Tristen heard the sound of pounding horse’s hooves, and he turned to see what was happening. What he saw was Amalie kicking the animal hard in the flanks and riding off in the direction of town.
“Sir, are you all right?” one of the station hands asked, coming to a stop behind him.
Tristen glanced over his shoulder. “I think you men can handle things from here. It appears I need to make a sudden trip into town.”
He ran to the stables and saddled his horse quickly before swinging up onto its back. Kicking it in the flanks, he steered it toward town.
As soon as he arrived at the Anabranch Hotel, he dismounted and threw his horse’s reins over a nearby railing. He looked around for any sign of Amalie or the animal she had ridden into town, but nothing stood out. Maybe she hadn’t come to town after all.
Either way there was something she wasn’t telling him, and he needed to know what it was. He had hoped to talk to her when he returned to the house, but it appeared she had other plans. Who could she have gone to see though?
At first he wondered if the man she spoke of, the man who found her after Albert Heather’s death, was in fact Bastian. The brutality of the person who found her sounded so much like him. But even if Bastian had been the one who found out about the murder, it didn’t explain any kind of relationship between them. After all, he was the bastard who caused her to lose their baby. And if Bastian was responsible for hurting her now, why did she not tell him about it?
Tristen had so many questions he needed answers to, and if Amalie wouldn’t answer him, then there was only one other who could. Walking into the hotel, he went straight to the bar.
“I need Bastian Tanner’s room number.”
“Room six,” the bartender replied. “It’s the third door on the right.”
Climbing the stairs at a quick pace, Tristen hurried to the room number he’d been given and banged on the door. “Bastian, it’s me!” he yelled. “Open up. Now.”
After a few moments of what sounded like people moving around hurriedly in the room, the door opened and there stood Bastian with a smug smile on his face.
“Yet another visit from the recluse. To what do I owe the honor, Tristen?”
“I want to speak to you about Amalie. I want to know what you know about her employment with Albert Heather.”
Bastian shrugged. “I don’t know what you think I could know. I was her fiancé, not her bodyguard. And as I’ve already told you, I didn’t keep track of her every action after I ended our engagement.”
“As I am aware, still you were always one to find out information that you could use to your advantage. Given your association with Albert, I suspect you know something, and I want to know what it is.”
Bastian walked over to the drinks tray on the desk and poured himself a drink. “It’s pretty simple really. Amalie had been sleeping with Albert for several weeks. One day she thought to overstep herself and demanded he choose her over his wife…permanently. She was dismissed from his service immediately. Given what happened to Albert, I’d say she didn’t take too kindly to being pushed aside.”
Tristen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He didn’t want to. The thought of Amalie being with another man sickened him to his stomach. Remembering what he knew of Albert and his reputation with his staff, it was more likely that Amalie was trying to escape the old bastard while he tried to rape her.
“You shouldn’t look so surprised,” Bastian continued, interrupting his thoughts. “Amalie has worked for several other estate owners, and they all tell similar stories. I was even told she was suspected of stealing from some of her employers, selling the items on the black market for coin.” He downed the last of his drink. “She’s not a woman you should trust, Tristen. She uses who she must for what she wants, and then tosses them aside like an old petticoat.”
Tristen remembered that feeling. It wasn’t one he wanted to relive. Looking around him at the meager surroundings Bastian now lived in, he began to wonder how the man knew so much about Amalie.
“I was told someone saw her running from Albert’s house around the time of the murder,” Tristen mentioned, testing to see if the other man had also heard such a thing. “You don’t happen to know who that was, do you?”
Bastian shook his head. “All I know is there was a man on the road who she ran into, acting for all to see as hysterical. Apparently, he took her in when no one else would and protected her from the law that was chasing her. When he demanded payment for his protection, she protested. Came at him with a knife. There was a struggle, and Amalie ended up with a knife wound just below her right rib. It left her with a nasty-looking scar too, almost as bad as the one on your face.”
Tristen knew the scar the other man spoke of. He had seen it. What he wondered was how Bastian knew it was there. After all, he had it on good authority that Bastian preferred men to women in his bed. So if he hadn’t seen it himself, how did he come to know about it?
“For someone who claims not to have kept track of her, you seem to know quite a lot about Amalie and what has happened to her.”
