Captive (14 page)

SARAH RUMMAGED THROUGH
her mind, seeking a thought that would distract her in some way. She needed a distraction
because she didn’t want to think about how strange it was to be both looking forward
to and dreading dinner with Tristan. She knew she absolutely should not be looking
forward to dinner with her captor, but every time she thought about the approaching
time when she’d be near him again, her pulse took off like a racehorse out of the
gate. But Sarah also couldn’t rid her mind of the corpses beneath the castle, the
freshly dead bodies equally as horrifying as the long-decayed victims. She meant to
keep her word to Seamus and not tell Tristan about what she’d seen, but the awful
sights had been etched in her mind and continued to haunt her.

Frustrated, Sarah let out a long sigh.

“Are you not happy with this dress?”

Sarah caught Moira’s beaming face in the reflection as the girl finished buttoning
up the gown. Moira met Sarah’s gaze and blushed.

“You look so lovely, miss,” she murmured.

“Thank you, Moira,” Sarah replied, running her palms over the forest-green silk taffeta.
She’d selected a strapless sheath for that evening. “I think that this color would
be even better on you, though. It would make that gorgeous auburn hair of yours absolutely
gleam.”

Moira flushed from her neck to the tips of her ears. “Oh, no, miss. I could never
wear anything so fine.”

“Of course you could.” Sarah turned around to face her. Moira ducked her head and
tried to scoot back, but Sarah took the girl’s hands in her own. “In fact, I think
you should try a dress on right now.”

Moira’s eyes widened. She covered her mouth in horror and shook her head furiously.

“Yes,” Sarah pronounced. “This is what we’re doing. Pick a gown, Moira.”

It took a few more minutes of Sarah standing with her hands on her hips and Moira
offering protests before the girl finally relented and timidly began to search through
the dresses.

“Might I try this one, miss?” With the utmost care, Moira pulled a gown from the armoire.

“Good choice.” Sarah smiled and took the cap-sleeved dress of amethyst brocade out
of Moira’s hands. The gown was beautiful, but its full skirt and princess-seamed bodice
were too traditional for Sarah’s taste. It was perfect for Moira, though—the type
of dress a young girl dreamed about.

Moira smiled, but then bit her lip and looked at Sarah with uncertainty.

“Go on,” Sarah said. “Take off your uniform, and we’ll put this on. If you want privacy,
go to the alcove to change.”

Curtsying as a reflex, Moira giggled and hurried into the alcove. A few minutes later
she emerged still wearing her maid’s cap but dressed only in a plain white slip.

Sarah helped Moira into the gown. It was lucky that Moira had chosen a dress with
a lace-up bodice. The gown wanted a curvier figure, which Moira needed a few years
yet to grow into. Though it wasn’t a perfect fit, Moira’s smile was full of wonder
when Sarah turned her to face the mirror.

“See how beautiful you are.” Sarah squeezed the girl’s shoulders.

Moira blushed, but didn’t reject the compliment out of hand, which Sarah took as a
marked improvement.

“Now, what’s next?” Sarah tapped her finger on her cheek. “I know. Jewelry.”

The frightened look reappeared on Moira’s face, but Sarah shook her head to deter
any objections. Sarah could understand the girl’s reservation. The previous night
Sarah had rejected Moira’s attempts to bedeck her with jewels.

But if they were playing dress-up, Sarah saw no reason to hold back. Though she’d
been a little horrified by its excess when she’d been presented with the armoire that
held jewelry, this time Sarah went to it without hesitation.

She pulled open a velvet-lined drawer that held several necklaces. Moira crept up
beside her.

Not able to hold back her sigh as she gazed down at the glittering array of gemstones,
Sarah said, “I suppose these are all real?”

Moira stared at Sarah as if she didn’t understand the question.

“That’s what I thought,” Sarah said. “Hmmm. I think with that purple shade you should
wear onyx.”

She drew out a teardrop pendant framed by diamonds, as well as matching earrings.
“Put these on.”

Though Moira’s hands shook the whole time, she managed to fasten the necklace and
earrings without dropping any of them.

“Yes.” Sarah nodded her approval. “Those are perfect. Now, you pick mine.”

