Tender Mercies - By Kitty Thomas Page 0,62
take away her overall feeling of safety.
He absentmindedly ruffled his pet’s hair. She knelt on a pillow next to him in his study, wearing a bikini and tan-colored pants. She’d been lonely, so he’d invited her into the study with him while he took care of a few matters with his investment portfolio. Grace kept herself occupied, painting a little clay pot she’d made. She’d been lining her windowsills with them for weeks now. Their happy presence made her room seem even brighter and just a touch bohemian, as if she’d become a true islander.
The brand was almost fully healed, leaving behind a clean scar of his estate symbol. Asher stroked his mark, and she smiled at him.
This was the scene that was interrupted by a knock on the front door at four o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon. A few sharp words were exchanged down the hall by William and whoever had come calling. Moments later, footsteps pounded down the hall, and two island officials stood in the doorway. One flashed a badge and the other produced a document.
“Asher Collins, you’re under arrest for the murder of Darcy McDonald.”
Their words turned the room into a vacuum where no air seemed capable of penetrating. Grace dropped the pot she’d been so carefully painting, and it shattered on the hardwood floor.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Forget it.”
Her face fell. They both knew nothing would ever be done about her breaking the little pot. Whereas, before the words “you’re under arrest” had pressed into the room, she would have been caned for the infraction, or at the very least made to write lines or stand in a corner for a couple of hours. There wasn’t time for any of that now.
He didn’t bother stalling. What was the point? The more worked up he got, the more upset and agitated Grace would become. He could at least go away with dignity. His chest tightened as he looked down at her. She was moments away from uncontrollable sobbing fits. The moisture had gathered around the corners of her eyes, threatening to launch the tsunami of grief.
They must have found Darcy’s body. So much time had passed; he’d thought it was over. Ironic that the moment he found himself finally able to move on and bury the guilt, her body should surface. It was as if she were punishing him from beyond the grave for loving Grace. For replacing her.
He could almost hear her voice in his mind. Wasn’t your purpose to atone? Not move on and live happily ever after?
He moved to the front of the desk. “I’d like to request that you set my slave free off the island. Send her to live with her friend.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible under the circumstances,” one of the uniformed men said. “According to the law, in a situation like this, the individual under arrest loses all human ownership privileges, and the slave reverts back to being the property of her former master.” He looked down at the document he’d shown a moment ago. “That would be Lucas Stone. He’s already been notified and has requested that she be returned to him.”
Asher bet he’d been notified. He’d probably spent every waking hour since the elevator incident, searching for the body.
Grace crawled to him and latched around his leg like a small child intent on stopping his progress out the door. She let out a blood-curdling shriek and kept repeating the word, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
He would have ordered her to pipe down and show a bit of decorum but he couldn’t have reached her even if he’d tried. She’d gone somewhere inside herself. The vocalizations surfaced from wherever she was, but if he spoke, he knew she wouldn’t hear him. If it was possible, she seemed to be in worse shape than she’d been in the day he brought her home.
“You can’t mean to give her back to him. Whatever you think I’ve done, that’s not Grace’s sin. She’s an innocent in this. Stone abused her. He left scars on her. If you have any decency at all, you won’t send her back there.”
Asher wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t about to admit to killing Darcy. In the first place, it hadn’t been his hand that had delivered the fatal blow. It didn’t matter how responsible he knew he was, he wasn’t about to say anything that sounded like a confession. Whether they had the body or not, he would hold his tongue until he had further information