Bastian poured himself another drink. “As you said before, I make it my business to find out what information I can. You never know when it may prove to be useful.”
“Is that how you found out about the woman who was seen running from the workers’ cottage the night Jacob died?” Tristen asked. “Did you think finding out who the murderer was might prove helpful to you?”
“Oh, I have found that more useful than you would think,” Bastian said, smiling smugly. “It appears she may have been more connected to you than your friend though. Informants have recently hinted to me that the fire may have in fact been intended for you that night, and not Jacob.”
“Why would any woman want to kill me?” Tristen asked, suspicious by this man’s change of opinion. “I have never done anything to hurt a woman.”
Bastian shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say any woman who found out she was in a relationship with an engaged man would be most eager for revenge. Someone like your best friend’s little sister.”
“Are you suggesting Amalie lit that fire?” Tristen demanded to know. “Do you honestly think she would do such a thing knowing she would also endanger her brother’s life?”
“Maybe,” Bastian replied. “How well did you know Amalie while you were sleeping with her?”
Tristen narrowed his gaze, suspecting he was again being baited. “I never said I shared a bed with her,” he muttered, defending her reputation. “Nor have I ever admitted to being in any kind of a relationship with her.”
Bastian raised his brow. “So you’re claiming you and her were little more than acquaintances? Then why were you so desperate to see her after the fire?”
“I was being accused of murdering my best friend and my fiancée,” Tristen exclaimed. “As one of the victims was Amalie’s brother, I needed to see her and clear my name.”
“And now it appears you might have been wanting forgiveness from the very woman who tried to kill you,” Bastian smirked.
Tristen shook his head. “There is no reason Amalie would want to kill me. After all, what would she have to gain by my death?”
Bastian shrugged. “Maybe it was jealousy. Or maybe she thought to steal some of your wealth to help her father’s failing business out.”
“Is that why you called off your engagement to her?” Tristen asked, positive what he was being told was little more than fabrications. Amalie had no reason to want him dead, but Bastian had every reason to want him to think that. “Did you find out the Fergus family didn’t have the money you were so hungering for?”
Bastian sipped his drink. He stood there swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I found her searching through my papers one night, looking for deed papers to steal. When I confronted her, she attacked me. I called off the engagement immediately.”
Tristen narrowed his eyes at him, thinking he could catch him in a lie. “Is that how you lost all your properties?” he asked, knowing full well how Bastian had lost everything.
Bastian glared at him, and Tristen waited for him to explode as was his usual custom. Instead, Bastian just sipped his drink.
“She is some of the reason, yes,” he declared. “She accused me of stealing her father’s assets and she wanted them back. I tried to tell her I didn’t have them, but she wouldn’t listen. I told her whoever stole hers most likely took mine as well. I sent her to search for the papers at some rich bastard’s estate, but she claimed she couldn’t find them. I’ve had others out searching for the rest of my property papers too. When I finally get them back, I’ll make whoever took them pay dearly.”
Tristen thought on his words, something about them familiar to him. Turning away from Bastian, he left the room and walked through the tavern toward the exit. He needed to get home immediately and see if Amalie had returned. Now, more than ever, he needed to talk to her about how she had spent the last few months.
His conversation with Bastian mulling around in his head, he knew something wasn’t quite right. Despite the man’s claim that he knew very little about Amalie, and hadn’t kept track of her after their engagement ended, Bastian still seemed to know quite a lot about her and where she ended up almost a year later. He even knew about the scar under her rib and the missing deed papers. Tristen was confused though, because he never made any secret of buying up all the Tanner estates and assets, so why was Bastian now pretending to know nothing about the owner?
Tristen had been certain his lawyer made it quite clear who purchased everything, especially in Bastian’s case. He needed him to know that he could still take everything away from him, despite the fact he had lost Amalie to him. But had he really lost her? Amalie confessed time and again that her father called off the engagement prior to his death, a story quite the opposite to what Bastian had told him.
And what about Bastian’s recount of the murder Amalie was supposedly guilty of—he knew far too much about it to pass it off as hearsay and rumor. What if Bastian was the man she ran into out front of the Heather estate the night of the murder? That would explain how he still knew so much about her. It would also give reason to why Amalie had turned up on Tristen’s doorstep after so long.
