Behind the Mask (78 page)

“Abbi,” Lance said in little more than a whisper, “I need to speak with him.” She knew her astonishment was evident by the way he took hold of her hands and pleaded earnestly, “I swear to you that this encounter will have no bearing on the matter. No one will ever know that I saw him or spoke to him. You must trust me.”

Abbi searched his eyes and weighed her instincts carefully. While they had come to speak freely of Cameron, and she knew the two men had spoken recently, being asked to allow the Captain of the Guard into the same room felt more treasonous to her than anything she had done so far.

“Please, Abbi,” he pressed. “Just give me five minutes with him.”

“And then what?” she demanded. “Once you leave here and return to your duties, how can I believe that he will truly remain safe when I know you are sworn to serving Nikolaus?”

“Keeping Cameron’s whereabouts a secret is as much for my own protection as his. I can’t suddenly announce
now
that I know where he is without making it evident that I’ve known long before now.”

“Still, you made it clear that you believe he is guilty of murder. For all your willingness to stand by me, do I have any reason to believe that you would still not prefer to see Cameron face the full penalty of the law for his alleged crimes? You swear to me that you will keep your knowledge to yourself, but you are still dabbling in mixed loyalties, and I wonder if you know which direction the scales would tip if death were staring you in the face. Would it be me or Horstberg you would choose?” He looked completely stunned, his expression reminding her of Cameron’s right after she’d slapped him. “I would hope, given the choice, that you would stand for Horstberg. You are her captain, and I am merely a simple woman with no heart to give you. If you die for love or devotion, Captain, let it be for your country. But the true question for me lies in the fact that whichever direction the scales may tip for you, Cameron’s position would only be caught in the middle. If you are a man who truly serves his country and abides by the law, then you could well be the man who will see my husband undone. If you were to face him publicly, would you not be under obligation to arrest him?”

He said nothing, but his eyes answered the question. Still, he seemed disarmed, perhaps confused. He almost looked afraid, staring at her as if she’d suddenly transformed into a mystical sorceress who might cut him down with a magic word if he were to even speak. She felt certain that Lance still believed Cameron was guilty of murder, and believed he simply couldn’t state his convictions in that regard without upsetting her.

Recalling the purpose of this conversation, she asked firmly, “Did you mean it? That no matter what happens, your knowledge of his whereabouts will never pass through your lips?”

“As God is my witness,” he said, his eyes still riveted to her with an intensity that was unnerving.

If only to break the tension surrounding them, she hurried past him and opened the door. “We must be careful,” she said, and peered into the hall to make certain that no servants—or her aunts—were anywhere nearby. She moved quickly up the stairs, aware of Lance coming directly behind her. At the door she took a deep breath and prayed she was doing the right thing. Opening the door slowly, she could see that Cameron was still asleep. She was hoping to tell Lance as much and postpone this, but she heard him step into the room behind her and quietly close the door.

“He’s asleep,” she whispered, noting how Lance’s eyes took in the brutal evidence of Cameron sleeping in her bed, bare above the sheet that fell around his waist, except for the bandaging that covered the wound. She saw his eyes quickly scan the room, which was a bit of a mess at the moment. How could he not notice Cameron’s clothes, his boots, his cloak, all mingled among her own things? Then he turned to look at her with concern and sadness showing in his eyes, and the emotion she’d been battling in the drawing room rushed back unexpectedly. This was all so ridiculous and horrible, and she had no idea what to do about it. She wanted to think that by tomorrow at this time it would all be over, but at the moment the very idea seemed impossible. Tears fell before she could think of holding them back, and once again she found his arms around her. She cried quietly against his shoulder until she could gain some composure.

“Forgive me,” she said without letting go of him. “I didn’t mean to unburden myself that way. I still wonder every day why you would be so good to me . . . under the circumstances.”

“It’s purely selfish, Abbi,” he whispered lightly, pressing a hand through her hair. “I’m just going to enjoy every moment I can call you mine . . . for as long as it may last—even though I know you’re not
really
mine.” She found the statement especially ironic, considering that Cameron was asleep in the room.

“That all depends on how you look at it,” she whispered, looking up at him. “When my marriage is made public, I will not consider you any less of a friend than I do now.”

He smiled as if he liked that idea. She put her head again to his shoulder, instinctively needing the strength that flowed from him while she continued to cry silent tears.

Cameron heard whispering in the room and forced his eyes open, unable to believe what he was seeing. The Captain of the Guard was standing in the room while Abbi wept in his arms. He bristled when Lance put his hand in Abbi’s hair, wondering why
that
would bother him even more than knowing that the man had kissed her. And here he was, flat on his back, feeling less dignified than he’d felt since he’d escaped from prison.

“I’m not dead yet, Captain,” he said, and they both turned toward him, startled. They stepped away from each other, but he found no guilt in their eyes. Abbi’s innocence in her feelings toward Lance was evident, but he could well imagine the captain finding some gratification in turning the tables following their encounter in the stable.

“How very lucky for you,” Lance said, and Abbi was amazed at how he could immediately become the captain as his entire demeanor changed. “I’m glad to see that you survived last night’s antics.”

“Are you now?” Cameron asked. “I wonder.” He looked hard at Abbi and she sensed his displeasure. Before she could explain he said to Lance, “Is someone going to tell me why my wife brought you up here, or should I start guessing? Did you change your mind about arresting me, or did you just come to taunt me with the fact that you can be seen in public with Abbi and I cannot?”