Grinning suddenly, Moira opened nearly all the drawers before she selected a platinum
and tiger’s eye choker and matching studs for her ears.

“I believe you’ve an eye for this, Moira,” Sarah commented as she finished putting
on the earrings. “Let’s see how we’ve done.”

Sarah took Moira’s hand and led her to the full-length mirror. The moment Moira caught
sight of her reflection, she squealed and began to jump up and down.

“Oh! Oh!”

“Ha!” Sarah clapped in delight. “Now, give us a twirl.”

Moira spun around, her skirt blooming out. Sarah continued to clap, and Moira giggled
as she turned faster and faster. Suddenly Moira’s laughter became a shriek. She stopped
twirling, and Sarah had to catch Moira around the waist to keep the girl from tipping
over.

“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, but she followed Moira’s frightened gaze and found her
answer.

Tristan was standing in the doorway with a bemused expression on his face.

Moira was shaking in Sarah’s arms. “Sir, I’m so sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Hush, Moira,” Sarah whispered. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Moira began to cry.

Sarah threw a pleading look at Tristan.

Awkwardly he came into the room, returning Sarah’s beseeching gaze with a frown.

“Tristan,” Sarah said firmly, “please reassure Moira that you aren’t cross with her.”

Moira sniffled and attempted to curtsy, but since Sarah was still holding the girl,
she almost took them both to the floor.

“I didn’t mean to act beyond my station, Lord Tristan.”

“I— Uh,” Tristan said. “Well, of course you didn’t.”

“Please don’t tell Mrs. Cranston,” Moira begged. “She’ll take the cane to me.”

“Someone beats you?” Sarah exclaimed, then glared at Tristan.
“With a cane?”

“I didn’t know,” he said quickly. “I’ll take care of it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Tristan added, “I’m only here to ask if you’re planning
to join me for dinner.”

Sarah frowned. “What time is it?”

“I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”

Moira wailed, and Tristan held up his hands in alarm. “I’m not angry about it. Please
don’t cry.”

Looking at Moira and Tristan, Sarah realized that the girl was on the verge of hysterics
while the man frozen in the doorway was beginning to panic.

Sarah leaned down and whispered, “Moira, calm down and take your time to change and
go about your tasks for the evening. I’m going to dinner with Tristan. I promise that
nothing bad will come of this.”

Moira whimpered, but she nodded.

“All right, then.” Sarah released the girl and grabbed Tristan’s elbow to draw him
out of the room. She stopped to close the door, to be sure Moira had a quiet space
in which to recover.

“Dinner, then?” Sarah said stiffly, and moved toward the stairs.

Tristan followed her, remaining silent until they reached the dining hall. The first
course was already laid out.

Sarah took her place before Tristan could pull out the chair for her. She stared at
the mixed greens on her plate, realizing she hadn’t a smidge of appetite.

“You look lovely,” Tristan said quietly.

Shaking her head, Sarah murmured, “Don’t.”

“Don’t give you compliments?” Tristan frowned.

“Don’t talk,” Sarah replied. “I’m not ready to talk to you yet.”

“Are you angry with me?” The furrow in his brow deepened.

Sarah shifted her angry gaze from her plate to Tristan. “Of course I’m angry. You
allow your servants to be beaten?”

Tristan reached for his wineglass. “I told you I didn’t know about that, and I’ll
put a stop to it. You have my word.”

“How could you not know?” Sarah replied, unwilling to drop the issue. “These people
live with you.”

With a sigh, Tristan said, “The servants don’t interact with me in that way. We rarely
speak.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot,” Sarah said. “You often don’t know their names.”

“No.” Tristan’s voice had taken on an edge. “I don’t befriend my servants, but neither
do I condone their ill treatment.”

“You don’t bother to know how they’re treated,” Sarah countered. “You take them for
granted. For God’s sake, they’re people, Tristan.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Tristan asked. “Why this sudden interest in the servants?
Or is it about the servants at all? Is this just about Moira?”

Sarah opened and closed her mouth, wanting to protest but not finding the words.

Tristan pressed on. “And why was she wearing one of your dresses?”

“Because she’s a young woman who has never had the pleasure of a pretty dress, or
a necklace.” Sarah was horrified to hear her voice quaver. “I don’t think she knows
how to dream of better things. All she knows is this place. Does she even go to school?”