Pushing his way through the crowded drinking area, Tristen was almost at the door when he ran into a woman, seemingly trying to flee the tavern. He reached for her, his hand on her arm, trying to stop their bodies from colliding.
“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against him.
“Amalie?” he asked, spinning her around. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Her eyes were large, her body seeming to be momentarily frozen on the spot, resembling a deer caught by a hunter. Thinking of all the things that could’ve brought her there, Tristen’s heart sank at the thought of the most obvious reason.
“You were here to see Bastian, weren’t you?” he asked, needing to be certain.
As tears welled in her eyes, his heart ached with what that could mean. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened, holding her firm.
“Why?” he demanded.
“Because I have no choice!” she finally admitted, her struggles lessening. “If I leave him, he will go straight to the police and tell them where I am. When he promised to keep me safe, I didn’t realize that he would continue to use me as he has.”
Tristen dragged her away from the now curious onlookers to a quieter corner at the front of the hotel.
“He’s the man you ran into on the day of Albert Heather’s murder, isn’t he?”
She nodded.
“And he’s the reason you came to my estate that day, isn’t he?”
“Bastian gave me a place to hide when I had nowhere else to go,” she explained. “He promised he would get my father’s station back for me and take me away from the life of servitude I’d been forced into.”
“He sent you to my station to steal the papers back,” he said with a heavy heart.
She nodded hesitantly.
He pursed his lips. “And was it his idea for you to fuck me in order to get them?”
She struggled against him, but he wouldn’t let her go. He needed to hear her answer.
“Answer me, damn it!”
His raised voice made her jump, and she stopped struggling. “I wanted you to tell me yourself if it was you who killed Jacob and Amanda,” she finally rasped out. “I wanted to hate you for your desertion of me, but…”
Her hand went to his face, her fingers tracing over the scars there. Tristen pulled his face away, and her hand fell back to her side.
“When I saw you again, I was reminded of the man I used to love. That’s why I slept with you. And that is the only reason I have stayed with you.” Her brow furrowed. “I hoped you would keep me safe, and that once I was with you I could be free of my past, but Bastian won’t ever let me go.”
His hands fell away from her. “So why are you here now?”
“Bastian sent for me. He demanded I give him the property papers you’ve got hidden in your study. I’ve tried to tell him I can’t find them, but he refuses to listen. When you arrived at his room, he told me to leave, fearful you would see me and discover my connection to him. I hid in the room next door though and listened to your conversation. I heard the lies he was telling you about me and about what I’ve done, and I was so scared you would believe them.”
“Why were you so sure I would believe him?”
“Because no matter how close I try to get to you, you continue to push me away, doubting I have any genuine affection for you after our months apart.”
His hand rubbed the scars on his chest unconsciously. “Can you blame me?” he asked. “You are a beautiful woman, Amalie. How could anyone as stunning as you ever truly love a monster like me?”
She reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his. “Because you are you, Tristen. The first time I was near you—the feel of your skin against mine, the haunted look in your eyes—you were the man that I loved.”
“And now?” he asked. “What am I to you now?”
“I can’t ask you to believe my love for you, not now that you know about the man I have killed, or the hold Bastian has over me.”
He studied her for a moment, thinking of the situation they were both in. “And what if I can remove the hold he has over you?”
“You would do that for me?” she asked.
His hand went to her face, cupping her cheek. “I would do anything for you.”
“Tristen?” a woman’s voice called from behind them.
Amalie stepped away from him, his hand falling back to his side as she glanced around him to see who it was.
“What is Helen Desmond doing in a place like this?” she asked.
His hands reached for hers and held them, needing her to stay focused away from the woman that had just called out to him. “You need to go home now before Bastian finds you with me,” he ordered. “I’ll follow you shortly and we can finally figure out a way to get you free from Bastian’s hold.”
Waiting until she nodded and started to walk out of the hotel, he turned and stepped toward the woman who had called his name.
Stopping before her, he raised his brow. “I thought I told you we should meet in private, Helen.”
She took his hand in hers. “You need to come with me,” she said, pulling him behind her to a secluded corner at the back of the hotel. Maneuvering him onto a seat against the wall, she sat down on his lap.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not ignorant to how their familiarity must look. “I thought we agreed to meet in a few days.”
Helen laced her arms around his neck, looking for all to see as if they were lovers. “I know that, but I was here on other business when I saw you.”
