Behind the Mask (79 page)

Abbi was pacing the drawing room when Lance entered, his expression unreadable. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’ll say nothing about seeing him?” she asked, needing reassurance.

“Seeing who?” he asked with exaggerated innocence. He smiled and took her hand, kissing it before he whispered close to her face, “You mustn’t worry.”

When he said nothing more, Abbi found her mind clinging to a thought that she felt compelled to share with him. She wanted to believe she was being guided somehow, to trust him with information that might give him perspective regarding the situation with Cameron. Following her instincts, she said softly, “Lance, there’s something I want to tell you, but . . . it may sound strange and . . . I ask you to keep an open mind.”

“Very well,” he said, looking more intrigued than concerned. She sat down and he took a seat next to her, holding her hand.

“Whether we end up friends . . . or married . . . it’s something you should know about me, although . . . you must know how much I trust you to share this, because almost no one else knows.”

“May I ask who?” he asked.

“Georg. He’s been like a brother to me for most of my life. And Cameron, of course.”

“Of course,” he said and she looked down, realizing she was nervous. “Whatever it is, Abbi, there’s no reason for concern. You don’t have to tell me if—”

“No, I feel like I should. I’m not certain why, but . . .”

“All right. I’m listening.”

“Well . . . you see . . . my mother died when I was very young and . . . the thing is . . . before she died . . . I had a dream about it. And when the accident happened, it was just as I had seen it in the dream.”

His eyes showed intrigue and no trace of skepticism, which made it easier to keep going. “At the time, I told my grandfather about it and he brushed it off as silly. So, I suppose I made myself believe it
was
silly—even though I occasionally dreamed things that later came to pass.”

“Really?” he said. “Like what?”

“Well . . . most of the time it was insignificant; more like . . . just enough to show me that it
was
a gift, so that when the time came for something truly meaningful to occur, I would trust the gift. It was more than ten years after my mother’s death before I had another dream of true significance.”

“And what was that?” he asked, so genuinely interested that she felt warmed by his acceptance, when she knew it had to sound strange.

“Before Blaze was born, I dreamed about him. I knew the foal would be a stallion, and I saw myself riding him while I felt strongly that he would lead me to . . . well, to something great and important in my life. The next dream of any importance was the night before my grandfather died; I dreamed that he’d left me.”

“That’s incredible, Abbi,” he said, keenly attentive. “So . . . it’s obviously a gift, and you’ve learned to trust it.”

“Yes, I have. There is a quality to such dreams that cannot be questioned. The memory of them doesn’t fade. And it’s not only what I dream . . . as the way it makes me feel.”

“Amazing,” he said, and she felt certain he believed that she’d finished her confession. Her suspicion was proven when he added, “I can’t help wondering what purpose your gift might serve through your life.”

“Oh, it already has,” she said firmly. “Whatever I may dream in the future will never compare to where my gift has led me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last summer I had a dream.” Abbi closed her eyes to pull the dream’s image closer to her memory. “I clearly saw a series of landmarks, guiding me to a place in the forest that was so carefully hidden it would be impossible to find without being shown the way.” She opened her eyes. “The next morning I saddled Blaze, and I followed the path that had been revealed to me. I found each landmark with no difficulty, and that’s where I found him—completely alone, forced into exile, hiding for his life.”

She heard Lance draw a sharp breath as he perceived her meaning. Looking away, she continued her story. “He was angry with me. He told me to leave and never come back. He made me promise. But I kept dreaming about him. I was haunted by him. Even though I knew nothing about him, I felt his pain. I kept my promise until the night of the blizzard, when Blaze broke free and I had no choice but to follow where he led. Just as I had dreamed before he was born, he led me to my destiny.” She sighed as she realized that recounting the memories had aided her own perspective of the present. “Cameron heard Blaze and went out to investigate, or he never would have heard me scream. I’d fallen and couldn’t move. I thought I was going to die. A few more minutes and I might have.” She looked up at Lance. “You know the rest. I just wanted you to know, because . . . whatever may come of this, I have absolutely no doubt that it was destiny for Cameron and me to come together. Unfortunately, I have no idea where destiny might lead us now.” Lance looked completely stunned. The silence became taut. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“No,” he said, sounding a little breathless. “It’s just . . . well, it’s incredible.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, hoping his perspective might be tipped in Cameron’s favor.

