Page 31 of The Last Crimes of Peregrine Hind
Or a duke’s.
It was fully dark by the time they reached the narrow vale of the Hope Valley and passed through the crooked standing stones at its entrance. A shallow river wound beside the road as they rode through the small village, and then, after a mile or so, the stern edifice of Far Hope revealed itself, its many windows glowing against the dark.
Somehow, that didn’t make it seem any more welcoming to Peregrine. It rather reminded him of lights along a rampart or behind a defensive ditch, like Far Hope was a fortress enduring on from a grimmer time. Hardly where he would have expected a hidden society of hedonism and pleasure—but then again, perhaps that was why the Second Kingdom was there. Far Hope did feel like a castle of its own remote kingdom, set in a land even emperors and kings had struggled to properly conquer.
“It used to be an abbey,” Alexander said, talking in that quick, overly bright way. “A Saxon one, and then a Norman one, which was converted and partially swallowed up by the medieval manor house. That’s why it’s so irregular—they say the tower there was originally a bell tower for the abbey church, but that may just be a story. I’ll take you up there, though, so you can see the views in daylight, because it’s fantastic, a vista like nothing else.”
Peregrine made noises of acknowledgment as they rode through the open gate to the house. He came to a stop in front of the large wooden door at the front and then he held the reins for Alexander’s horse as Alexander dismounted.
His former captive looked up at him. With the light coming from the manor house, half his face was cast in gold and the other in pure shadow.
“You’re not getting off with me?” Alexander asked. “Oh,” he went on, still with that brittle, fast tone, “of course, you’re going to go to the stables first. I can come with you if you’d like. Or wait here, and then we can go in together.”
“Go see your brother,” Peregrine said, as gently as a man like him was capable. “He’ll be grateful to see you alive and well and free.”
Alexander made a face. “If that’s true, it’ll only be because he will savor not paying a ransom, even on his deathbed.”
“Perhaps. But there’s only one way to know.”
Alexander hesitated. “You are coming too, right? You don’t have to see him, but you can stay here, and . . . ” He stopped. Maybe he was realizing, as Peregrine already had, that in sickness, death, funeral arrangements, and becoming a peer, there wouldn’t be much room for a kept lover. Especially one that was officially wanted for crimes punishable by death.
“I think we both know the answer to that, Alexander,” Peregrine said.
In the gold-hued light, Peregrine could see the quiver in Alexander’s beautiful mouth.
He knew exactly how Alexander felt right now because Peregrine felt the same. Like his heart was being torn out.
“Stay well,” Peregrine said quietly. “You aren’t allowed to take ill, do you understand? Say your goodbyes at a distance and listen to everything the physician tells you.”
“If I take ill, will you come here right away?” the rake said, mouth continuing to tremble, but with petulance now as well as hurt.
Peregrine gave him his sternest look. “Alexander.”
Alexander swallowed, stepping back in time for Peregrine to see a tear glittering its way down his high-boned cheek. It took everything Peregrine had not to haul the rake back in his arms where he belonged, but somehow, he managed. Somehow, he kept his tears to himself. Even though he’d just surrendered everything he’d held on to for the last four years.
He’d given up revenge. He’d given up Alexander.
What did he have left now?
Eleven
Sandy
“Will you not at least kiss me goodbye then?” Sandy asked, his voice thick and his eyes burning. He was panicked and he was numb; he was furious and he was frozen with hurt.
He was everything and nothing all at once, and it was this horrible highwayman’s fault.
“You will cheat and pull me off my horse if I lean down to kiss you,” said Peregrine with a fond smile.
“Of course I will,” Sandy managed to huff. His throat ached so much he couldn’t stand it. “You can’t mean to leave me here, can you? You can’t mean to ride off in the dark and not stay?”
“Think of it as your escape,” Peregrine told him. His voice was gentle. “You’ve escaped me now. You’re free.”
“Goddammit, Peregrine, you cannot just leave me like this!” Sandy said furiously, another tear tracking down his cheek. He realized, distantly, that it was the first time he’d cried all week. Even being kidnapped, threatened with death, and used as a pawn against his brother hadn’t made him cry. But this—Peregrine just leaving him here when he needed him most?—
When Peregrine didn’t answer, Sandy asked desperately, “But I will see you again, right? Soon? When everything is settled?”
He took a step toward Peregrine’s horse right as a shadow passed behind a nearby window. They’d been heard, and soon someone would be at the door to investigate. Peregrine sighed as Sandy reached out to put a hand on the highwayman’s thigh. It was firm and unyielding, like the man it belonged to. Sandy wished he had the strength to drag Peregrine from his horse. He wished he were strong enough to abduct Peregrine as Peregrine had abducted him.