When she leaned into him, her lips grazing the side of his mouth, his hands on her hips pushed her away. “What do you want?”
Helen pouted. “Is that any way to talk to me after everything we shared?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle softly at her words. “We shared rumors, and nothing more. And you know that we only encouraged them so as to avoid some very unwanted engagements.”
Her hands went to his face, her fingers tracing the stubble on his chin. “I would have been happy for our relationship to be more than just lies, but you seemed so besotted with Amalie Fergus that I could barely catch your attention.”
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t demand this meeting to flatter me.”
Her hand fell away from his face. “You asked me to find out what I could about Bastian Tanner.”
He nodded. “And what kind of relationship he had with Amalie. I’ve just come from his room upstairs, but everything he tells me is laced with a web of lies. I no longer know what is the truth.”
Helen leaned into him, appearing as if she were whispering sweet nothings to him. “Bastian used to visit Amalie before the fire. He was near obsessive about it. She tried her best to avoid him, and apparently she declined every offer of marriage he gave to her. After a while, he started visiting Amanda Dix, again offering marriage. She wasn’t as strong as your Amalie though, and she couldn’t always avoid him.”
“My lawyer told me Bastian preferred the company of men in his bed though. He even was seen frequenting a molly house regularly.”
She nodded. “That’s correct. I was told he was seeing an Albert Heather, at least until the old man pulled out of some business deal. Bastian became so enraged with being dismissed without even a penny, he lunged at the old man. The only thing stopping him from murdering Albert right then was the servants that came in and dragged him away.”
“So he was sleeping with Albert, but trying to woo Amalie or Amanda into his bed for their money?”
“Or at least the money he thought they had. Apparently the night of the fire, Bastian was seen following Amanda into the cottage. He had been following her all night and scared her enough that she confided in one of the house servants. The servant followed Bastian outside and into the cottage. He saw Bastian lunge at Amanda. When she tried to fight him off, he beat her badly. By the time the servant ran back to the house for help, the cottage was engulfed in flames.”
When Helen went to get off his lap, Tristen’s hands grasped her hips, stopping her. “What about Amalie?” he asked. “She ended up engaged to Bastian after the fire. Did he try to force himself on her too?”
Helen stared at him for quite a while, studying his features. Finally, her hands went to his, removing them from her hips as she stood. She stalled for a moment, straightening her skirts. Unable to stand her silence, he reached out, grabbing her wrist.
“What did he do to her?” he demanded.
“He kicked her so hard she lost the baby she was carrying,” Helen explained. “Then a few months ago, a doctor was called here to help her. I was told the madam found Bastian in a room with Amalie, a knife sticking out of her stomach.”
“Just below her right rib?”
Leaning into him, Helen kissed him softly on the lips, her hand coming up and resting on his chest. “Your Amalie is lucky to be alive.”
His hand went to hers, holding it against his chest to stop her from leaving. “Do you know why he stabbed her?”
She shook her head. “Not for certain, but the women who work here say Amalie betrayed Bastian. They overheard him trying to tell some police inspector that he had proof it was you who killed Jacob, and Amalie denied it. She insisted it couldn’t be you as the man she saw running from the cottage that night had fair hair and was wearing a suit.”
“She could’ve died,” he exclaimed.
Helen smiled. “She must have really carried a torch for you. Not too many women I know would risk their lives for the man they claim to love.”
She kissed him one final time, soft and short, before walking past the bar and toward the back of the hotel. Tristen’s hands came up and rubbed over his face, his mind a maze of confusion. Determined to go back to his station and talk to Amalie about Bastian, his hands fell back to his sides and he stood up.
As he stepped away from the table, his gaze fell on the image of Amalie, her hand covering her mouth and her eyes welling with tears. Their gazes met, and he knew instantly that she had seen him with Helen. He stepped toward her, his hand reaching out to her, but she turned on her heel and ran from him.
“Damn it, Amalie!” he yelled after her. “I can explain.”
But she didn’t turn back, just kept running out of the hotel. Pushing his way through the patrons, he soon lost sight of her. Finally reaching the door, he stepped outside onto the footpath and looked around for any sign of her. Nothing.
Remembering the horse she had ridden into town on, he walked around the side of the hotel, thinking she might have tethered it out back so as not to be seen. As he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Amalie stood a couple of yards in front of him…with Bastian.