“You’re still an arrogant wretch,” Lance said, and Abbi wished she had any idea exactly what their connections had been prior to Cameron’s arrest. They shared a grudging respect, at best.

“Georg tells me my arrogance could get me killed,” Cameron said, but he said it with arrogance.

“He’s probably right,” Lance retorted while Cameron sat up in bed, grimacing only slightly from the pain as he leaned against the headboard.

“He usually is,” Cameron said and turned again to Abbi, silently demanding an explanation.

“He wanted to talk to you. He swore to me he wouldn’t divulge your whereabouts.”

Abbi watched Cameron turn his gaze to Lance, amazed to see no sign of humility or apprehension. Was he truly so arrogant as to think that such an attitude was best in facing the man who could see him undone? Or was his arrogance simply a mask to conceal his fears and concerns?

“So, talk,” Cameron ordered. “Your visits are beginning to get on my nerves.”

While Abbi was considering the evidence that Cameron’s audacity was appalling under the circumstances, Lance turned to her and said quietly, “Could we have a few minutes alone, please?”

Abbi wanted to scream at him and insist that she had a right to know what was going on, but she only slipped out of the room and resisted the urge to listen at the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A MATTER OF TIMING

“S
o,” Cameron said after the door had been closed, “have a seat, Captain. Make yourself at home. The decor is a little more lavish than what I’m accustomed to, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

“If your arrogance doesn’t get you killed, your flippancy and sarcasm might,” Lance said, taking a chair that allowed him to face Cameron directly.

“My dear captain,” Cameron said, “there are so many factors in my life that could get me killed. I think I’m beyond caring.”

“I think you
should
care . . . for Abbi’s sake.”

“I’m glad you made that clarification, Captain. For a moment there I thought you might actually be concerned about
my
welfare.”

“I
am
concerned, for a number of reasons. Whatever your past crimes may or may not be, I’m asking you to do the same that you asked of me. You must consider Abbi, first and foremost.”

Cameron pondered the possible depth of Lance’s motives for only a moment before he answered, “I can assure you that my concern for Abbi torments me every hour of every day.”

“Then leave the country,” Lance implored. “Take her and go; go tonight. Get away from here far and fast. Change your name and start over somewhere else . . . before it’s too late.”

Cameron considered the implications—and what they meant coming from
this
man. But he didn’t have to wonder over the answer. He knew it well and he spoke it firmly. “It’s already too late. I will either free the people of Horstberg from Nikolaus’s tyranny, or I will die trying. But don’t interpret that as some selfish motive with no regard to how either outcome will affect Abbi’s life. Both possibilities have given me countless nights without sleep. I only know one thing for certain. While I will do everything in my power to stay alive, she would be better off a widow than enduring life with a man who is dead in spirit, always wondering if he could have made a difference to the thousands of people who are suffering in silence. I’ve already attempted living that way, and I would rather not live as that man.”

Cameron sighed loudly, giving Lance a harsh stare. “So, thank you for your concern, Captain, but it’s not an option. If I end up dead, it might be well for
you
to take Abbi out of the country—at least for a while, until the dust settles.”

“So, you’re willing to just . . . be a martyr to your cause?”

“If that’s what it takes, yes. I have no intention of becoming a martyr, but I realize much of the outcome is beyond my control. And yes, I admit that it’s probably terribly arrogant of me to believe that a man in my position could really make that big of a difference, all things considered, but someone’s got to try. I don’t believe God put me in this position, with
my
knowledge, and
my
potential influence, just to have me stand back and let Nikolaus play with this country as if it were some royal toy created for his entertainment.”

“Treason flows very comfortably from your lips, Cameron.”

“Treason is all a matter of timing, Captain. I may be a traitor today. Tomorrow I may be a champion.”

“Or a martyr.”

“Or both.” Silence prevailed a long moment before Cameron added, “I understand Lena’s betrothed is a good man, a third son I believe—with no political obligations in his own country.”

Lance’s eyes widened as he perceived the implication. “That’s what I hear.”

“He would likely make a fine duke regent, with Lena working at his side—until a child came of age.”

“It’s certainly an option,” Lance said, “but for all of Nikolaus’s indiscretions, proving him guilty of any crime serious enough to remove him from his position is not necessarily plausible.”

Cameron just smiled, certain it was best to drop the conversation right there. A moment later Lance said, “So, you’ll be staying in Horstberg permanently, then?”

“Dead or alive,” Cameron said.

Lance stood up. “I want to say that I wish you all the best, but . . .”

“That would border on speaking treason, now wouldn’t it, Captain.”

Lance’s eyes silently agreed before he turned and moved toward the door.

“On the chance that I don’t make it to the wedding tomorrow,” Cameron said, and Lance hesitated with his hand on the knob, “take good care of her. For all of her fire, she’s fine and fragile. She deserves the very best that life can offer.”

Their eyes met for a long, silent moment, heavy with unspoken messages.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Lance said and left the room.

Once the door was closed, Cameron groaned and slammed a fist into the bed at his side, wishing he could feel a degree of the confidence that he’d been able to exhibit. He reminded himself of what he’d told Georg, and fought to capture those feelings again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on a vision of how different everything would be tomorrow. He was surprised at how little effort it took to take hold of the image. It
was
so close he could taste it. And God willing, Captain Dukerk would look the other direction for just one more day.