Chasing Shadows (56 page)

She laughed breathlessly. “Thanks for keeping them leashed.”

Quinn’s boots crunched over the snow as he strode toward them. “It seems everything is squared away, for the most part. The guilty party is being escorted back to the castle as we speak, along with the man we apprehended for further questioning.”

“Do you believe the charges will stick?” Will asked, gingerly working his jaw from side to side.

“Most of them, though for a man with his connections, Dunlivey’s murder will be a mite difficult to pin.”

Will’s shoulders sank a little at that. He at least wanted the man who got to Dunlivey first to
pay
for beating him to it. 

Sarah’s head snapped up, eyes alive with sudden revelation. “Damien said that he wiped Gabriel’s blood off the chest when he fell, and he could still have the handkerchief or cloth that he used to clean up in his room. I know it’s a long shot, but he might not have thought to destroy it.”

Quinn looked interested and surprised. “It ‘tis a stretch, but worth a look.” He dipped his head and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure to work with such a young sleuth.”

Sarah flushed. “Thank you, sir, but it was a lot of teamwork.” She shared a smile with Will.

Quinn ducked his head in gratitude at Will and then snapped his fingers, calling for his men to move out.

Nodding his head toward his horse, Thomas said, “Come on, Son. Let’s get you to my cabin and have someone take a look at you.”

Will grinned meaningfully at Sarah, causing her to blush to the roots of her hair. “I plan to.”

~Chapter 48~

Will was too weak to put up much of a fight when Thomas insisted he ride his horse for the short trek. His silence during the ride to Thomas’ house had Sarah biting her lip in worry as she walked beside the horse. When he had come back from his tussle with Damien, her heart had nearly stopped at the sight of his battered face and bloody clothes.

The instant they arrived, Thomas sent Will into the back room to change out of his soiled shirt, and he emerged minutes later wearing a fresh gray tunic. Sarah hurriedly sat Will down in a chair she scooted near the fire and enlisted Thomas’ help in warming a pail of snow over the flames. Focusing her mind on a task kept her thoughts from wandering to her own guilt and the unnerving look on Damien’s face as they carted him off. She had expected an expression of betrayal, some sign that he loathed her for turning against him, but the look in his eyes had been one of promise: He wasn’t giving up.

She shivered now as she had then at the thought of what that might mean.

Both men seemed to sense her need to keep her hands and mind busy, and Will didn’t protest as she fussed over his wounds. Her mind was so focused that it was several minutes later, when she was removing the pail of water from the fire, before she realized that the small cabin was completely silent except for the shuffling of her own feet.

She glanced at Will in surprise. “Where’s Thomas?”

Will’s cracked lip curved wryly. “He departed shortly after we arrived to oversee Lisandro’s official arrest. You didn’t notice?”

“Oh.” Sarah frowned. “He left us un-chaperoned?”

He shrugged one shoulder and then grimaced. “Thomas trusts us.”

Drawing her brows together in worry over his poorly concealed discomfort, Sarah quickly carted the pail over to him and wrung out the cloth. Will winced as she cleaned up the bruise over his eye with rough movements. Caught up in the task to keep her mind occupied, she had forgotten to be gentle and forced herself to take her time. He had enough bruises already for her to start adding to them with her carelessness.

Gentling her touch, Sarah barely dabbed at the cut on his brow to wipe away the blood. She shook her head at the extent of his injuries and muttered, “I can’t believe you went after him.”

Will’s dark eyes softened, reflecting in their depths the light of the flames. “If I had let him go, we would forever be running from him and his influence. You were the last thing standing between himself and a clean slate, and I knew he would never stop chasing after you.”

Pursing her lips together, Sarah decided not to tell him that a clean slate wasn’t the only reason Damien would continue to pursue her, although his reasons still had her somewhat confused. She knew his feelings for her were genuine, but to what extent, she couldn’t say. At first she had thought that Damien might be falling in love with her, but now she wasn’t sure if what he felt was actual affection for her, or if it was belief that his sins would be cleansed in her presence. Maybe it was a little of both.            

Will reached up to touch her trembling hand. “What are you thinking?” 

She sighed out, “I’m tired of unknowingly being a pawn.” She gently removed his hand and placed it in his lap. “And don’t strain your shoulder,” she admonished quietly, recalling how it had hung limply at his side when the guards carted him back.