He shifted to a hidden position behind a weeping wattle tree, his stare glued to the two people before him. Despite all he’d heard about the violence in their relationship, watching them together—Bastian’s hands on her face, wiping away her tears—tore at his heart.
There was a familiarity between them, one he had only seen between men and women who lived together...shared a bed with each other. That last thought made his stomach lurch. He didn’t like the idea of Amalie going to another, giving to any man what she had given to him. He wanted to be the only man she showed her affections to, but as he watched the pair in front of him, he began to doubt that this was a possibility.
When Bastian lowered his lips to hers, Tristen could watch no more. Turning away and hurrying back to his own horse, he swung up into the saddle. As he turned the animal in the direction of his station, he heard the loud thud of hooves on the ground. Grabbing his horse’s reins to steady it, he watched as Amalie sped past him on her animal, her direction also his station. Kicking his beast in the flanks, he sped off behind her.
* * * *
Amalie stood in the Anabranch Hotel, hidden amongst the many drinking customers, her gaze concentrated on Tristen and the woman he was with. Watching their affectionate familiarity, her heart broke. She was a fool for ever getting involved with him again after so long. There could be no mistaking the relationship between Tristen and Helen, having known about their lengthy affair several years ago, something that appeared to still be active.
Anger and hatred boiled inside of her as she watched the two together. She had been foolish to believe Tristen truly still loved her after all these months. Helen kissed him before turning and walking to the back rooms of the hotel, and Amalie couldn’t believe how openly he was willing to show his affections for her. Unable to watch anymore, she turned and ran from the hotel, needing to get as far away from him as possible.
She was almost at her horse when Bastian stepped out of the tavern, his arms going to her and stopping her.
“Why are you still here?” he demanded to know. “Did Tristen see you?”
She tried in vain to hold her tears at bay. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she cried. “I can’t do this. If you want property papers so badly, then you will have to get them yourself. I can’t stay with Tristen any longer.”
His hands went to her face, wiping away her tears, holding her face firmly until she whined in pain. “You keep your voice down!” he demanded in a harsh whisper. “Now you will go back to the station, and you will get me the papers I asked for!”
“I can’t find them. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he hissed. “I know he has my property papers. The bastard made sure I knew it was him who stole them from under my nose.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You knew all along that Tristen was the one who bought up your properties, didn’t you?”
He sneered at her. “Of course I did, but I couldn’t get anyone close enough to him to steal them back for me. Then you ran into me that day out front of the Heather’s estate.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he held her firm. “Now do what I told you to,” he ordered. “You owe it to me, remember?”
“Don’t make me do this,” she begged. “I will do anything else. Anything.”
He smiled at her, and she suddenly felt more fearful than ever before. He lowered his mouth to hers, and she fought the urge to recoil, knowing what punishment he could inflict on her.
Slowly, he moved his head back away from her. “If I found you even the remotest bit attractive, I would have fucked you already. Sadly, the only use you are to me is getting those papers back.”
“And what if I can’t?”
He smiled evilly. “Then I will hand you over to the police for the murder of Albert Heather, and the fire that killed Jacob and Amanda.”
He let her go, slightly pushing her away from him. “If I don’t get those papers within the next two hours, I will send the police out to the station to get you.”
Fearful what was going to happen to her, Amalie ran for her horse and leapt into the saddle. Kicking the animal in the flanks hard, she steered it toward Tristen’s station. She needed to gather her few belongings and get as far away from Jarvisfield as she could before she was found and hung for the murder of three people.
* * * *
Tristen arrived at his station to find Amalie’s horse tethered loosely to the sandalwood tree at the rear of the house. Charging inside the back entrance, he ran upstairs to find her and demand to know once and for all what was going on.
Stopping outside the open door of her room, he stepped inside and looked around. She wasn’t there. All he saw was her travel bag open on the bed, her few belongings thrown inside. Hearing noises coming from further down the hall, he went to investigate. As he approached his study, he noticed the door was open. His steps slowing, he cautiously neared the room and peered inside.
Amalie stood behind his desk, rummaging through the drawers before quickly slamming them shut. Her hands went to the few things on his desk, spreading the papers out, clearly looking for something. Leaning in the doorway, he knew what she must be looking for.
