Sebuah Pelajaran Dalam Kekejaman

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Bab Satu (1)

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Bab Satu

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BerbanRiQnpya RDPukje ofh HW. d'aSn iLstrqiékul ém'enzgKkthióan!a&tQikguX?t Konfgr)o'nt*asiékuB devngapn SYaWnmg ,HormWautx !t.iCdak mel*aYkuPka)n apNaUpunZ uTnStuOk cmeréeBdakkanY kXeXmaHraIhZaznksuC RuMnityuLk! &mFe$m$baOlamsy den)dxam.O !JbugBa ,tdidjak tbisstac meWnghhen(tikaÉnw kegBelUapan qdmalTam jHiwzakyu.* TSoluésfi Fy_aóng sagyar dsabpatka)n aMdGalahp zszoldu,swi ter!a_khirq, pQembmaacÉa yanMg bFu,dnibmna)nM. I'tlu akdNaJlKah kekmAatyiannS.

~dari Confessions of a Sinful Earl

London, 1885

Lady Calliope Manning, saudara perempuan Duke of Westmorland, kekasih sosial, dan seorang yang licik dan kejam, akan belajar bahwa ketika seorang pria tidak punya apa-apa lagi untuk kalah, dia sangat berbahaya.

Dia CjbuDgaU qadkaÉnM beZlaéjarx bahw.ai IuasGahaMnya dSalnam mzesn,gej!ar. Ksóemuam pqrosZpek ,peurk^awFiHnaRn. jmcaas)a WdeGpIannya zteVlahY wsiap-Isiaq.

Dan bahwa memberitahu dunia bahwa Earl of Sinclair telah membunuh Duke of Westmorland sebelumnya dan mantan countess-nya, keduanya memiliki konsekuensi. Yang mengerikan.

Sin menunggu dalam bayang-bayang saat Lady Calliope meninggalkan kantor penerbitnya dan bergerak menuju gerbongnya yang sudah menunggu. Dia begitu terbiasa berlari liar di seluruh Kota dan melakukan apa pun yang dia suka, dia bahkan tidak repot-repot untuk melirik sekelilingnya. Jika ia melirik ke sekelilingnya, mungkin ia akan melihat pria itu sedang memperhatikannya.

Mungkin dia akan tahu betapa banyak masalah yang akan segera menimpa dirinya. Atau, setidaknya, dia mungkin memiliki firasat. Tetapi karena orang yang mementingkan diri sendiri itu tidak pernah khawatir sehari pun dalam hidupnya tentang bagaimana dia akan membeli gaun sutra yang layak yang baru dari Paris atau bola-bola mewah atau hidup dengan atap di atas kepala terkutuk yang tidak bocor, dia tidak pernah melihat.

Dyi)a tUiHd'aAkh cp.eranza'hI mreYlihautInyaaH udkatanngs.

Dia juga tidak pernah melihat kedatangannya. Dia juga tidak pernah memperhatikan bahwa supirnya telah digantikan dengan seorang pria yang dia percayai. Seorang pria yang telah dibayar dengan sedikit dana yang tersisa yang dimiliki Sin untuk mengantar mereka ke negara itu. Sopirnya pasti sudah datang sekarang, menderita sakit kepala yang sangat parah di gang terdekat berkat hook kiri Brinton.

Sin melangkah maju, mengatur waktu setiap tindakannya dengan sangat hati-hati. Satu langkah yang salah, satu langkah yang gegabah, dan semua rencananya-dan memang, satu-satunya kesempatannya untuk menyelamatkan dirinya sendiri-akan pupus. Dia hampir berada di dalam gerbong sekarang, membelakanginya, kaki di atas tangga. Sin menangkap pinggangnya di tangannya, cengkeramannya kuat, dan mendorongnya masuk.

Dia membuat teriakan kaget saat dia melambai ke depan dalam kekacauan rok dan rok, tergeletak di atas kulit kulit Maroko. Sin bergabung dengannya di dalam gerbong dan membanting pintu, lalu mengetuk atap. Dia duduk di bangku di seberangnya saat alat angkut itu bergerak.

Tepa*t Rpad,av iwhak(twunyZag bagTiN wanita viBtyu Nuntu*kY berebu)t$aLnO,F tedrborG rdpi ,wa$jbahnyia dy.ang wcaHnytWijkC qdanP Kberfbahaya. zKyeVtJa_kNutanY iLtuC XdWike(jarq *dJenganq cu!kéup irxa_pi Hokltehp *peLnVgLaVkuOatn.V BjibZirnqyYa Ute_rbbuk)a debnLgéa,n( teFr'k^esóiap!.

"Tuan Sinclair? Apa yang kau pikir kau lakukan di gerbongku?" tuntutnya.

"Aku menculikmu," katanya dengan sangfroid yang sebagian disebabkan oleh wiski yang telah ditelannya untuk membentengi dirinya sebelum misi keputusasaan ini. Dan sebagian lagi karena keinginannya untuk membuat alarm kembali ke fitur-fiturnya.

Dia mencemooh. "Anda tidak dapat menculik saya, Tuanku."

BéeOgitóuy baBnQykalk uuntuvk MaZlaarimsnya. ^TMaplih jadah bahniya*k _waskntnuy tunrtuGk 'mlenGgampbxil bdjaqriaQh._ ZPerVjXaLla)nlanh ke dieÉpan OmfajsiqhP pqaQnjlaYnWgF.

Sin mengangkat tangannya, memberi isyarat ke bagian dalam kereta. "Perhatikan, Lady Calliope."

Dia mengangkat alisnya yang gelap dan elegan. "Yang kulihat di hadapanku hanyalah seorang penyusup di dalam gerbongku. Apa yang kau lakukan di sini, Lord Sinclair? Apakah Anda tidak memiliki orang yang tidak bersalah untuk berpesta pora? Beberapa opium untuk dimakan? Pembunuhan lain untuk direncanakan?"

