A few days later, Sarah sat in Calum’s study and sipped a cup of tea. She was still reeling with the news that her father was being released tomorrow. Apparently, Calum’s law firm had been able to prove that the social worker and the doctor who’d signed off on her father’s commitment had accepted payments from a sketchy law firm in New Orleans that had ties to Remiel.
She didn’t know anything about the law firm, but Calum did, and he’d used the info to blackmail the doctor and social worker into releasing her father. Honestly, she didn’t care about Calum’s machinations. She was just happy her father was coming home.
Calum had also told her about her mother’s childhood friend Isabel Rutledge—the hooded woman—who’d been helping Sarah yet working for Remiel. Sarah wished she could’ve questioned Isabel; after all, she’d given Sarah the map and photos and possibly the ledger that she’d used to solve the cipher. But since Isabel worked for Remiel, it was probably best to let that one go too.
Her phone rang, and her heart hammered. She answered, “Hello?” praying it would be Nate but knowing it couldn’t be. Kells had told her she’d never hear from Nate again.
“Sarah,” Hugh Waring said, “I just finished talking to Detective Garza. This story about Etienne Marigny. It’s…almost unbelievable.”
“I know.” She stared out the window at the garden with a spray fountain.
“There’s a witness who heard Etienne’s confession to the pub murders and our Charleston bankers. I’m still unsure about some details—”
“I don’t know, Hugh.” And she didn’t. She’d left all the details of these spinning stories up to Detective Garza and Calum. She’d no idea what they’d told Hugh and what they’d left out. Garza and Calum said they’d stuck to the truth, but it was often the gray area around the truth that hid the real story. Rebecca and Thomas had taught her that.
“Sarah, did you solve the cipher?”
“The cipher wasn’t as important as I’d thought.” And look at her now. Sticking to the gray areas. “Guess what? My father is being released tomorrow, and I’ve accepted a new job.”
“Really? Doing what?”
She smiled when she remembered Calum pitching the idea to her in such a nervous way, as if afraid she’d say no. “Since the auction was canceled, Calum and Carina Prioleau, as well as Miss Nell Habersham, have decided not to sell their collection of pirate weapons. They’ve also decided to create a new Prioleau/Habersham Art Foundation. They want the foundation to search the city and surrounding areas for historical artifacts to buy and preserve for their collection. Eventually, there’ll even be a museum. The foundation will collect, authenticate, and preserve.”
“And they asked you to work at this foundation?”
She moved into the sunlight streaming through the window. She needed to feel the sun’s heat on her face. “Calum asked me to be the director. My first project is a diary owned by a sixteen-year-old Puritan girl.”
“I’m so glad for both of you, and I’m even happier to have friends like you and Joe living less than two hours away. Charleston isn’t Boston. The South isn’t as easy-going as they want everyone to believe.”
She laughed for the first time since Nate had left. “Maybe not. But they make up for their earnestness with friendship and…” She smiled at the empty dish on Calum’s desk. He’d been bringing her a plate every day.
“And?” Hugh prompted.
“They have this fabulous thing called strawberry pie.”
* * *
Two weeks later, Sarah and her father stood behind the tiny St. Mary of Sorrows Church on the Isle of Grace. Her father had settled into his daily routine. Now that he was home and drinking her tea four times a day, his memory was improving and his seizures lessening.
“This was a good idea.” Her father took her hand and squeezed. “How did you coordinate this, again?”
“Sheriff Boudreaux suggested it when he realized Mom was from Savannah and her maiden name was Theroux.” Apparently, the Boudreaux and Theroux families had been friends. “Calum managed the actual move.”
Her father kissed her cheek and said, “I’ll wait for you in Mamie’s Café across the street. Sheriff Boudreaux said Mamie’s has the best barbecue in Georgia. And strawberry pie.”
She tried not to cry but ended up wiping her eyes with Nate’s handkerchief.
Once her dad disappeared, she knelt in front of her mother’s grave. When Sheriff Boudreaux had offered the burial space in the cemetery behind St. Mary of Sorrows Church on the Isle of Grace, Sarah had said yes immediately. Now she and her father could visit her mother anytime.
“I received your message.” The male voice underscored with a South Boston accent came from behind.
Sarah stood and faced the Prince. Calum had told her that the Prince, when speaking to civilians, didn’t hold to the Fianna’s formal speech patterns. And she was grateful. She was too tired for word games.
The Prince wasn’t as tall as Kells or as handsome as Nate, but he was distinguished in a European kind of way. His short brown hair was styled, and he wore dark dress trousers, a red silk shirt, and a conservative red paisley tie. His hands were in his front pockets, and dark sunglasses covered his eyes.