He cleared his throat. “All the deed papers are in town at my lawyer’s office.”
“Son of a bitch!” she yelled, throwing the papers in her hands across the desk and onto the floor.
“You should’ve just asked me for them when you first arrived here. It would have saved you some time, and you wouldn’t have had to fuck me just to try to distract me from your real intentions.”
She walked around the desk and toward him, pushing past him through the doorway. He reached out, catching her elbow in his hand.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
She struggled against him. “Let me go! I can’t stay here.”
Finally pulling herself free from his hold, she ran down the hall and to her room. He was close behind her. When he reached her door, he saw her throwing the rest of her belongings into her bag.
“Are you going back to Bastian?” he asked, storming into the room.
No sooner had his hand rested on her shoulder, ready to turn her to face him, Amalie spun around, her hand coming up and slapping him sharply across the cheek.
“How dare you accuse me of...of...” she spat at him. “I saw you at the hotel, remember? I saw you and Helen.”
He reached for her hand just as she was about to slap him again. “You need to listen to me. What you saw between Helen and I isn’t what you think. We have been—”
“Fucking!” she yelled at him. “I remember you always were quite fond of her, even after you jumped into my bed. I was too blind to realize it then, but now…” Her words trailed off, and she took several deep breaths as if trying to calm herself. “I won’t stay here and play second to another woman again. I might have been happy to do it once, but I can’t do it again.”
“Yet you expect me to just stand by and let you sneak away back into town and to Bastian?”
She struggled against him, but he wouldn’t let her go. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she cried.
“Damn it!” he yelled, shaking her slightly. “I saw you with him at the back of the hotel. I saw him touch you.”
“And you stood there and did nothing?” she asked, her struggles stopping.
“When I saw him kiss you, I couldn’t bear it any longer, so I left. I was just readying to head home when you sped past on your horse.”
“Bastian said I had only a couple of hours to give him the deed papers before he sent the authorities out here to arrest me for the murder of Albert Heather and for lighting the fire that killed Jacob and Amanda. He told me I owed him for what he did after Albert’s death.”
His gaze narrowed. “What exactly happened that night?”
He felt her shudder and knew that even the memory brought her fear.
“Albert thought part of my duties to him included lying on my back and spreading my legs. I disagreed. When he tried to take what he wanted, despite my objections, I hit him across the head with a vase. He rolled off me and landed on the floor. Fearful that I had killed him, I ran from the estate…and straight into Bastian.”
“And he offered you protection?”
She shook her head. “He went into the house to check on Albert. When Bastian came out he said the old man must have landed on the letter opener when he rolled off the bed, because he was lying on the floor beside the bed with the blade in his gut. I was scared what would happen to me. Bastian hid me from the police, and then demanded I work for him, trying to get information on you.”
His grip on her loosened. “And did you?”
“For a while, but more so I might find out what happened the night of the fire.” She lowered her gaze from his. “I also needed to know why you deserted me without even a word. I assumed you’d learned about the child I was carrying.”
He nodded. “I did, but by that time the doctor had been called to you.”
Her hand went to rest on her stomach. “I didn’t want to stay with him, but I was so scared what would happen to me. I had no other choice. When he took me to the hotel to live, I didn’t realize just how much he hated you, not until I heard him talking to a police inspector. Bastian tried to tell him that he had evidence to prove you were responsible for the fire. I told the investigator that I saw a man running from the cottage that night, but that I was certain it wasn’t you.”
He let go of her completely. “That was when Bastian stabbed you.”
She nodded. “I tried to leave after that, but he threatened to tell the police that I was the one who murdered Albert. I didn’t know what else to do, and I had nowhere else to go.”
“Why didn’t you come to me for help?” he asked her.
“I-I was scared,” she uttered, tears lacing her voice. “I heard so many rumors about you and the life you led. I was fearful you wouldn’t even care enough to see me.”
He studied her long and hard, looking for any sign of a lie. All he saw was her genuine fear.
“I’ll send word to my lawyer. He can have the papers Bastian wants here within the hour.”
A few tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks. “You would do that for me?”
He nodded. “As for Bastian’s hold over you—”
Just then a loud banging on the front door rang out.
“Police!” someone yelled. “Open up now!”
She began to tremble, reaching for her bag. “I can’t stay here,” she screamed. “If they find me, I will hang for certain.”
