Chasing Shadows (14 page)

Will glared at her. How had they ever been friends? “You ruined everything, you know. She was the one, and you may have destroyed whatever was holding us together.” He invaded her personal space, his face close to hers. Some of her triumph faded, and her throat worked in a swallow, though her face showed almost nothing.

Lowering his voice to a low, taunting growl, he asked, “Does it make you feel good to know that you may have run off the only woman besides my own mother that I’ve ever cared for?” He intentionally excluded her. It was a low blow, and he knew it in the way she flinched at his words. But he was too wound-up to stop. “Will you sleep better at night knowing that I will lie alone for the rest of my days? If you can’t have me, then no one can, is that it?”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” Jade whispered, voice wavering. He had hoped to intimidate her, but he felt no triumph in it as he glimpsed in her face the child he had once known. She placed her hand over his heart. Her fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they slid up and around his neck, trying to pull him closer. Her eyes gleamed possessively once more, desperation apparent in their fathomless depths. “I was doing what’s best for you. For us—”

He’d had enough.

Growling in frustration, Will whipped around, breaking her hold, and jogged down the steps. He was halfway down the block before he heard her quietly latch the door. How could she still be clinging to that fantasy, or was it all a pride issue? She had always needed to win at everything.

He swore under his breath when he realized how much time he had lost in such a worthless conversation. Jade had probably planned on them meeting in the square, and like the fool he was, he had played right into her hands.

Well, his own pride could go to Hades. Robert was right: He needed to fix this and go after Sarah before it was too late.

~Chapter 16~

A soft knock sounded on her bedroom door only a few minutes into her pity party. Sarah jerked her head off of the soft burgundy bedspread, heart hammering in her chest in anticipation and dread as she waited to see if the noise had come from one of the other rooms. The knock sounded again, and this time there was no doubt someone was tapping on her door.

Peeling herself off the bed, she hastily swiped a palm across her reddened cheeks, realizing that she was still holding the rose. She placed it gently on the rumpled covers, being careful of its delicate petals. She felt ridiculous over her tumultuous emotions and told herself—again—that what Will did in his free time wasn’t her concern. And what did it matter that some guy had moved her next door?

Sarah felt sick.

“Who is it?” she called out, her voice cracking. She prayed it wasn’t Damien.

“It is Damien Lisandro, my lady.”

Sarah could have sworn. She hadn’t expected him so soon. Clenching her fists at her sides, she tried to think of something to buy her time—to find a weapon, climb out through the window, scale down the wall to the snowy earth—she didn’t know.

“Give me a minute!” She hoped he couldn’t hear the edge to the words. 

She reached for her naked wrist, suddenly remembering the watch Karen had given her. She had removed it this morning so she didn’t lose it, but where had she put it? She closed her eyes, and a desperate groan escaped her lips when she pictured it safely nestled at the bottom of the trunk in her old room. The trunk that was now empty.

Her eyes snapped open. Edith had said they’d moved her things to this room, and she prayed they hadn’t confiscated it or tossed it out.

Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, please
, Sarah prayed over and over, no other words coming in her desperation. She ran to the wardrobe on the right wall and flung the doors open wide, sifting through the folds of variously colored fabrics, the details of which—and also the fact that it was stocked full of gowns—were completely lost on her as she shoved the dresses aside and scanned the wooden bottom of the small closet. Nothing.

Sarah didn’t bother to close the door as she dashed to the desk, her eyes widening as she took in the four small drawers on each side of the oversized desk: nine in total, including the one in the middle.
Oh, for the love of—!
She started on the left side and ripped the top drawer open, then the next one down, and the next. She finished with that side before moving onto the long, flat drawer in the center of the desk, jerking it open and slamming it closed. She placed her hand on the knob of the next drawer before she registered a muted scrape as the contents of the previous one slid about.

With a startled gasp, she pulled the middle drawer out again and expelled a breath of relief when she saw the watch lying safely inside. Picking it up as though the sturdy mechanism were made of porcelain, Sarah secured it around her wrist. Some of the tension left her body as the light pressure of the watch against her skin served to remind her that she had a means of escape, if it came to that.

Mustering whatever courage she had left, Sarah tipped her chin up as she opened the door, determined that he would never see her broken.