He took off his glasses and stared at her mother’s tomb. Sarah had had Hic est finis iter est scriptor carved above the name Meg Theroux Munro. My Fair Warrior was carved below.
“I want you to free Nate.”
The Prince’s laugh was both confident and condescending, and she fisted her hands. “Even if I could do such a thing, which I can’t, I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because not everything is under my control.”
She couldn’t help but notice that his brown eyes were similar to his brother Alex’s. Samantha had told Sarah what little she knew about that drama. “Did you know the prison hospital where Nate is being kept has agreed to let him drink herbal tea twice a day? It helps with his headaches and seizures. I was allowed to send some to Nate, and I think you’re the reason.”
The Prince crossed his arms over his chest. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to recruit Nate. You’re punishing him now, but you’re just waiting until things change, and then you’ll turn him into a monster.”
“Like Cassio?” The Prince raised a sculpted eyebrow. “My warrior who saved your life? Twice?”
A good point, which irritated her even more. “Cassio may be the exception. But what if I told you there was a cure for the poison Fletcher Ames pumped into Nate?”
“How do you know this?”
“Fletcher Ames told me. He told me he’d give me the cure if I agreed to kill him. Now that he’s with Remiel, I’m wondering if he wouldn’t make you the same offer.”
“And what do I get in return?”
“First, you save Nate, the man you want to recruit. Second, I’ll give you the cipher and the hide site locations and any other pertinent information I learn from Rebecca’s diary.”
“Does Kells know about this offer?”
“Yes. He agreed. Information in exchange for the cure.”
“I’m…intrigued.” Thunder ripped in the sky above, and the Prince raised his head. “Who else knows how to solve the cipher?”
“Kells and his men. It’s a simple substitution cipher, and I trust them completely.”
“That’s never a good idea, Miss Munro.”
She was tired of his warnings and wanted to go home. “There’s one more thing. Fletcher Ames, when he was talking about the cure, mentioned my father. I wasn’t sure if he was saying that my father has the cure or needed the cure. I’m guessing the latter. While I’m not sure that my dad was poisoned the same way Nate was, I’d like my father to have access to the cure as well.”
“Actually, Miss Munro, Fletcher Ames meant both.” Before she could ask for clarification, the Prince offered his hand, and she shook it. “Information for a cure?”
She nodded.
“Then Cassio will be in touch.”
As the Prince turned to walk away toward a black Mercedes waiting near the church, she said, “Fair warning, Mr. Mitchell.”
He looked at her and put on his glasses.
She doubted anyone called him that, but she hoped it annoyed him. “You can save Nate, but you’ll never recruit him. I won’t let you.”
“As you wish.” After he bowed his head, he stepped into his car and drove away.
* * *
Nate finished his tea, sat on the porch of the prison hospital, and watched the seagulls fly over the uninhabited Maine island. God, how he envied them. He’d been here for three weeks, yet the nurses hadn’t drugged him. He wasn’t sure why and didn’t want to ask. He was just appreciating the time before the mind numbing began.
At least his headaches had lessened. And he hadn’t had a seizure since the night before he almost lost Sarah. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember. Remembering only led to sleepless nights and restless days. As far as he knew, he was going to be here for seventeen years. Or forever. They were the same thing.
He raised his face to the sun and the breeze. If he opened his eyes, he’d be able to see the lighthouse overlooking Frenchman’s Bay.
“Walker.” One of the orderlies came out. “You have a visitor.”
Visitor? He opened his eyes. This was a no-visitors-allowed-ever prison. “Who?”
“Me.” Carina Prioleau came onto the porch and sat on the edge of an Adirondack chair. She took off her oversize black sunglasses that matched her black pants, white blouse, and low black shoes. Her long blond hair was caught in a clip and hung over a shoulder. It was the most casual he’d ever seen her.
He reached out to touch her arm, just to make sure she was real. When he felt the silk of her blouse, he dropped his hand into his lap. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Except she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring out over the rugged hills covered in purple and yellow wildflowers. Birds of prey dipped in the wind. “Do you remember the auction?”
“My short-term memory is still intact.”
She nodded. “Do you remember what you said to me? What you asked Calum to remind me? About not giving away my power?”
“Yes. Although I shouldn’t have yelled at the senator.” Nate didn’t need any more time added to forever.
“Senator McGuire deserved it.” When she met his gaze, he was surprised to see none of her haughtiness. “I wanted to thank you for reminding me of who I am. I know people think I’m a bitch who didn’t love my husband, but I did. That I couldn’t wait to take over his senate seat, although that’s not at all true. It’s been almost eleven months since his death and I still miss him terribly.”
