm out of Dashwood’s grasp and stalked over to him. Her green eyes were radiating hatred. “Are ye Blackburn?” she snapped.

  “I am.”

  Crack! The slap she set across his cheek was delivered with enough force that it caused his head to snap back.

  “How dare ye even think t’ exchange Cosette’s life for mine? She is the strongest woman I know. You’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “It wasn’t my choice to make,” Davien returned with a low growl.

  She whipped her head to indicate Dashwood who was watching the exchange with an amused smirk. “Ye’re part o’ this perverted group o’ miscreants, ain’t ye?”

  “Be careful,” Davien snarled. “Unless you want to spend another night here.”

  To his profound relief, she kept any further opinions to herself.

  “Good luck with that one, Blackburn,” Dashwood drawled. “Rest assured I shall keep your lovely Cosette perfectly safe and sound until the initiation. After that . . .” He shrugged, letting his words trail off.

  Davien whirled, grabbing Charlotte’s hand and towing her after him. He didn’t even respond to the bait for fear that the beast would react instead. Since Davien had transformed into the crow on his way to the Abbey, they were forced to try and track down a hackney, since Quinn was still recovering.

  They remained silent until Davien finally succeeded in gaining hired transportation. But as soon as he gave the driver his direction and he was settled across from Charlotte, she crossed her arms and glared at him. “What did ye mean it wasn’t yer choice t’ make about Cosette?”

  “Exactly what I said,” he returned evenly. He turned his head to look out the window. He was finished with this conversation. He didn’t appreciate being attacked and not so subtly accused of abandoning Cosette to the hands of the Order. If it had been up to him, he would have two women in this carriage and nothing but carnage in his wake. As it was, he intended to return to the Abbey to scour the rest of the Solomon books as soon as he figured out what to do with the charming Miss Kingsbury.

  “Are ye taking me back t’ the workhouse?”

  That, he could answer. “No. I’m taking you to Shadowlawn, my estate.”

  “Is it haunted, like they say?” She tilted her head to the side, her angst fading in the face of her curiosity.

  He snorted. “Only by me.”

  Her expression turned puzzled, but he didn’t bother to elaborate, turning his attention back to the passing scenery. Even if she chose to believe his claims that he was cursed she would most certainly run screaming if he dared to prove it. And since he didn’t care to scare the wits out of Cosette’s closest friend, he kept silent.

  “Ye’re in love with her, ain’t ye?”

  He shifted his gaze back to her. “You ask too many questions.” In truth, her query had disturbed him more than he was willing to admit.

  She relaxed against the seat behind her. “Ye dinna have t’ answer me. I can read it all over yer face.”

  Davien glared at her, but she closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he kept any further musings to himself.

  Chapter 20

  As Cosette sat on Charlotte’s abandoned cot, with only the dim light of a sputtering candle, she wondered how Charlotte and Davien were getting along. Both of them had a tendency to be entirely too stubborn, so she imagined sparks might fly before they finally settled down into a companionable acquaintance.

  At least, she hoped that would be the case. She didn’t want two of her closest friends, her only allies, to be at odds with one another.

  Not when there was so much to lose if they didn’t find a way to work together.

  Her freedom, for example.

  She sighed. She had no idea how long she might be down here, for she wasn’t even sure when this spring ritual would even take place. At least she didn’t have to worry about the voice returning and making her do something she would regret. Locked in this room, at least she could be confident that her secrets would remain her own.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, she heard a noise outside of her door, right before it opened to reveal the Abbot. She tensed, for without Davien here to remind the other Brothers that she was currently spoken for, she wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “I thought you might like to know that Miss Kingsbury and Blackburn left a short time ago.”

  She gave a brief nod of her head. “Thank you.”

  “You might wish to save your gratitude, for when the initiates are brought before the Order, as the Abbot, I am granted first choice.” She could feel that oily grin caressing her skin. “I intend to select you.”

  Cosette froze. The thought of this man doing to her what she’d allowed from Davien was enough to make her nauseous.

  “I can tell you are resistant to the idea,” he continued evenly, matter-of-fact. “That suits me, as I don’t care for biddable bedmates. It will be my pleasure to bend you to my will.”

  She glared at him. “If y
ou just came here to bait me, you’re wasting your time. I don’t bow down to threats.”

  “Oh, rest assured, it isn’t a threat, but a promise.”

  With one last parting grin, he shut the door, leaving her imprisoned once more.

  ~ ~ ~

  Davien had hoped that he might be free of Charlotte’s incessant meddling, but the moment they walked in the door of Shadowlawn and she took one glance around, she turned to him and asked boldly, “Canna ye no’ afford any servants?”

  “I prefer my privacy.”

  “Then who takes care o’ th’ manor?” she persisted.

  He ignored her, but then glanced up at the sound of a shuffling footstep on the staircase landing. He narrowed his eyes on Quinn, who was standing and clinging to the banister rail. “You shouldn’t be up yet.”

  As he went to meet Quinn, he could sense Charlotte behind him. “Who is this?”

  “My coachman.”

  “So ye do employ servants.”

  Davien grit his teeth. “Only Quinn.”

  Charlotte finally turned her attention to his coachman, and noticed the bandage around his neck. “Whot happened t’ him?”

  “He had an accident,” Davien replied shortly. He looped Quinn’s arm around his shoulders.

  “Canna the man speak fer himself?”

  “No. He’s mute.” He cast a dark glance at Charlotte, as he helped Quinn back to the guest room. “But you seem to do enough talking to make up for his misfortune.”

  She pinched her mouth together in annoyance, but he didn’t care. As soon as he had Quinn settled and Charlotte sent on her way, he was going back to the Abbey.

  The moment Quinn was in his bed, Davien turned to leave.

  “Where are ye going? This man needs care.”