Damien seemed to have been waiting patiently outside, appearing completely at ease as he smiled at her, though it quickly faded to a look of concern as his eyes roved her features. “My lady, have you been crying? Are you ill?”

She felt her face heat, feeling embarrassed that he had so quickly seen the marks of her tears. “I’m fine,” she answered, hating the way her voice became so quiet; it only made her sound weaker.

He tipped his head to the side, assessing her. Sarah would have thought the action looked cocky had it not been for the look of warmth and concern in his eyes. “I’m a fairly good listener.”

She shook her head, feeling uncomfortable that she felt so, well,
comfortable
in his presence. “No thanks.”

Damien smiled softly when she didn’t offer up any further information. She was surprised at the genuine look on his face, but she still wasn’t sure if she could trust him . . . or herself.

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked.

Sarah was taken aback that he would let her so easily dismiss him. She told herself not to be fooled by his kindness and respect for her privacy, or the way eyes the color of gold-flecked espresso watched her, and she definitely was not going to be fooled by his handsome features. She was smarter than that.

Folding her arms tightly across her chest like body armor, she asked, “What are you doing here, Damien? Better yet, why am
I
here?”

He seemed pleased that she had remembered his name, and Sarah silently reprimanded herself for giving her captor any satisfaction. “I was hoping that we might get to know one another better.”

It sounded innocent enough the way he said it, but Sarah knew better. Righteous anger flared up at what he was implying.

She took a step closer to him, though she was still tempted to run away with her tail between her legs. Straightening her body to reach her full height, she unfolded her arms and clenched her hands into fists at her sides. “If you actually think that by throwing out a few compliments and playing the role of gentleman, I’m just going to roll over and play along, well”—she jabbed a finger into his chest and managed not to wince as her appendage bent against lean muscle—“then you better think twice about messing with me, pal.” She tried to look tough, though she knew her eyes were too wide and her voice quavered too much for her to appear threatening.

Damien looked completely shocked at her outburst. “You couldn’t possibly believe that I—” His face relaxed, and his sudden chuckle threw her. He reached for the hand that was still poking him in the chest and then released it without a fight when she tried to wriggle free. “Oh, my lady, I’m so terribly sorry. What you must think of me!” He shook his head and pulled at his collar as if he was suddenly very warm. “It’s simply that with my injury and you being my caretaker—that is to say, I felt very at ease in your presence and requested that you be moved nearby to help me improve. To save us both time.”

Sarah was sure she couldn’t look more confused. “Wait, so you didn’t move me up here for . . .” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. To Damien’s credit, he looked embarrassed as his eyes shifted around the room, though she was sure it was nothing compared to her mortification. What a complete idiot she had been! But though she felt like a total fool, she couldn’t have been more relieved.

A giggle of relief bubbled up from her stomach, and Damien’s eyes snapped up when she couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. “That’s great to hear!”

The surprise and embarrassment ebbed from his features as his face relaxed once more, and he even chuckled a little. “You looked like a fierce kitten ready to paw me to death if I touched you.”

“Hey, I’m tougher than I look.” She glared at him and received a laugh for her look of death. Grinning, she shrugged. “It usually works better on yarn balls and bowls of milk.”

Damien gave her a slow, heart-melting smile that Janice would have swooned over. His dark brows rose on his forehead. “Who knew you had the ability to jest? I thought you could only glower at me.”

Sarah laughed, feeling a little euphoric in her relief. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a temper too, so you might want to think twice about crossing me.”

That smile was still in place, and his dark eyes gazed into her own with a familiarity that he didn’t possess, but somehow it was so sincere that Sarah wondered if maybe he understood her better than she thought. “You have a beautiful laugh, my lady.”

She swallowed and shuffled her feet, feeling suddenly self-conscious. His expression was so genuine that Sarah couldn’t tell if it was a line or not. “I’m nobody’s lady,” she murmured, repeating the words she had spoken to Edith. Trying to steer the conversation into safer territory, she said, “Speaking of which, why did you ask them to lay me off? I mean, I could just stay here and be a servant at the same time.”

Damien appeared younger as he fidgeted awkwardly, appearing shy and very boyish for someone in his mid-twenties. “In all honesty, I wanted to know you better, and this was the best way I could think of to do it. I know it was presumptuous of me to think that you would prefer a . . . higher life, but I felt that—” He looked so confused and nervous that Sarah felt herself softening as she waited for the rest of his explanation.