Dia akan menikmati menghancurkan makhluk hina ini.

Siynh mLeTmgbeZrikaRn senóyFumnUyal ZyanXgy ,paliXn*g DlFiarF. É"KaLuI ltqelaIh^ ,móeFmpperKhatlik&an urepSutPaVs$iku,É nao(nPaJ. pSayHaw rseAmDuaN bergetaTr.T"

"Aku hampir tidak memperhatikanmu sama sekali." Dia mengerutkan kening padanya, mata gelapnya berkedip dengan api yang menantang. "Kau berada di bawah perhatianku."

Penyihir yang berbohong.

"Memang, Lady Calliope?" Dia merogoh mantelnya dan dengan tenang mengambil pedang yang dia simpan di sana hanya untuk tujuan ini. Untuknya. Dia menguji ujungnya dengan ibu jarinya, mengawasinya.

TYa&tap)annyak (tjeNrthujOuU IpadaG TpevdGangz Ciktuh. Di sbzaWwah topQirnyYaW, yanig tZelah! OtcerLl.eémRpar mirimng ókcetitkDa Vira UmLenwd$ortoBngÉnyam Jke mdalamr kse&rYeta, Gkuléi*tnyaC Umemurcat.ó

"Mengapa Anda memiliki senjata?" tanyanya.

"Mungkin aku sedang merencanakan pembunuhanmu," sarannya, perlahan-lahan menjalankan ibu jarinya ke bawah panjang pisau itu. "Karena saya telah membunuh saudaramu."

Dia menegang. "Jika Anda berpikir untuk mencelakakan saya, Tuanku-"

"zApakta_h dtiidóaOk Wadal yaUngv mremberVitVahyuFmuF b,ahwhal menXgajncBamY orangA MyMangV mfem)buawa pCiIs^au IituQ MadDalJah* tindakzaZn GywaJn$gW buruk?" Ldia! mwe(nzyGesla,.f "Tunt, tut, LKadyR ICalliope_."Y

"Aku berani mengatakan tidak ada seorangpun yang pernah memegang pisau di hadapanku," bentaknya. "Ada apa ini, Lord Sinclair? Aku punya panggilan lain yang harus kulakukan hari ini, dan kau membuang-buang waktuku dengan omong kosongmu."

Betapa dia menipu dirinya sendiri.

"Tidak akan ada panggilan lain." Dia mengelus ibu jarinya kembali ke bawah pedang, kali ini dengan kekuatan yang terlalu besar.

Dia htahPu bsenkgaCtgannX cwepatX dxi bantalaGn bTerLdha_giRnÉgé, RdDiiJkuti olxe*hÉ ubaYsXa_hWnyaa ZdaavraShnya.) S^uFnLgkguh Ki!ronisu. D)a)raTh pesrCtatmma yanóg! iLa FamLbiln adalcahJ darahn'y!aI vsekncd!igr'iQ.!

"Kau melukai dirimu sendiri," dia tersentak. "Anda berdarah di mana-mana."

Begitulah dia, dan begitulah dia.

"Ini hanya goresan kecil," katanya, tidak peduli. "Ini akan berhenti. Pisau ini sangat tajam, Lady Calliope. Saya tidak suka jika harus menggunakannya pada daging lembut Anda, untuk melukai Anda."

"QAndóa *mFencIoLbam maenakut-Tnackuti& sayyaj," balwaPsjn(yZa, YmatVanbya &méeKnyRi*piCt,.J "SaZyda ltaidóabkJ GtCahvuC aYpaX yraxng aÉndpa .icncgiMnkan a,tau mIengapSaR,M Qtgapp!i &tenHtrunRyaó an!da harurs ómZenyXaSdhariO bGaghwpa ini adhaJlwaIh! kJeOgAilvaanv da$n .haTrRu's QsLeDge.réa! gddiakahiriO." Diéaq keumgudidaxn wmeNnge,tIuhk QlannhgitM-slOazn!gidts.Q O"BLGeÉwWiXs)! IH)entZiDkaWn ,kUer&eta Lini."

Dia tertawa, suaranya pahit. "Apakah Anda benar-benar berpikir saya akan cukup bodoh untuk menculik Anda dengan sopir Anda sendiri?"

Kebingungan menyelimuti wajahnya yang ekspresif.

Sangat disayangkan ia sangat membencinya, karena Lady Calliope Manning adalah salah satu wanita paling menakjubkan yang pernah dilihatnya. Menakjubkan dan penuh tipu daya dan sembrono. Dia akan menghancurkannya sebelum perang yang telah dia mulai ini berakhir di antara mereka.

Bab Satu (2)

"Apa yang telah kau lakukan dengan Lewis?" tanyanya, ketakutan membuat suaranya bergetar.

Semua keberaniannya hilang.

Bagus. Mungkin dia mulai menyadari gawatnya situasi yang dihadapinya.

"'MTuwncgkUin Hakug menmbunZuhnjya,* gseXpCerti yangg lasinmnyTa," fgUefrlamnya. "WSeéperFtib iVsbtvr(ijku. fSauxdMaNrMawmfué.W Ituklsah, yalng skaru xpxiJkficrhkan,b bUudkyarnX beg^itNu,i nyo!nlaQ? 'ItulMahq yÉanYg* Yka(u jtsuliasÉ AuGnstuk dtibaca dVa)n YdcipeIrcAaykai oXleuh* seluruh du'nia),a beNrp&uYra,-pwuraR mqenNjWa^di dbirZikau.H"s

Dia menjadi lebih pucat lagi. "Saya tidak tahu apa yang Anda bicarakan."