He grabbed her arms, needing to steady her and calm her emotions. “I need to ask you something. Do you know for certain that you killed Albert?”
Her tears began to take control. “I-I don’t know.”
He had to think quickly. “You need to come with me to confront the police.”
She stood there shaking her head frantically. “Please, don’t do this.”
“You need to trust me,” he begged her.
She didn’t listen though, instead pushing away from him and running to the window to look outside.
He walked over to the window and stopped behind her, looking outside. “You will have to do as I say. They have the house surrounded.”
She turned to look at him, tears covering her face. “I will hang for certain,” she muttered in barely more than a whisper, suddenly looking pale as she slid to the floor.
He crouched down before her. “You need to trust me,” he said softly, desperate for her to listen to him.
She wouldn’t look at him, her face lowered to the ground. Suddenly, she reached out to grab something that had caught on the laces of her boot. Picking the thin piece of blue fabric up in her fingers, she brought it to her line of sight. She studied it for a moment before lifting her gaze to his.
“This is my ribbon,” she rasped.
He nodded. “It’s the one you used to tie on the tree in front of the old mansion we used to meet in. It must have fallen from my desk while you were searching through my papers.”
“Why do you still have it?” she asked.
His hand went to her face, cupping it. “Because for the last few months, all I have had of you are a few keepsakes. Now I have so much more, and I will protect it with my life.”
Just then the door behind them flung open. Standing up immediately, Tristen looked back at several police officers. “I’m sure you have a good reason for barging into my house?”
One of the officers stepped forward. “We have reason to believe that you are harboring a murderer in here.”
Tristen chuckled. “And who was supposed to have been killed?”
“We have it on good authority that Amalie Fergus murdered Albert Heather. If you will just hand her over—”
“No,” he said sternly. “And until you have more proof than just some hearsay, you best leave my house immediately.”
“It’s not that simple, sir,” the officer said firmly. “Bastian Tanner confirms he saw Miss Fergus murder Mr. Heather. Now, unless you can prove otherwise…”
“Actually, I can,” Tristen said. “If you go to the molly house at the other end of town, the owner there will no doubt tell you of the meetings Mr. Tanner had with Albert Heather in that place. And if you talk to the men who used to work for Albert, you might even find out that when Albert threatened to call off their affair without so much as a penny to his young lover, Bastian got quite enraged. Had the workers not walked in when they did, the old man would have been murdered there and then.”
There was a silent standoff between Tristen and the officers. Finally, the main officer glanced at his men. “I think we should visit the molly house, lads.” He turned back to Tristen. “But I assure you, if we don’t find anything, then we will come straight back here and you will both be coming to the station with me.”
The officers went to the door and began to leave.
“And don’t even think about escaping,” the main officer said. “I will leave one of my men out here with you just to ensure you stay put.”
When the last officer left, they shut the door behind them.
“What happens when they learn what you just told them is a lie?” Amalie asked, finally standing.
He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “They won’t,” he explained. “That’s what Helen needed to tell me at the hotel before.”
She glanced back at him. “You’ve had Helen spying for you?”
“Information and rumors is all that ever lay between her and I,” he confessed.
She snuggled back against him. “Thank you for what you did.”
His arms went around her waist and his hands rested on her stomach. “Don’t thank me yet. Bastian is going to be none too happy when he realizes what I’ve done. I think, at least for now, it’s best if you stay here with me for a while longer.”
She placed her hands on top of his, molding them against her stomach. “I can’t go back to Bastian now anyway. It’s not going to be long before he figures out we’ve been sharing a bed again. I can’t risk that happening.”
He was confused. “I don’t understand. I would have assumed that would have been part of his plan?”
“Bastian planned for so many things to happen when he sent me here to your station and back into your life,” she said softly. “The only thing he never planned for was me carrying your child.”
“What?” he asked, spinning her around to face him.
“He took our last baby away from us. I can’t risk him doing that again.”
His hands moved down to Amalie’s stomach. “We’re going to have a baby?”
She nodded. “That’s why I’ve been so dizzy of late.”
Holding her to him, he kissed her passionately. Feeling her hands going under his shirt and stroking his skin, he broke their embrace. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered. “But nor do I think I can refuse you.”
She pushed his shirt to the floor. “I don’t want you to refuse me.”