He reached over to hold her hand, surprised to find it freezing cold. “I know that pain well, Carina. And I wish you didn’t have to live through it too.”
She nodded before standing. “Anyway, we can go as soon as you’re ready.”
He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you talking about?”
She smiled. “I reclaimed my power like you told me to. I knew something about Senator McGuire that the president found interesting.”
“What did you do?”
“I gave the president something with which to coerce the senator into voting a certain way on a defense bill. In exchange, I got you a reprieve.” She put on her sunglasses. “I wanted to get you a pardon, but that required more leverage than I had.”
“When I said take back power, I wasn’t talking about blackmailing a U.S. senator.”
“Now you sound like Calum.” She took a piece of paper out of her bag and handed it to him. It had an official seal on it. “It’s a temporary postponement of punishment until I can get you a pardon. I don’t know how long it will last, but the last man who received a presidential reprieve has had his punishment postponed for sixty years.”
He stared at the paper until the words blurred and the edges tore from his sweaty hands. “What does this mean?”
She hiked her bag on her shoulder. “We’re going home. And once we’re there, you’re going to promise to watch over my brother.” She went inside. “Hurry. My private launch is waiting.”
* * *
Sarah stood in front of Saint Michael in the Cemetery of Lost Children at dusk, appreciating the breeze that preceded the rainstorm thundering in the distance. She knew she shouldn’t be here. Sheriff Boudreaux had absolutely forbidden it. As well as Kells and his men. And Pops and Grady and Garza. Calum would probably have a hissy as well, but she didn’t care. She needed to be where she’d last been happy with Nate. And since she couldn’t get back to the cabin on her own, she went to the place where they’d solved the cipher.
Part of her wished she could return to the time before she knew Nate. Before she’d loved him. Before she’d lost him. Because wishing that none of this had ever happened was so much less painful than wishing for what would never be.
“Sarah? Are you trespassing?”
She turned to find Nate backlit by ghostly shadows, in jeans, a white T-shirt, and his black combat boots. “I am.” Her soft voice settled around her like the falling mist. “And you still found me.”
“I will always find you.” He opened his arms. “Because I love you.”
In a heartbeat, she was in his embrace, planting kisses all over his face. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I promise.” With his hands holding her head, his lips stole her breath and took command of her heart. “I love you,” he whispered between more kisses. “I’ll never let you go.”
Suddenly, he swung her into his arms and sat on a flat tomb. Then he arranged her on his lap. “I’m sorry. I almost failed you like I failed my men.”
She loved the sensation of his heartbeat beating beneath his T-shirt. “You didn’t fail. You found my hide sites, and you saved me. If I hadn’t been worried about being betrayed—”
“Shh.” He closed his eyes and rested his chin on her head. “There’s never been a woman who’s touched me the way you have.”
“You’re the bravest, most loving man I know. I was worried you’d fade from my mind, like our time together was a dream.” When her arms encircled his neck, he opened his eyes. They were stark and hungry and masculine. His lips traveled her neck and down to her shoulder until she captured his face, loving his scent, his stubble, and his obvious arousal. “Are you home for good?”
“According to Carina Prioleau, yes.”
She kissed his nose. “Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. Although I think we’re good for at least sixty years.” He stood both of them up. “Before we commence with more kissing, I want you to see what we found when we realized this tomb was the compass rose.”
After he brushed away wildflowers, she saw a rough inscription carved around the base. The stone had sunk into the ground, but the rain had washed away the mucky buildup around the sides. He took a small penlight out of his pocket and handed it to her.
As she walked around the perimeter, she read the verse aloud: “For she had eyes and chose me.”
A tear escaped. “Rebecca and Thomas never had their happy ending. They didn’t live the life of happiness and love for which they were destined.”
Nate’s hands were now on her shoulders, his lips in her hair. “They did live, sweetheart. To love with all your heart is to live fully, no matter how short the time.”
“They married, but they couldn’t escape their tragic fate.”
Nate gently turned her around. “Their fate isn’t our fate. We’ve been given the chance they never were, and I intend to take it.” After another hard kiss, he knelt down and took a diamond solitaire out of the pocket of his jeans. He slipped the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “I can’t promise I’ll be a perfect husband. But I can promise, for the time we have together, a life filled with love. A life fully lived. Without fear or regrets. Sarah, will you marry me?”
Happiness filled her with light until she felt weightless. “Yes, Nate. I’ll marry you.”