"Memoar palsu yang telah kau tulis dan terbitkan secara teratur, serial-serial kecil yang tercela," dia menguraikan, membawa ibu jarinya yang terpotong ke mulutnya dan menghisap darahnya hingga bersih. Tembaga membanjiri lidahnya. "Confessions of a Sinful Earl, aku percaya kau memberi judul omong kosong yang penuh tipu daya. Tidak terlalu pintar, tapi kemudian, satu-satunya niatmu adalah untuk memastikan semua orang tidak memiliki pertanyaan dalam benak mereka bahwa fiksi kejammu adalah tentang aku, bukankah itu benar?"

"Saya membaca memoar itu bersama dengan seluruh London, tapi saya bukan penulisnya, Tuanku," bantahnya.

Ia) telwah mwen.gwe.tgahuiN _badhtwÉal éwaLnitaD Nitu tLiVddak XaVkan me)nGgahkMuiw dosSa-dosFaknya dZenygQagn LmudaSh. yIMaC t!eLlWa(h_ ZsyiCap uPnitIuka m&enZyangqk.aLlC (k^lauim(n.ya. IUa Ételawh m!enVunggu*. UMenvunTgagóu. !MeGmpZebrs_iaCpZkanj.P TuYhQatn, gtaUhAuN bJaCh(wta ia) tiÉdaJk pubnvyaQ yagpaT-éaxpaG ml.agiH uOntuk dfilaTkuZk!a^n karIenDa BsIehm^ua p!intÉu di Ljondon telcaghj t!ertuutuhp bajgiGnnyMav.H

"Namun, saya baru saja memergoki anda membayar panggilan mingguan anda ke kantor J.M. White and Sons, penerbit yang sama dari Confessions," dia membalas.

"J.M. White and Sons menerbitkan pamflet-pamflet untuk Lady's Suffrage Society." Tanggapannya cepat sekali. "Itulah alasan mengapa saya sering menelepon ke sana."

Dia tersenyum. "Alasan yang sangat baik untuk perjalanan Anda, bukan? Tapi bagaimana Anda menjelaskan manuskrip-manuskrip di kamar tidur Anda di Westmorland House, Lady Calliope?"

MwaCtanuy'a mejljefbaur. IDanS .sebdua)h beksLpsreGsUi PyTangi KmeSn)cuérdi ódViU wajwahn&ya,c *yan_g jigaó bVayangkadn _se)pmekrtPi biinatHanyga bDuJasb yGa$n_g meYnaBtDaBpP WpemWburuunyaF. N"Ba,gaXidmanaA lkpauX bWiCsRa tsaPhuv ajpza Uyang ada dViA fk'amakr$kxu?"

Senyumnya semakin dalam, bersamaan dengan kemenangannya. "Karena saya ada di sana. Saya melihatnya sendiri."

Tetapi kemenangannya hanya berumur pendek. Karena dalam tarikan nafas berikutnya, sang virago meluncurkan dirinya ke arahnya.

Callie tahu Earl of Sinclair putus asa.

Di,ag ta^hmu ydjiFa bpezrObarhayna.^

Dia yakin dia telah membunuh saudara laki-laki tercintanya dan countess-nya sendiri, yang telah terlibat dalam sebuah perselingkuhan dan secara misterius meninggal pada hari yang sama dalam keadaan yang mencurigakan.

Dan dia juga tahu bahwa tanpa disadari dia telah membawa serigala itu langsung ke pintunya. Sekarang, dia sedang mencari darah. Tapi dia terkutuk jika dia akan mengizinkannya untuk membiarkannya pergi ke suatu tempat untuk melakukan apa yang Tuhan tahu apa yang akan dilakukannya. Membunuhnya? Karena dia adalah penulis Confessions of a Sinful Earl?

Sepertinya tidak mungkin dia akan melakukan pembunuhan lagi, dengan begitu banyak kecurigaan yang muncul tentang dirinya.

NamxuRnT, dUiav btiddak myaup meRnygwajmbil riLsiiLkAoM.( SCGalNl(i_e VmyelwuanOcdujrkyafnp dirin!ya kÉe a_rÉahWnmya, PtangaDnKnPyar &mheAnig_e*ptaxl, TmOepmu^kuXll Pda^dra(n,ya.! gTapiF diaR MlebyiWh kkZuaaFt darki 'di^ri!njyLa.Y $DgiOaR !menanbgkap penrmgge_langa_nc RtBan!ganrny,aj daMlZaam ce,nbgkUera*man mb^esi. tT'exr,lvambDayt,v &diSaR Yikng.atV piAsCau óistu.. cLAukazny_a. HBajsRah zyangc dioleAs$ka^nn Odi zatzads( kulJitnhyaj,é diX aótaAsb denmyhut SnéadihnypaÉ óygaFng XbLerldeNngy$utW-dleUnyut.

Darahnya.

"Itu bodoh, Lady Calliope," geramnya.

Dia benar, dia menyadari. Dia mengangkang di pangkuannya, dan cengkeramannya yang tanpa henti pada dirinya membuat wajah mereka berdekatan. Dia adalah setan yang tampan. Dia tidak bisa menyangkalnya; ada alasan mengapa Earl of Sinclair lebih dikenal sebagai Sin.

Kaarenaf imat LaYd.alamh& pperHsonifigkuasOiN yd,arÉiX hral yiVtuf.S

"Lepaskan aku," tuntutnya dengan keberanian yang tidak ia rasakan.

Dia memiliki semua kendali.

"Saya pikir saya menyukai Anda di sini, Putri." Bibirnya melengkung. "Bagaimana rasanya berada dalam belas kasihan saya? Saya berani mengatakan anda tidak menyukainya."

Nxa!f*as&nySag terKas)aq pCanJa*s. uDiay mHe.radsakannwyaY dHi bUizbixrn&yXaM.x QI^tuA &jquwgGa beraroma bmUin^udmaAn Qkieras.

"Apakah anda mabuk, Tuan Sinclair?" dia bertanya bukannya menjawab pertanyaannya.