Amalie kissed his chest, her tongue licking at the scars there. He wanted to pull her away from them, embarrassed by how his skin now looked, but feeling her caressing him, her fingers pulling at the fastening of his trousers, he couldn’t.
“Please, Tristen,” she begged, lifting her head to look at him. “If you are gentle with me…”
Her soft words were his undoing. Pulling her to him, he kissed her hungrily, his hands ripping her clothing from her.
* * * *
Lying together afterward, Amalie’s fingers traced over the scars on Tristen’s chest. His hand came up to her, stopping her caressing hand.
She looked up at him. “They are just scars.”
His hand squeezed hers. “Yet every time you look at me, that is all you will be able to see.”
She kissed his chest lightly. “What I see is you,” she explained. “When you hold me, I smell your skin and it intoxicates my senses. You are my everything, Tristen. You always have been.”
“But the fire..”
“What of it?” she asked. “I know you didn’t light it.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Despite what everyone told me about what happened, I remember seeing a man with fair hair and wearing a suit running from the back of the cottage the night of the fire.”
His caressing hand in her hair stilled. “It was you who saw them?” he asked.
She nodded. “And I’m certain the man had fair hair. Even Carter saw him. He was walking me out to the gardens to meet with you when it all happened.”
“He was with you?” he asked. “He was with you all evening?”
“Most of it. Why?”
“Bastian told me a woman was seen running from the shed that night. He suggested that you had every reason to want me dead after learning of my engagement to Amanda.”
She was confused. “But that doesn’t make any sense. I told him what I saw and where I was that night. I also told him I had known about Amanda since not long after your engagement was announced.”
“Was it after the fire that Bastian asked you to marry him?”
She shook her head. “He came to the station practically every day to see me. Each time he would talk to me about marriage and how he and I would make a profitable couple. It was a week or so after the fire that my father told me I was engaged to Bastian.”
His hands ran affectionately along her arm. “Helen told me he did a similar thing to Amanda before her death. Apparently he was seen by a servant following Amanda into the cottage the night of the fire.”
“I just don’t understand why,” she said. “I mean, Amanda was engaged to you and sleeping with my brother. I made it quite clear to him that I had no interest in being his wife either.”
“But as far as he knew, both of you women had money and properties.”
“He told me you stole his estates from him. Is that true?” she asked.
He nodded. “Of a kind. When I heard of your engagement and the reason your father was going along with it, I wanted to reveal him for the lying bastard he was. When he came to see me after the fire, telling me I would be shot if I came to try and see you again, I wanted to show him that despite my injuries, I was still capable of being a far more powerful businessman than he would ever be.”
“But stealing?”
“I didn’t steal them,” he said. “I merely bought them when they were being repossessed by the people he’d borrowed money from.”
“You said you were friends of a kind when you were younger. Maybe this all has something to do with what happened then?” she asked.
“We merely went to school together. We weren’t friends as such. Our fathers did do some business together that didn’t end well. And then there was…” His words drifted off.
“Then there was what?”
“The day of the fire, before I came to meet you, Jacob was helping me unload a dray of hay. Bastian and his father came out to the station. Old Mr. Tanner went inside to see my father, and Bastian came over to us. He mentioned that business mustn’t be good if I was shifting hay instead of one of the workers. A few minutes later, the old man stormed out of the house, calling Bastian to follow. He looked as if whatever happened between he and my father didn’t end well.”
“Do you think all of this might be because of some bad business deal?”
“What if it’s because of many bad business deals?” he asked. “What if Bastian blames me for ruining his family?”
“But you didn’t ruin them, did you?”
He shook his head. “Bastian’s father had no head for business. He made so many bad deals and he cost most who did business with him a lot of money, including my father. I guess when his father finally lost everything, Bastian thought it was us who caused it and he wanted me to pay dearly for it.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you suggesting Bastian was the one who lit the fire that night?”
“I’m thinking he may have, but he didn’t plan for both myself and Jacob to be caught inside.”
“What about Amanda?” she asked. “She lost her life that night too.”
“You said Carter was with you most of the night and saw the man running from the cottage. I wonder if he also knew Bastian was following Amanda, trying to corner her?”
“I was going to go into town in the morning to see if he had any more information for me. I can ask him if you’d like?”
“What I’d like is to go with you and speak to Carter myself.”