“The servants’ children have tutors,” Tristan said, clearly uncomfortable.

“But they don’t leave the island for their education?” Sarah felt a bit ill. “Do they
have friends?”

“They have each other,” Tristan replied. “You must understand, the positions at Castle
Tierney have been held within families for generations. This place is their way of
life.”

“
You
have to understand how wrong that is,” Sarah argued. “It’s their way of life because
they’ve never been offered anything else. Didn’t you see how terrified Moira was that
you’d be angry? Do you want your servants to feel that way about you? Do you realize
that it’s utterly ludicrous that you have servants at all?”

Sarah felt the corners of her eyes burn and she quickly turned her face away, mortified
that she’d let her emotions overwhelm her.

“Sarah, I don’t—” Tristan’s voice was soft but hesitant. He was silent for several
minutes while she tried her best not to let more than a few tears slip from beneath
her eyelids.

“I don’t live here by choice.” Tristan spoke so quietly, Sarah barely heard him. “The
rules the servants follow are rules I follow as well. Things are a certain way here.
The way they’ve been for many generations. It’s not the sort of place that changes
along with the outside world. It is a place apart.”

Taking a moment to be sure she had her turbulent emotions in check, Sarah stole a
glance at Tristan. His expression was troubled, verging on wan.

“You don’t want to live here?” Sarah asked carefully.

Tristan grabbed his wineglass and downed half its contents. “Would you want to live
here?”

Sarah shook her head. Despite all its luxuries, Castle Tierney was a bleak place,
and Sarah would have thought the same even if she wasn’t a prisoner within its stone
walls.

“Then why are you here?” Sarah took a sip of her wine, keeping her eyes on Tristan
all the while.

“For protection.”

“From whom?”

He gave her a rueful smile.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” Sarah protested. “I only came to find out what was
here.”

Tristan’s smile twitched, and Sarah cursed her loose tongue. She’d offered more information
than she’d intended.

As though he sensed her regret, Tristan offered, “Do you really want to know why I’m
here?”

His question wasn’t coy, but almost shy. Sarah met his eyes and was startled by the
fragility she found there. He wanted her to know his story. She wondered how long
he’d been wishing for someone to tell it to.

“Of course I do,” Sarah said.

Tristan drew a ragged breath and broke his gaze from hers. For a moment, Sarah thought
he’d decided against revealing more of himself to her.

“Do you know who Bosque Mar is?”

Sarah went rigid in her chair. “Yes,” she whispered. “The Harbinger.”

“Then you know he rules over every Keeper,” Tristan said. “And I’m no exception. I
live at Castle Tierney because Bosque ordered it.”

Sarah’s mind was racing. Her knowledge of Bosque Mar was limited. She knew he was
the source of the Keepers’ power and that he was not of this world. That was all.

She groped for the right question. “Does he tell all Keepers where to live?” It struck
her as a rather mundane interest for a creature as powerful as the Harbinger.

“No.”

“Then why are you the exception?” Sarah’s heart was drumming beneath her ribs. She
was on the cusp of discovering something vital—that was apparent.

The dining-hall door swung open, and servants appeared with the second course. Sarah
eyed the women among them, wondering if any were the horrid Mrs. Cranston. When they’d
gone, leaving a savory beef stew in front of Tristan and Sarah, she looked to him
for an answer to her question but found his vulnerable demeanor had vanished.

“I hope you enjoy your dinner,” Tristan said curtly, and Sarah knew her questions
were no longer welcome.

They passed the rest of the meal mostly in silence, with Tristan or Sarah occasionally
offering a brief comment about the food. Given that Tristan didn’t abandon her in
the middle of dinner, Sarah considered it a significant improvement from their first
meal.

After dessert had been cleared away, Tristan stood up and offered Sarah his hand.
She accepted it as she rose from her chair, but then pulled her fingers away, alarmed
by how warm her skin had grown from that simple touch.

Sarah walked beside Tristan up the stairs until they reached the upper floor and stood
in the hallway where their bedrooms faced opposite each other.

“I suppose this is where we say good night.” Sarah toyed with the choker around her
throat. She found she didn’t want to leave Tristan yet, though she was loath to admit
that she craved more of his company.