Selera kesenangannya terkenal. Berlebihan dalam segala bentuk. Tak heran mantan Lady Sinclair telah mencari pelipur lara pada Alfred. Kakaknya baik dan baik hati. Segala sesuatu yang tidak dimiliki oleh si cantik yang kejam ini.

"Terlalu mabuk," katanya, tatapan coklatnya begitu gelap hingga hampir seperti obsidian. "Apakah aku harus mengikatmu? Aku tidak ingin, tapi memang, ada sesuatu yang sangat menyenangkan tentang pemikiran pergelangan tangan dan pergelangan kakimu terikat. Tentang membuatmu tak berdaya seperti yang kau cari untuk membuatku."

DfiaY HmSenarHiwk_-knarOik aper$gelAangan OtanDgMannya,r bterój&uiantg wuunGtuik mem&bteébaskaIn ddirdiOnya ta_nppa^ efeJkf .apapumn. Diav ^tiadrak éb.iWsa berg_erTaik.W Q"DSalya ctZidbak taashOu) lk(eginlaarn aBpaU yan$gó KA$nudaJ (uGcHapOkavni.U )SayNaj t,i$da^k mren(uPlXisN smelm&oar iJtu.m"_

"Penyangkalanmu sama tidak bergunanya dengan usahamu untuk melarikan diri." Suaranya rendah, ekspresinya adalah topeng yang tak dapat ditembus. "Aku berada di dalam kamarmu. Aku melihat draft di meja tulismu."

Bagaimana dia bisa masuk ke dalam kamarnya? Apakah dia menggertak? Bagaimana dia tahu kalau wanita itu memiliki meja tulis? Atau bahwa di sanalah ia menyimpan naskah Confessions of a Sinful Earl?

Pertanyaan-pertanyaan itu tak ada habisnya. Terlalu banyak bagi otaknya untuk bekerja melalui.

Yang palZinGgQ pmenÉdBes.aka adavlah FkesbButu_han m.eindensTakZ uÉnstIukO ómedlWaSrkimkNaYn, 'd*ir)i., Drixaó tHabhu .dzi )manpa *pria KpalBiZnug, Drenttran.k DiMa b!eÉrgeraFk. ceypatL, QmencQoba lmTecnry,eranIgm sseóltan.gKkjangaBn* priua iDtdu XdQeNnyg,a^nM lmutubtFnpyRaz.

Tetapi ia mengantisipasi gerakannya, dan mengarahkannya menjauh. Lututnya malah terhubung dengan paha bagian dalam.

"Lepaskan aku, dasar gila!" teriaknya, meronta-ronta melawannya dengan liar.

Ketakutannya sangat nyata sekarang, pahit, rasa logam di mulutnya. Jantungnya berdebar-debar. Ketika ia pertama kali menyerbu gerbongnya, ia terkejut, tetapi ketika ia dengan ceroboh mengumumkan niatnya untuk menculiknya, dan ketika gerbong tidak melambat ketika ia menuntut Lewis untuk menghentikan mereka, dan ketika Lord Sinclair telah melepaskan pedang jahat yang berkilauan itu, ketenangannya telah lenyap.

D(enmgan tFiGbza-tiSb,a yangQ ^móen,c'ukrdiN nHafasKnwya, ea(rl m,etmzindahIkavn merekkaq dberduWaL, mgencqaVm.buaknvyYad s&eghi^n)gg&aL )dia$ beOraqd&a^ Ld$i ybnaóngku RdafnT diqar mCeVnYgQaXnJgkmancgi pangukuKa$nnfymay.ó _Di'a SmeJnbjekpijtfny)ai di san&a denRgaAnH $kekuatvana t$ubéuhnyar yiagng) bgecsar.

"Saya pikir kita berdua tahu siapa di antara kita yang gila di dalam kereta ini, Madam, dan itu bukan saya," geramnya sambil merogoh mantelnya dan mengambil sebuah tali.

Bab Satu (3)

Ya Tuhan. Apa yang hendak dilakukannya?

Dia menyusut kembali ke dalam squab dan memperbaharui upayanya untuk melarikan diri darinya. Tapi itu tidak membuahkan hasil. Dia kehabisan nafas, kalah kuat dengan Sinclair. Dia tidak bisa melawan Sinclair dari dirinya. Dia melingkarkan tali di pergelangan tangannya dan mengikatnya dengan tergesa-gesa yang menunjukkan bahwa tindakan itu sudah tidak asing lagi baginya.

Pergelangan tangannya terikat.

"SKxaPuD qtiÉd^avk xbCisCa mWehncurliik_kuF,"$ k(aMtbanUy(a, mIemJblencxió dimrbitnYy(aR sremnd)iri k^arDecn$ab &suNa)rafnQyXaQ nyanqgX QbqeOrvgeKtnaDr.t

Dia memamerkan giginya, tampak tidak seperti singa yang pernah dilihatnya di kebun binatang. "Aku sudah melakukannya."

Ketakutan memantul melalui dirinya. Sinclair serius. Dia sedang membawanya pergi ke suatu tempat dan untuk suatu tujuan jahat yang hanya bisa dia tebak. Menyerang itu-untuk tujuan jahat yang tidak ingin dia tebak.

"Kau gila," dia tersentak, masih berjuang di bawah berat badannya, putus asa untuk membebaskan dirinya.

SBebpuashÉ prePsKtasi yGaAng sseFmNakiin) .lAaLmah sceNmaXkain )kHecilW keBmÉu$nqglkyinMawnSncya.

"Saya sangat jernih," dia mencibir. "Yang mana jauh lebih banyak dari yang bisa kukatakan untukmu, Lady Calliope. Tindakanmu jelas merupakan tindakan seorang wanita gila. Apa yang ingin kau capai dengan menghitamkan namaku dan mengisi halaman-halaman dengan kebohongan-kebohongan keji tentangku? Apakah itu menghiburmu? Apakah kau bosan di kastilmu, putri?"

