AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What’s that?”
“He’s using forbidden magic to shield himself. He must be. That kind of power can only be generated through the dark energy wrought by Unseelie spells.”
“That makes sense.” She steepled her fingers against her lips, regarding him steadily. “So if we can’t find him, perhaps we let him find us.”
He arched a cynical brow. “And by ‘us,’ you mean me.”
“He’s determined to capture you as a way to gain the stone. Thus, we dangle you as bait and see if he bites.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“But it will work.”
“It very well might, but it’s my ass you’re dangling.”
“How secure is your ass now? Scathach and the Amhas-draoi will never let you live. To them, you’re a conscienceless murderer with the blood of hundreds on your hands.”
“I didn’t . . . it wasn’t like that.”
But what had he told Elisabeth? A sin of omission was still a sin. He might not have struck the killing blows, but his handprints lay all over the daggers that had. His ideas fed the ambitions of the group. His arrogance blinded him to the mounting evil going on under his own nose. It had taken Freddie’s death to finally make him see. And by then it had been too late.
“You want your life back? Help me find and capture Máelodor,” Helena argued. “Force him to stand for his crimes. The Amhas-draoi will finally realize who’s behind this new source of trouble. They’ll have to listen to me—and you.”
“What of Elisabeth? Máelodor thinks she knows where the stone is hidden.”
“She’s safe enough while she’s under my protection, but surely that’s another reason to assist me. As long as Máelodor is alive, Miss Fitzgerald is in danger. You dragged her into this. It’s up to you to pull her free.”
He didn’t answer. Instead his gaze locked on the flames. The little frame house down the hill from the churchyard. Freddie’s family. Freddie. The place had gone up like a box of tinder. He’d felt the heat upon his face like the fires of hell. And known, at that moment, there would be no escape from what he’d done. He’d tried. For seven years, he’d outraced the devil, but he’d finally been caught. It was time to pay.
Miss Roseingrave resumed her slow pacing, jaw flexing. Pausing now and then to slant an evaluating stare in his direction. “What do you say, Douglas? Bait to catch a killer? End this once and for all?”
Reaching out with the lightest of mental touches, Brendan sought to read the sincerity of her declaration. Slammed against a consciousness locked tight. Probing deeper, he met a tangled honeycomb of thought designed to thwart any intrusion. If she lied, there was no way for him to know.
If you wanted Brendan dead, you’d have done it already. We’ve nothing to lose and all to gain.
Elisabeth’s words resounded within him. . . . nothing to lose . . . all to gain.
And he’d run out of choices.
Reaching beneath his shirt, he pulled free the stone on its chain. Light flickered in the rough-carved faces, a smoldering burn like the leading edge of a storm cloud or the flash and fire of a smoke-filled battlefield.
Gold eyes met black. Neither one willing to flinch.
“Agreed,” he said.
Bath over and dress burned, Elisabeth stood at her bedchamber window in a dressing gown. Seeing little of what passed before her eyes. Instead her gaze drew ever inward, her mind a short cab ride away in Merrion Square at the Fitzgerald town house.
Aunt Fitz and Aunt Pheeney might be there now. Worried for her. Disgusted with her. Would they understand when she told them the truth? Perhaps. But there was no way to explain it to Gordon. In his eyes, she would be compromised beyond recovery. A ruined woman. Unfit to be his bride.
The pain accompanying that thought bit deep, though it didn’t shatter her as she thought it might. She’d accepted Gordon, knowing him for the solid, dependable man he was. Knowing he didn’t excite her or send her into raptures. Knowing he might be her last and only chance. So what did that say about her?
“Here, now. An extra blanket in case you get cold tonight, though it’s warm enough now.”
Elisabeth hadn’t heard Helena’s grandmother come in, but there she was, her winter pippin face creased in a welcoming smile.
Killer, who usually greeted all newcomers with a token snarl, remained snoring—belly up, paws in the air—in the middle of the bed.
“Some watchdog you are,” she mumbled.