She tried to grin, and it wobbled at the edges. “It’s been an interesting day, hasn’t it? Flee a criminal, go on the lamb, solve a series of cold cases, send a man to the gallows.” Sarah looked down quickly, realizing what she had just said. The full impact of Damien’s fate weighed down on her, causing her chest to spasm in pain at the thought of him heading to the execution stand. Because of
her.

She could feel Will’s eyes on her but couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze as she took her time soaking the cloth.

“He’s a murderer, Sarah,” he reminded gently.

She sighed, shoulders sinking. “I know. I just—I guess I wish he wasn’t, is all.” She expelled another breath and reached up to wipe his lip, then thought better of touching his mouth and handed Will the wet cloth. 

“He was a good friend to me,” she said softly as he dragged the fabric carelessly over his mouth, his eyes focused intently on her. “Even if it was under pretense at times,” she thought to add. “I guess it’s just hard to see someone you once considered a friend put in prison and sent to the gallows because of something you did.”

“No, that was his choice, not yours,” Will said firmly. “His choices led him to where he is. You only did what was right.” He tipped his head to catch her eye. “You may have saved other lives by turning him in.”

Sarah nodded meekly, knowing in her heart that he was right but unable to shake the guilt and betrayal she still felt mounting inside of her. She whispered slowly, the words forming in her mind nearly at the same instant she spoke them, “How can you disdain someone and regret ever having met them with your whole being, and then at the same time care for and want a better fate for them? You want
them
to be a better person.”

Angling her head, she met Will’s gaze, her own searching for understanding. “Does that make sense?”  

He dropped the cloth from his mouth, smiling faintly, though it looked more like he was wincing in pain. “Yes, though I can’t see how you could feel that way about that conceited Spaniard.”

Flinching at his words, she said, “You didn’t know him like I did. His father murdered Damien’s mother in front of his eyes and beat him and his sister. And then Isabella died a few years after they ran away from home.”

Sarah turned her gaze to the fire to hide her shimmering eyes. Even after everything that had happened today, she wanted to believe that the Damien she’d laughed and smiled with was still in there somewhere. The wounded man that she had offered comfort to and instantly jumped in to defend when his character was threatened—he wasn’t the same man who had claimed Edith’s life.

Shaking her head at her own tangled and confused train of thought, Sarah said slowly, as though just coming to the realization herself, “In a way I understood him and his actions, strange as it sounds.” She looked back at Will to find his pinched gaze trained on her, hanging on her every word with curios apprehension. “What he did was wrong, and he’ll pay for that. But a part of me sees a little boy who grew up the only way he knew how: Alone.”

She exhaled a heavy breath. “I see now that all the wealth and social standing he attained through his allegiance with Cadius was to fill the void in his life, at whatever cost.”

“Sounds selfish,” Will observed matter-of-factly.

“Sounds lonely,” she murmured. Sarah took the cloth from his hands and went back to dabbing at his brow, caressing his bruised lid with the corner of her thumb. “I just can’t believe he had me so fooled. I feel like such an idiot for believing his lies, though I think it was some of the half truths mixed in that kept me from questioning him.”

With a sudden mirthless laugh, Sarah dropped the soiled rag into the bucket and stared at the ground, shoulders sagging. “I guess I did question him, but I never let myself see who he truly was—maybe I already knew somehow and didn’t want to be disappointed.”

“People only see what they are prepared to see,” Will remarked softly. “And you weren’t wholly wrong about him.” It sounded like the admission pained him. She met his earnest gaze. “He never hurt you, Sarah, and it’s obvious that his interest in you lies in more than your involvement in the investigation. Perhaps you provided the friendship and fulfillment he had been unable to find in his life.”

Sarah watched him, heart swelling with gratitude even as she was hesitant to believe his words. “Maybe.”

Her lips turned down as she stared at Will’s face. She had thought removing some of the blood would make his injuries look less severe, but his eye was still purple-green, his mouth and brow split from repeated blows, and whenever he blinked, his right eyelid barely moved, sagging practically closed on its own. The two men had fought and she’d nearly lost Will because of it.

Tears of exhaustion filled her eyes, and she suddenly felt like kicking Damien for hurting him and slapping Will across the face for taking off without her.