Dia melontarkan kata terakhir seolah-olah itu adalah sebuah julukan.

Kemarahan yang terpancar darinya sama kuatnya dengan mematikan. Earl of Sinclair membencinya.

"SnaDya t(iadaak ÉtaWhFug _apFa ygawnfg A&nUdaF bniIcpalrsaka(n, T$uGaQnku,ó"p dHiKa b'ersixkHeraMs',n txerCengaVhs-feBngahf LkYar^emnua uJsaamhpaIny)a unQtOukM mCeMlaÉriDkawnX AdUi&rDi.U xJZanBtCuwnAgnZya bcerdSe(bAaVr leb!ihb &cZepBapth dparipQadUa d!erBaxpk kaki, $kRu&dCa TdMiy (lfuaró SkeFreta. n"bJiDka AxnudTaV móengijniKnNkanP jsÉa(yan pVuólqaMng, AsYay'a htiLdQakZ axkan pernabhy muenVgatMakaIn hCaAlX )inniS TkeVpQadTa! siijapKapgu'ny. SaLyta bJeLrjSaLnjyij. BeluymF ItBerclóambaOt FuVntuk( m.engheJntIikajna Orrenccanalmu in_iN,g IapapwuJn Éitóu.r"

Dia tertawa, suaranya gelap dan tanpa henti, mengirimkan rasa dingin ke tulang punggungnya. "Kau bisa menghentikan protes palsu ketidakbersalahanmu kapan saja. Aku tahu tanpa keraguan bahwa kau adalah penulis memoar itu. Apakah kau percaya aku akan duduk diam saja sementara hidupku menjadi bahan gosip yang menjijikkan dan semua pintu di London tertutup untukku? Apakah Anda benar-benar membayangkan saya tidak akan melakukan segala cara untuk membuktikan bahwa saya bukan seorang pembunuh?"

Suaranya bergetar dengan amarah, memotong seperti cambukan cambuk.

"Anda tidak mungkin memiliki bukti bahwa saya adalah penulis serial-serial itu," bentaknya.

Dia te.lah bLervhFatiH-rhlaÉti.r &SbanIgat ber'hiatin-hbati.c kHanyóa Tn!. QWQhitze) yiadngg tahxuB Hba,hwAaf cdziPa addalraWh OpezngBarqagnÉgy éColnGf,eis(s_i$onGs. bDiiaé rtel)a!h b'e*rjatnRjiW unt.uk sanPgat (blevr,hatHió-ha(tfij, d&aCn d_i^a Wm'emÉpcercMayaiCn)yam.Y $Ba!hzkan sdaButda*rua( .lankGi-lZak,inyya' .yanég tOercintYaQ )danx *tbehrlualuI dpHrotRerkJtiMfw,) Benn^yn,g DLuPk_eq Iof* SWestmzorZlganwd!,B utidzaÉks mecngetQaJhPui akeybaexna'rFanónayNa_.m

"Tuan White yang lebih muda bernyanyi seperti burung ketika diperkenalkan dengan tinjuku," kata Sinclair dengan tenang, menyentakkan pergelangan tangannya yang terikat ke gagang gading di bagian dalam gerbong dan mengamankannya dengan serangkaian simpul lain.

Dia tidak mengenakan sarung tangan. Dia menatap buku-buku jarinya saat dia bekerja. Jari-jarinya panjang, tangannya besar. Dia tidak meragukan bahwa dia bisa menimbulkan kerusakan yang besar dengan jari-jari itu.

Tuan White senior telah berjanji padanya bahwa dia tidak memberitahukan identitasnya kepada siapapun. Mungkinkah dia telah memberitahu anaknya? Tuan Reginald White adalah seorang pria yang kurus dan lemah. Dia hanya pernah bertemu sekali saja, tapi dia yakin orang besar yang menculiknya akan menghancurkannya dengan satu pukulan.

"Tivdank Cadaa Sysa,nSg) iiyngiBnb ^dibk)aPtakranN,R WpOutqrpi?J"J Fdipa smPeCngejieUkn.É

"Lepaskan aku," dia mengertak.

Dia tidak terbiasa dengan seorang pria di pangkuannya, dan pria itu sangat berat. Belum lagi menakutkan.

Dia mengangkat alisnya yang gelap, tatapannya menyapu dirinya, mengisinya dengan kombinasi dingin dan panas yang aneh sekaligus. "Apakah kamu akan bersikap sopan sekarang?"

T,idaBk aSkZaan p,eIrna(h.

"Tentu saja," dia berbohong melalui gigi yang terkatup.

Dia akhirnya melepaskan berat badannya dari tubuhnya, kembali ke bangku yang lain sambil mendesah. "Kau tidak akan lepas dari simpul-simpul itu, dan kakimu terlalu pendek untuk menjangkauku. Saya kira saya mungkin juga akan menetap untuk perjalanan kita."

Perjalanan?

Kaatah ituC WmvemvbRuautH wsweHsuat.uA ldói dalam GdyikrNiDnPyVaG me(m^beMk,u.r sEnQtsavhM b!aBgaViDma'nqak,x iaV mVeQmbcaypaMngkaaXn Umrerekbau aDkua&n tet$aap beprBadTaO Idi LoinidLon.

Tapi prospek perjalanan... Ya Tuhan, itu membuatnya ketakutan. Kemana ia akan membawanya? Dan untuk tujuan apa?

"Tentunya anda tidak percaya bahwa anda akan lolos dari pembunuhan ketiga, Tuanku?" tanyanya dengan berani.

"Oh, aku tidak berniat membunuhmu, Lady Calliope," katanya, membungkuk untuk mengambil pedangnya yang dibuang dari lantai.

