“You told me you would never betray me.” She stabbed him in the shoulder with her finger. “You said it out loud, right to my face. Yet here I am, by your hand, your own words branding you a liar.”
“No.” He shook his head violently, droplets of water hitting her face. “I would never willingly betray you.”
“Nor would I poison your sister. I am not the monster everyone makes me out to be!” Her voice—harsh and crackly—bounced from wall to wall like a mad woman’s. She retreated a step, breathing ragged, hating the awful sound of it, hating even more that this man could drive her to such unbridled passion.
Henry whirled, slapping his open palm against the opposite wall. His head hung as if she’d whipped him.
Bootsteps thundered their way, the smack of the turnkey’s club against her bars a lightning bolt down her spine.
Henry turned back swiftly.
The grizzly turnkey merely hitched his thumb towards her. “She giving you trouble, Mr. Russell?”
“No.” Henry scrubbed his palm over his face, the motion rough with fatigue. “I would appreciate a moment more with Miss Finch, if you please. Alone.”
“Aye.” The big man gave a nod. “As you wish. I’ll wait near the door, then.” He ambled off, but not before he directed a dark look her way.
Slowly, Henry approached her cell, the lines of his jaw hardening. “Will you swear before God you are innocent? Think very carefully before you answer.” His voice lowered to a menacing whisper. “Do you swear it?”
She searched his face, her gaze flicking between each of his grey-green eyes. Oh, but she was desperate to read what went on inside this man, to know that he would believe her if she but said the word … but would her word alone be enough? Wassheenough for him?
She pressed her lips tight.
Oh God, please let him believe me.
Inhaling deeply, she stepped up to the bars and grasped the cold metal. “Yes, Henry. I vow before you and God that I never have done—and never will do—anything that would harm your sister. And now I must ask the same of you.”
She lifted her face to his. “Will you swear before God that you believe me?”
Henry stood at the very tip of a precipice, teetering above a black abyss waiting to swallow him whole if he answered no … or yes. Either promised dire consequences. Again, he spun away from Juliet’s beseeching eyes. A cowardly move, perhaps, but altogether necessary. This was no small question. He must bear the weight of it without allowing himself to be swayed by the sight of a woman worn thin by three days in this wretched place.
A woman who still had the power to squeeze his heart.
He retreated to the solid wall beside her cell, just out of her line of vision. Sliding his back against the cold stone, he sank into a crouch, revisiting every memory he had of the untamed Juliet Finch. She was a wild one—or could be—but she was also a refined lady, one with nothing to gain by harming Charity. Nothing financial. No negative history or vendetta. She’d even risked herself to try to help him find his sister’s tormentor.
He tipped his head back, eyes fixed on the blackened ceiling, though he saw none of it—all he could picture were her fiery eyes, burning into his soul as she vowed her innocence. Would she dare swear such a thing before God if she were guilty? No. Juliet was many things—impetuous, headstrong, passionate—but never once had she given him cause to believe her a liar. Even when she’d been caught with a grouse in her bag she’d put up no defense … which pointed to her veracity now. So, either he believed her, or he didn’t. There was no in-between. It came down to faith. Faith in her. Faith that no matter how dark things might appear, she was worth holding on to.
He rose, expelling the past three days of angst in a great whoosh of air, then returned to Juliet, heart banging against his ribs like a war drum. She stood as he’d left her, clutching the bars, knuckles white, face even whiter, shoulders a stiff line.
He met her gaze head-on. “I believe you, Juliet.” He swallowed, conviction coating his throat. “I swear it.”
She drew in a shuddering breath, a barely audible “Thank you” passing her lips when she released it.
And just like that, the heavy load he’d carried the past three days lifted, replaced by a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope. Not simply because truth had won out, but because he finally could move forwards without doubt dragging him down.
She studied him, likely calculating his sincerity, and when apparently satisfied, she reached into her pocket. “If we are totrust one another, then I think there is something you should know.”
She pulled a small paper from her pocket and held it out.
He unfolded the creased note, paper nearly ripping from having been handled so much, and read:Trust is dangerous, so beware. Near the old stone gate, truth lies buried where lies take root.
Interesting. But what did it mean?
Cocking his head, he waved the paper in the air. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone slipped it under the bars the first night I was here. I can only guess it was the guard, though he admits to nothing. I suspect someone paid him to pass it along to me.”
“Why?” He fingered the paper. “What truth does it speak of?”