“Why did you leave me behind?” she asked suddenly, her emotions spinning out of control, fear and anger and sadness whipping into one tangled mass of emotion. “Were you just going to leave me behind to take the rap?”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You didn’t actually believe . . . Oh, Sarah.“ He raised his hand to touch her face, but she jerked back from his reach.

She had only wondered at the possibility for a second, but the feeling of abandonment still caused her chest to ache, even in light of the comfort he had just provided. “How was I supposed to know that? You just took off and I didn’t know what to do, and I wasn’t sure you’d come back.” Her words came out sounding jumbled and choked, and she felt a sob building as every emotion from the last twenty-four hours came crashing down on her at once. She felt on the verge of hysteria and pressed her palms against her eyes to hold the tears at bay.

“But I’m fine—”

She jerked her hands away. “You can’t
see
yourself!” Her voice rose on the last word, spilling out on the tail end of a distraught laugh. Eyes filling, she barely managed in a choked whisper, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Will’s face twisted in pain. This time when he pulled her into his arms, she didn’t fight him. She crawled into his lap, and his kindness and sympathy were her undoing. She collapsed against him, letting him hold her as she cried, anguished sobs racking her body.

“I heard my uncle’s whistle that he uses when we hunt and knew that he would vouch for you,” he whispered apologetically. “It was my only chance to stop Lisandro, but I’m sorry I left you.”

Sarah shook her head against his chest and then recalled the gash over his heart. “Y-your wound,” she stammered, pushing away weakly.

He tightened his hold, drawing her head back to his chest and cradling it there in his large hand. “The bleeding has ceased, and I’ll have Thomas look at it later. But for now, it’s fine.” 

Sniffing, Sarah shifted her head to his shoulder and released a shuddering breath. She trembled in his arms, feeling comforted by his warmth at the same time that she wanted to push away and cry in solitude.

Will kissed the top of her head and stroked his fingers soothingly through her hair. “I’m sorry you feel guilty, love, but the Spaniard doesn’t deserve your sympathy. He made his bed, and now he has to lie in it.” 

Picturing Damien’s face brought on a slew of other images, all connected to him, and she experienced afresh the emotions she’d felt in each instance—her anguish as she hunched over Edith’s body after Damien shot her, the childlike joy she had felt that day in the snow with him, her concern over Damien as he fought the seizures his father’s cruelty had caused.

Then she recalled her inner warmth in the instances of his compassion, and the constant reminder of the heart-shattering pain she had felt upon discovering his betrayal. And she was faced with her desire, one she felt even now, to justify the desperation of a broken, unloved boy searching for his place in the world.  

Sarah squeezed her eyes tight, desiring oblivion as the onslaught of emotions left her feeling drained and teary-eyed. It seemed that it was all connected to Damien, even her search for the king’s killer. Everything led back to him.

She bit back tears of grief and compassion and anger. “He just wanted for someone to care,” she whispered brokenly, her voice hitching on a sob. “To love him.”

Though Will’s hand never faltered as it stroked her hair, she felt his body stiffen. “And do you?” His words were so soft that she barely heard them. Then again, maybe he hadn’t meant to speak the question aloud in the first place.

Body shaking, she let the tears fall in earnest, silent drops of anguish coursing down her cheeks. Unable to bury the regret, she buried her face into his chest instead. “No,” she fairly moaned. “I c-care about him, but I couldn’t—I wanted to . . . make him feel loved, but . . .” She felt the tension leave Will’s body at her answer, and she realized he had been dreading a different response.

Recalling her reaction to Damien the instances where he cornered her or was near in a dark passageway, Sarah closed her eyes. She was suddenly overwhelmed with relief that she had never examined her confused feelings for him or given in to the instinctual desire to return his attentions. But her grief-stricken half reasoned that if she had been a little more attentive and showed him that she did, indeed, care, then maybe Damien . . . Sarah shook her head, knowing it was foolishness.   

“I couldn’t fix him,” she managed regretfully. Turning him in had been the right thing to do, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if they’d had more time, she could have made him see that he
was
loved; he was just looking in the wrong place, to a girl who could never give him her whole heart, even if she wanted to in order to save him.

Will rested his chin atop her head, taking her hand in his own and stroking the back of it with his thumb. His knuckles were bruised and covered in crusted blood where Damien’s sword has slashed them open. Maybe some of it was Damien’s blood. “You aren’t being fair on yourself. What if he doesn’t
want
to be fixed?”