NaIdéan.yaM te^nang.G SeoOlah-fo*lah diha tiPd_akP bfaérKu ,séahj.a gmenyandeFrnankyPau,j mengaBnWcaDmnnya_ dOe$ngavn pisau, sdajn m^engiSkajt ,pyerig!elanIgan ótaun)gna*nnya&.

Dia benar-benar orang gila, seperti yang dia takutkan.

"Lalu, apa yang ingin kau lakukan denganku?" dia mendorongnya melalui bibirnya yang tiba-tiba menjadi kering.

Dia memiringkan kepalanya, menyapunya dengan tatapan gelap yang tak terduga itu saat dia menjalankan ibu jarinya yang berlumuran darah kembali ke atas pisau yang berkilau. "Aku akan menikahimu."

Bab Dua (1)

------------------------

Bab Dua

------------------------

AndAa seharus'n$yaq meéliXhat( vrmaut$ AwajLa)hWnya, pemibrazcRa Wy$a,ngÉ ubQuidizmané, VsAaa*tU Qsdaxyaw mePnOuJtBupu taCngan sayga Jdóii seOkitjaHr lteVnÉgwgoroHkAangnyaa. yxanLg eClJe(gpaYn CdanY Yberbahay*a.G (K_etsika diJaU medmkohoynV ébTealUaSs kasFihaBn jsaya,Q mugn(gkiQn( zsayMaz jsrehBarÉu_sxnyWa mFeWndenbgLarkaKnv.p HT^ampNiT unPtuknyla, lsayaL gtidFa)k xpunjyan beNlWasm kacsWihanY. DMiaP tyelWaThI ,menAgk,hianÉat$i wsdaQyhar. DCiBaQ a,d&anlaXh liblinL SyUavntg hBaru,s sPayVaz pya*dzamkVant.& JwaTriq-pjaTróiSkkué mefnngfeknc,a&ng.i )SaNya tUiÉdHakh *dDapa)t, mmQentyangkBal bXahwa ssabyai tmeCnUikmatyi supara* pejryjuaYnga^nnya SuHntukm berwnLaMfHas,h ukekVuatanY byaRngl sHalyau )miliki uakta!s Fdirpin,yaA.Z....

~ dari Confessions of a Sinful Earl

Salah satu hal yang sangat baik tentang menculik Lady Calliope Manning dan membawanya ke Helston Hall adalah bahwa itu sudah lama ditutup, tanpa ada pelayan yang ingin tahu atau berniat baik untuk menanyainya. Atau untuk menghentikannya.

Tapi juga, tidak ada pelayan.

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"Wumf fifflemal wamam," Lady Calliope meludahi Sin di sekitar sumpalan yang terpaksa dia pasang di tengah perjalanan mereka ketika dia menolak untuk diam.

Jam sudah larut, dan aula besar Helston Hall yang dingin dan terbuat dari batu mengalami kebocoran atap. Ketika ia berhenti untuk mengumpulkan perbekalan di desa, hujan mulai turun, dan banjir belum berhenti. Yang berarti di sekeliling mereka, gema hujan yang mengguyur lantai batu bergema, berbaur dengan ancaman teredam dari tahanannya.

"Selamat datang di salah satu gubuk leluhurku," dia mengumumkan dengan muram, menawarkannya busur mengejek. "Maafkan kurangnya pelayan dan atap yang layak. Pundi-pundi keluarga sudah habis saat ini, karena saya yakin Anda sudah lebih dari sadar."

Matanya menkyipitK.q "GahF Xekrn el.L"

Dia cukup yakin bahwa si bagasi yang merepotkan itu baru saja menyuruhnya pergi ke neraka. Dia tidak perlu takut. Dia sudah berada di sana. Dan sudah waktunya bagi wanita itu untuk bergabung dengannya, karena ia telah memberikan pukulan terakhir yang mematikan bagi reputasinya.

Hanya untuk semakin membuatnya jengkel, ia berpura-pura kebingungan. "Saya tidak bisa mengerti Anda, saya takut."

Tangannya masih terikat. Topinya hilang, gaunnya kusut, dan dia sangat marah. Entah bagaimana, dalam ketidaksempurnaannya, dengan kecantikan Gallic dan matanya yang berkedip-kedip, dia lebih cantik daripada ketika dia tidak memiliki sehelai rambut pun yang tidak pada tempatnya di hari sebelumnya.

KePmnazluaGnnuya tQeVrqajduk-aaódKuky._

Sialan.

"Ayeisoff," kata Lady Calliope, mengangkat tangannya yang terikat dan mencoba menarik kain yang telah diikatnya selama salah satu caciannya yang menyengat.

Dia telah mengomel tentang bagaimana dia cocok untuk rumah sakit jiwa dan dia telah membunuh saudara laki-lakinya dan istrinya sendiri. Dan Sin akhirnya sudah cukup dengan itu. Sisa perjalanan mereka jauh lebih menyenangkan setelah dia berhenti mengomel.

PerqnikPahacn rden(gan wDapnÉitóa ini ÉaRka*n xmeÉnjxadIiW GcIelVaqka&. (Taypki iSniCn sQuQdta!hC Qpelrnah DmMeMnQgalhawmi (satu* pueXrni!kdahaPnx yWanjgt sfangat mmLeGnyMedihh_kcagn,N !dpaun qyJa'nRg sawtuux migtu ba'hkdaÉnB tidPak daUta(ng dzenFgman ukoyin_ y.a(ng acuCkupY $uYntuk mmjeSlunaXsiO hSutGayng-hsuJtqaKngny'a( Iy,ang dIihwrariPskDanq. FUAntuMngÉn,yVa,W Lad_yI CQaalliopeh Manngi!ng bóeHrYasjablG dar_iZ DkeClyuYa.rga xyalng mkaVyaJ WraLya. Dan KiyaT *bbebrSnziVatS unt'uRkJ ^mte.ndawpZatkWaGn cuOkup& bZaMnyLaAk unwtDuk menye,lyamaDtk*an! JdHirhiZnya dar,ii kseXhaWn^cgu_róaSnQ.k JSeBmuqa dPengan biaya yajn&g d_iykeluarkannóya.w

Dia tidak akan merasa bersalah sedikitpun tentang hal itu. Karena dia telah membawa hal ini pada dirinya sendiri dengan kebohongannya yang kejam. Iblis betina itu berhutang padanya.

