Midnight Eyes, Brophy, Sarah [love story books to read txt] 📗

Roger had found him and, smiling charmingly, had threatened him with that unique blend of truth and lies that would see him destroyed unless he became Roger’s spy in Imogen’s household. There had been no choice. He gave up his newfound peace and once more lost himself in being Roger’s man.

Ian slumped onto one of the cold, hard benches and buried his head in his hands.

His soul was Roger’s, and he couldn’t help but hate himself for that.

“I hope I haven’t left you waiting too long.”

Ian’s head shot up and he quickly found his feet. Roger ambled into the light of the candles, the gold thread on his doublet twinkling gaudily. He looked around at the newly completed chapel and shuddered slightly. “I can’t say I am that enamored with your choice of meeting place”—he smiled at Ian knowingly—“but I suppose that there is no better place than a church to meet one’s priest.”

“You told me to tell you if I heard anything else about the Lady Imogen,” Ian said abruptly, anxious to get this final betrayal over.

Roger seemed to be in no such hurry. He wandered up to the altar and idly picked up one of several candlesticks and began to consider it carefully as he spoke dispassionately. “My dear Ian, if I had my way, you would still be in Shadowsend. I’m still not entirely sure why you are here at all.”

Ian crossed his arms over his chest, trying to resist the urge to snatch the candlestick from his hands. “I could not stay there, abusing people’s innocence and trust by pretending to be their honest priest. With Lady Imogen gone the whole purpose of the deception was lost.”

“But, Ian, you are a sanctified priest.”

“That couldn’t save me from you, could it?” he spat out bitterly. But when he saw Roger’s smile harden he drew a deep, steadying breath. “Tonight I have heard from the woman I had traveling with the Lady Imogen. She has told me that the party is camped only hours away.”

“So close,” Roger said softly as he carefully returned the candlestick to its position. “I never realized that my little sister could be so resourceful.”

He stood for a second, staring at the cloth covering the altar, then turned quickly as if to leave. Ian stepped in front of him, his face taut with outrage.

“Is that all, then? Is that all you have to say?” Ian searched the serenely beautiful face in front of him for a moment, then quickly looked away before he could begin to actually believe in it. He shook his head in disbelief. “Because of you, I have just thrown away my last piece of self-respect and here you are treating it as if it all means nothing to you, as if this is just a tidbit of gossip I have collected merely to entertain you. If you don’t care, why have you made me act a Judas all these years?”

Roger raised a brow questioningly. “My dear Ian, calm yourself. Priests don’t have any need for self-respect. That is what their God is for, after all.” He smiled brightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And don’t forget that you also have me and my eternal patronage.”

“I’d be better off with the patronage of the Devil himself.” Ian turned from Roger then, no longer able to abide being so near him and for once not caring if the other man saw his contempt.

“Careful, or I might just remove that patronage.” Roger’s cold eyes raked over Ian. “Till now, I have been very generous and let me assure you, you will miss my generosity if I decide to withdraw it.”

Ian’s hands clenched impotently at his sides. He knew that there was nothing he could do and his silence was an admission of his own weakness.

Roger smiled approvingly. “Good. I’m glad that you have managed to see sense. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a very important appointment with the king. Thank you for the information, but I would prefer in future if you confined our contact to messengers.”

Ian watched him stride confidently from the chapel and had to resist the urge to cross himself. The deed was done and there was nothing he could do to undo it.

He turned and walked slowly toward the altar, staring at the glowing crucifixion. Suddenly he sunk to his knees, impervious to the cold that radiated from the stones and, for the first time in months, found inside of himself enough of the priest he had once been to be able to form the words of a simple prayer.

But he didn’t waste this small miracle on his own tattered soul.

No, he prayed for the young woman whom he had been systematically betraying for years, and who was even now throwing herself into the very mouth of Hell itself. It was a last desperate act, and he knew with a sinking certainty that it would be futile, just as everything had been since the long-ago day he had meet Roger Colebrook.

He knew Imogen well. He had watched her from a distance, had watched her grow and blossom over the months of her marriage and had even been a little proud when she had found within herself the courage to confront Roger, a courage he himself lacked.

Admiration, however, couldn’t blind him to the facts. The chances were she wouldn’t survive the game Roger was playing with her, few did. But still Ian prayed.

He prayed for a miracle.

Chapter Fifteen

A shiver ran down Imogen’s spine as the high walls of William’s fortress cast them into the shadows. She hunched her shoulders, trying to steel herself against the darkness of this desolate place. It seemed impossible to comprehend that somewhere within this stone menace was the man who had brought a little sunlight back into her life.

It was all so alien to her, yet if her life had been all it should have been, she would have belonged to this cold darkness, it would have been