“Whatever your destiny, Abbi, I wish for you every possible happiness.”

Emotion crept into her words as she said, “I wish the same for you.”

He kissed her brow. “I’m glad you told me.” He smiled again before he arose. “I must go, but Ramona’s insisting I come back this evening. Will I see you?”

“Of course,” she said and stood beside him. He kissed her lips quickly and hurried away.

Returning to her bedroom, Abbi found Cameron standing next to the basin, wearing only his breeches, splashing water on his face. He pushed his wet hands through his hair, leaving it almost black where water clung to it. For a long moment she watched him while he haphazardly straightened his hair. She’d seen him do it a thousand times. She’d become comfortably familiar with his habits and painfully dependent upon his presence in her life. Through the span of a heartbeat she was reminded of the moment she’d first seen his face, and all that had transpired between them since. Knowing that the coming hours would bring great change—and probable danger—she wondered if she would ever see him again, and if she did, whether she would ever see him the same. He turned to look at her, as if her silence left him puzzled. Just meeting his eyes took her breath away, the same as it had the first time he’d looked at her, and a thousand times since. It was as if their spirits connected in a way words could never describe and logic could never justify. All else that was happening in their lives, everything they were up against, paled in the face of the love they shared. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to never leave her alone, to live, to be hers forever. But she could only stare at him and wonder why she would be the woman privileged to share any portion of his life at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, drying his hands on a towel that he placed over his shoulder.

She shook her head, forcing herself to say, “May I ask what Lance wanted?”

Cameron wondered whether or not to tell her, but as the time drew near for the secrecy to come to an end, he felt certain honesty was his best option. He attempted to treat it nonchalantly as he said, “He suggested that you and I leave the country . . . tonight.”

“Maybe we should.” A trembling began somewhere inside of her, alerting her to just how afraid she really was.

His eyes showed torment as he said, “I can’t, Abbi.”

Cameron expected her to protest or argue with him, but she drew up her chin, saying firmly, “Then we must do everything necessary to keep you alive and safe.”

“And so we will.”

She nodded with courage even while tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids. He stood to face her and took hold of her chin with one hand, wiping her tears with the other before he pressed his lips over hers. He felt her trembling as she eased into his arms. He looked into her eyes, long and deep, not willing to even consider the possibility that he might never have this opportunity again. She walked backward with his hands in hers, leading him to the bed where she lay back and urged him beside her, kissing him with an intensity that expressed his own rumbling emotions. Their lovemaking reached deeper into his soul than it ever had, reminding him of all that he had to live for and giving him the peace of knowing that if he didn’t live another day, he would die complete and fulfilled.

The room grew dusky while they held each other in silence. Cameron knew that he had to leave soon. Georg would be waiting for him. He dreaded being separated from her as much as he yearned to do what needed to be done and put this night behind him.

“I need to go,” he said, finally breaking the stillness as he eased away from her and pulled on his breeches. “The sun is going down.”

“I know,” Abbi said. “Let me change your bandage for you.”

Cameron watched Abbi’s face as she carefully removed the dressing the doctor had placed over his side. He winced when she put disinfectant on the wound, and she looked into his eyes, as if to gauge the pain. When the job was finished, Cameron put his shirt on and tucked it into his breeches, pulling the braces up over his shoulders. He took Abbi’s hands into his and they gazed intensely into each other’s eyes. She recognized the same expectancy she’d felt when she had first dreamed of the trail to the mountain lodge. She had followed her dream, and it had led her to this man—and whatever lay beyond this day.