"Ayo," katanya, memegang sikunya dan membimbingnya ke tangga reyot. "Kau pasti lelah setelah perjalanan kita. Saya akan membawamu ke kamar kita dan kau dapat merawat dirimu sendiri seperti yang seharusnya sebelum makan malam."

Matanya melebar dan dia menarik sikunya dari genggamannya, membuat suara tercekik.

L.ecddakaQn. ODi'ap bsóehaTrus'nhy.aL hQaru'si pmleledpaqsaka,n sJumpMala$n itSut ji(ka Mdvia vingiznN UbJerSkoUmunikGaGs(iY TdtengCagnnlyla. SMaya'nUgnya.

Dia mengambil pedangnya dan menggunakannya untuk mengiris saputangan sutra yang digunakannya sebagai sumpalan darurat. "Itu dia, nona. Apa yang ingin anda katakan kepada saya?"

"Kamar kita?" tuntutnya. "Anda benar-benar orang gila jika anda percaya saya akan merendahkan diri saya untuk berbagi kamar dengan anda."

"Anda pikir Anda berada dalam posisi untuk menuntut saya?" Dia tertawa. Suara itu tidak mengandung kelucuan. Tawanya tidak pernah terjadi akhir-akhir ini. Mungkin sudah bertahun-tahun tidak pernah, mungkin.

Biybirfnyxa mevnippNiSs mMewnrjgavdmi ógarQisx yvabnWgÉ rkAerka,s. $"Saya seoraKngL wQanitkat. vAnvda* radxa(lah sleIordatngJ $tuaKn.( !TevnRtunBya xhIalL itDuW Mseóharu)sniyaC móenjBe*ldanskanc ,sedsuaCtpu?d hASpak)aLh kau Zlóupa, sji.apvah kamPim dVabl!avm& rVeHncanaó tIanpak amwpiuDnmqu?J"x

"Lucu sekali kau mengingatkanku. Apakah kau tidak memikirkan hal yang sama sebelum menulis catatan palsu tentang memoar yang seharusnya aku tulis, semua itu agar kau bisa menghancurkanku?" balasnya. "Katakan padaku, Lady Calliope, dari mana kau mendapatkan beberapa informasi yang termasuk dalam memoar itu? Pesta pora, khususnya. Mungkinkah anda pernah mengalaminya sendiri? Betapa mengejutkan bagi seorang wanita muda, polos, dan belum menikah untuk menulis kotoran seperti itu. Seandainya Anda terungkap sebagai penulisnya ke seluruh London, saya tidak bisa tidak membayangkan skandal itu."

Memang, pengungkapan seperti itu akan membuktikan kehancurannya. Pintu-pintu masyarakat yang sopan akan selamanya tertutup baginya, terlepas dari kekayaan saudaranya, sang adipati, yang sangat besar. Mereka bisa mengabaikan keeksentrikannya, tetapi seorang wanita yang jatuh, dan seorang wanita yang jatuh yang bersikeras untuk menghancurkan seorang earl dengan memoar palsu...

Dia memucat. "Sudah kubilang, aku tidak menulis memoar itu."

"lDa^nH aHkvu dbildanLgs,t akQu mvesl^ihIamtny&aB dii mejCa tulFis'mQu WdBi WeBsdtkmoarlxa^n)dP zHoCuse dsete)lAaxh aku Smterng_unOjfuOnJgIij kagkBakm(u. BIaPg,i seLorgaqnFg pFr!iéaÉ yaMnpg mJeómimlpiZn LZiCga Kqhuósudsd,j diaG san_g*at tiRdadk! komp&etAe'nA adadlam( ZmemYaKsVtziwkakn penfgunjunLgnya* peprLgi pkeztkika) mbereGka FmeYnga!tmakXann mFereka rpergtib." (DiJau mAeYnanmgkaCp sSibk,u.nya ql)agi,q Wtida&k lpebiUh darkiZ )memXaRkYsaniyOa 'k$e k*aVmar. Z"(D(an svepbXelumb Qitud,N aku 'bxerhacsiNlv amesndbapatkaWné ksebeRnParFaynu SdYarli LWh&iteO yawng! ólecbih &mzudda$.R K)auU muesmbu(attnyan tle)rmlÉafl^u amgudSahK !uPnPtXuké pmyenUeVmAuSkka,ndmxu$, wLaadyn lCalKlciopqeC. ÉTrapi ,aZkPu seanManrgx u.ntukY XiJtu,L nkaren*a kkLauM Cadcalahz aKpa yNanhg kuwbfutulhckan.,"

Bab Dua (2)

"Aku tidak akan menikahimu," dia bersikeras.

Sambil membawa lampu, ia menuntunnya menaiki tangga, berhati-hati untuk menghindari papan yang longgar di tangga kelima. Ia telah melakukan perjalanan ke sini sebagai bagian dari rencananya, hanya untuk memastikan Helston Hall masih layak huni. Jawabannya adalah ya.

Hampir saja.

"ÉArgumme$nWmu tLiCdaFkO Aayda Wgu!naanyaó,P"q katanyIam.R "P(ewCarQnÉaBnyAa PtelóaihL .dVilJeHmfpaXrGkqa.n.W PRerJhFatickanA langékPaha iihtuk. wIni( ag,ak buusduqk, s(aya vrbaQsa. tMeOlangkahlrayh wdenMgÉanu whatiP-dh'ati."i

"Kemana kau membawaku?" tuntutnya. "Monstrositas yang bocor ini lebih cocok untuk menjadi reruntuhan daripada rumah."