Expelling a heavy sigh, he looked at the ground as he spoke. “I can’t honestly say why I felt the need to release you from servitude after only having just met you, but”—his gaze found hers, and she swallowed at what she saw there—“I saw you like an angel come to save me right after I had been stabbed, and you tended to my wound and were so kind. I have not seen compassion like that in many years.” Sarah cringed as she recalled how she had slapped the cloth to his gash when he aggravated her.

“You don’t belong in servitude, scrubbing floors and pounding rugs,” he continued, his expression sincere and magnetizing. “Forgive me for saying so, but you appear like you belong here as much as I do. We are both fish out of the lake, you might say, and I desired to set you free. You were made for more; I felt this when I first saw you.” Damien shrugged shyly. “I know how strange it must seem, but I admit my hope was that we might become . . . friends.”

So she wasn’t the only one who felt the odd connection between them. Sarah made a conscious effort to keep her mouth closed. His honesty was far too disarming for her comfort level, though that
was
one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said and done for her. She glanced over at the rose on the bed and grinned at him to cover the soft smile caused by the fluttering in her stomach. “Do you give all your friends flowers?”

He returned her grin, going along with the change in mood. “Only the most special ones who can withstand the sight of open wounds and blood.”

“Well, I
did
have to leave the room,” she reminded him, “but I’ll still accept the rose.” They smiled at each other, the watch on her wrist completely forgotten. Sarah could deal with playful and sarcastic, but it was odd to think that a near stranger would do so much for her. It was also incredibly flattering, and she wondered at him having so quickly disarmed her.

“Ah!” Damien exclaimed suddenly. “I nearly forgot my purpose for calling. I wanted to see how you are settling in.”

“Well, I’ve been here for about twenty minutes, so things are good so far.” She quirked a brow. “Anything else?”

He motioned to his injured arm, crooked safely against his side. “I am also in need of some new dressings, and I believe I still require your assistance with that.”

Sarah’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, Damien. You should have told me sooner. What do you need me to get you?”

He gasped, feigning a look of shock as he pressed a hand to his chest. “You sound as though you care about my health, my lady.”

She balked at him and then rolled her eyes, contemplating giving him a playful shove, but she felt uncomfortable touching him so soon in their new “friendship.”

“As your nurse I’m required to care, so tell me what I need to do.”

Damien grinned, and she found that his face was even more handsome when he smiled.
But barely
, she amended. “Do you have any new dressings and the poultice?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, glancing over the room.

He nodded. How did he manage to look amused and carefree all the time? “I had them put some pieces of fresh cloth in your trunk for this purpose, but I’m afraid I didn’t ask them to make the poultice beforehand.”

Sarah frowned. “Oh. Do you happen to know what’s in it?”

Shaking his head, Damien answered, “I’m afraid I do not. Would you like me to ask someone?”

She considered it for a moment before waving her hand in the air. “You’re the invalid; I’m the nurse. I’ll go find out.”

She bustled past him like a woman on a mission and then paused just outside the doorway. Turning back around, she caught Damien’s grin and shot him an embarrassed grimace. “Um, where would I go to do that, exactly?”

She was grateful that he didn’t tease her about the out-of-place girl trying to play the role of the independent, self-assured woman. “You will have to find the alchemist for the proper herbs,” he said.

Sarah sighed. “Super.” Heading down the hall, she muttered sarcastically, “I guess I’m off to see the wizard.”

—

Sarah shivered as she descended the cold stone staircase, her apprehension as much to blame for her shaking as the cold itself. She clenched her jaw as she crept downward, mindful of where she stepped in the near darkness, as if a wrong move or noise could disturb the dead from their slumber.

Her fear was unwarranted, but the only time she had been this far underground was to visit the dungeons, and that experience had not been a pleasant one. This time Sarah felt none of the curiosity she’d experienced when she and Will had slipped into the dungeons to see Karen. Sarah remembered her face—tear-streaked and dirty, but eyes bright with hope when she saw the two of them—and cringed at the memory of Karen’s imprisonment. How many days had she been trapped down there? Five? Six? Sarah’s stomach knotted at the very thought, and in the end, she hadn’t even been able to save her friend.