“I must go,” Cameron said and pulled her into his arms. “Tomorrow is our wedding day.”

“I know,” she whispered. “And when can I expect you to make your presence known?”

“As soon as I possibly can,” he reassured her. “I’ll be there to marry you, my love. There is no need to be concerned, in spite of how things may appear.”

Looking into his eyes, Abbi saw a light there that made it easy to say, “I believe you.”

“Good. Now I’ve much to do if I’m going to make it to that wedding.” He sighed heavily. “Tonight it will all come together.”

Abbi bit her lip, wanting so badly to ask what was going on. “Be careful,” was all she said as he swung his leg over the balcony railing.

“Until tomorrow.” He smiled and kissed her before he climbed down the trellis. He took a few steps and turned, touching his fingers to his lips before he gave a final wave.

Cameron found Georg in the stable with their horses saddled. As he mounted, Cameron said, “You told me a long time ago there was something you wanted me to see, but it was too soon. Whatever it is, you’ve never shown it to me, so—”

“I had every intention of taking you there now,” Georg said with a smile. “It would seem we are thinking the same thoughts.”

“That’s a good sign,” Cameron said, and they galloped away.

Cameron felt a distinct uneasiness as Georg led him to a section of town that he’d not been to since his return. In the years before his exile, this had been known as a seedy district, where drunks and prostitutes gravitated. Still, serious trouble had rarely occurred in this area, and even then, the streets had been clean, and there had been a mood of frivolity and revelry. He recalled riding through here many times, finding little worthy of the law’s interference.

But now, the stench of poverty overwhelmed Cameron before they had even slowed their horses to move discreetly down the path that had once been a street. Now it was banked closely by makeshift dwellings, mostly consisting of crates and canvas. The original buildings that stood behind the newer
housing
stood like gray skeletons, sneering down at the pathetic situation below them. Fires burned in various places, where women and children gathered over meager pots that he doubted held much promise. There was no laughter. No inkling of anything good. The cries of children and babies wafted through the air; cries of hunger and abuse. He heard drunken screaming and glass breaking, while every pair of eyes stared back with a hollow, lifeless quality that pierced Cameron’s soul.

Cameron wanted to hurry through, to get out of there to where he could breathe again. Yet something compelled him to linger, to move as slowly as the horse could manage. As if feeling their pain might somehow ease it. When they finally rode beyond the hell of Horstberg, Cameron dismounted and found it difficult to walk the few steps to a tree where he leaned his entire weight. The blood rushed from his head exactly as it had when he’d been shot. He groaned and pressed a fist to his chest, where a tangible burning threatened to explode. He felt Georg’s firm grip on his shoulder and groaned again.

“Oh, heaven help me, Georg. How did this happen?”

Georg sighed. “They’re mostly people who had mortgages foreclosed because of a bad crop, or some other misfortune. Some are the less fortunate who were expected to pay taxes they could never meet. And some had their properties confiscated by the government for various reasons, most of which were ludicrous.”

“Damn him!” Cameron growled and threw a fist into the tree, oblivious to the pain retaliated by the tough bark. “What kind of man is he that he would allow this to happen?”

“Fortunately,” Georg said, “Nikolaus du Woernig is a man who will regret ever crossing
you
.”

Cameron looked into Georg’s eyes. “Why didn’t you show me this sooner?”

“What? And discourage you further by showing you something else you could only worry about and feel helpless over?”

“So, why now?”

“Because tomorrow it will be finished, Cameron. I believe this is something you need to remember when you’re facing those life-and-death moments. Abbi needs you. Your child needs you. I need you. There’s no doubt about that. But, Cameron, if you die without accomplishing this feat, these people have no hope.”

Cameron straightened his shoulders and drew a sustaining breath. Georg saw the light come back into his eyes as he remounted his horse and turned toward town.

“Come along, Georg,” Cameron said with determination. “We’ve got work to do.”