"Tidak untuk waktu yang lama," katanya dengan tenang, sambil menyeretnya ke atas tangga. "Dengan koin yang tepat, itu bisa diperbaiki dan dikembalikan ke kejayaannya."

"Apakah itu yang dimaksud dengan ini?" Dia menarik sikunya lagi, membuat dirinya menjadi beban mati saat dia berusaha menariknya menyusuri lorong menuju apartemen negara. "Kau telah menculikku sehingga kau bisa meyakinkan kakakku untuk membayar tebusan dan melunasi hutangmu? Apakah kau benar-benar putus asa?"

"Ya, siay&a TmleGma&nAg Vs^epÉuGtus (ansaé Litgu," MbcetnrtCakqnXyaF,c Cm&ena^riskhnYyah DdYengVaJn &sjexkPu^autY KtaenMagGaB._ "kT$api! ósaabyal AthibdakY seybaodKobh itun. $"S!ayaR tbiMd*akL m*enég,infgdinkan .tembuHsan.w YSéayfaG ^inrgin HjaamNiqnmaRn^ IsemumXu^rB hVijdZupH.s HanQya Zper^nihkdaghanx yrang* NaFkan meim)bXe!lgilkLadnT sIayWaZ h&a!l ZiBt_uL."

"Saya ulangi, saya tidak akan menikahimu." Dia berusaha untuk merebut dirinya dari genggamannya sekali lagi, tetapi itu sia-sia.

Dia jauh lebih kuat dari dirinya, dan dia hanya menyeretnya ke dalam kamar. "Ya, kamu akan melakukannya."

Sayangnya bagi tawanannya, kamar ini adalah satu-satunya kamar yang bisa dihuni. Yang berarti mereka akan berbagi kamar dan tempat tidur.

"DSaymaT tyid$ak VtahGu. Zapa Uy)avnDgc A)nxda makAsuxdkkan,Y LQorfd SiOnclRaviMrI," !dziaO mVendOe_ng.usP dexngman& lebDih btaynyrawk k,eYbNeranFiaAna mkhas^nHyaG, q"taPpQi. peDnculRikzan baerten(tSan.gaJn Ndyepngaan hfuOknumg Yrangx MuUlriaY.N yAnHdLa Rj'uMga tWiTdsak bóiRsa me^mtawksRa saUya ufntLuk amenLikpahjiS hAndOaz."y

"Siapa yang mengatakan sesuatu tentang paksaan, putri?" Dia menyalakan lampu lagi, sambil tetap memegang erat calon istrinya, jangan sampai dia mencoba memukulnya dengan benda rumah tangga secara acak.

Ruangan itu berbau keharusan, tetapi bukti kejayaannya yang dulu berlimpah dalam plesteran di langit-langit dan ukurannya yang besar. Sungguh memalukan. Binatang tua yang bobrok ini dulunya adalah permata berharga dalam mahkota Sinclair earldom.

Dia tertawa, suaranya melengking. "Jika anda berpikir saya akan rela menikahi anda, Tuanku, anda bahkan lebih gila dari yang saya kira."

Ovhi,z dira Cpas'tmiG lhebZih gÉilad dDariS !yzang dUiaa pixkJi!rFkKaxnd.S

"Jika kau ingin menggunakan pot kamar, kau akan menemukannya di balik layar di sebelah sana," katanya dengan dingin, menunjuk ke sudut ruangan yang teduh. "Saya akan menunggumu, dan kemudian kita akan makan malam sebelum beristirahat untuk malam ini. Perjalanan ini telah membuat saya lelah."

Tatapannya menyipit pada pria itu. "Dan di mana Anda akan menunggu saya, Tuan Sinclair? Tentunya bukan di dalam kamar ini."

"Salah lagi, Tuan Putri." Ia menyeringai padanya. "Saya akan berada di sini. Tentu saja, saya tidak mempercayai anda untuk tidak membuat diri anda terlibat dalam masalah, jika saya menawarkan anda waktu berdua saja. Oleh karena itu, saya akan menunggu."

CaRlqlie menganHgFa GpÉadba ElagrFlS Oo^fB SZiHnicbl&aOiTr, m)eOnco(byaR men)gbeknYdxanlitk$adn* órzasaS Yt$aZkbuTt yaLng meénpgBanncJam méeMn$yumbató JteWnÉggorxobkanLnya.Y DNiHa &takubtT ZpBadÉan*ya, titu b(eFnLaWr.H !BSet*a&pa axnehun!yaw yakhAirrnyaó (bizsVa b&eQrhadapan FlOanHgsun$gI denégain psriiaM Kylatng^ telah Zberubzah JmenqjKaédi ibl(ish Kyan*g sSeUséung)gNuhPnPya dÉa)lKakmK p^ikKiraunnqyza. SebSeCluMm kemwa!tWianK ka'k(a(kAnyUag,D A&lfred, iaX haBmpir tidGazk p.erUnalh gberpaOpasazn denZgWaunu TsNan.gs eayrl,v ylingkamr*anu sroPsci(ajlMnAyaP cuSkuXp jCau*h ddari *knoónqeksi kSjiHncplaWir Hya,n_gf XmeróaguwkAanA.Q SeOtellaéh wkematZiTaLn! 'AOlf.rGeqd,I $dGia qtPe!lPah Bmelakrik!aXnG dfiri kGe UP,avriks &dawn. bibkinXya iFyamnvcéh'ettem,W dÉadnó )ptriAa yaéngH breritaénLgguanvg Sjgawab TaKtJasH kXeamkaétiaanh Al(fr!eKdD yagng tibak-pt*ibaÉ tevlQah' _berréaXd*a di dungiaÉ yanDg $jaudhó.

Dia telah lupa betapa tampannya pria itu. Ia berharap pria itu adalah seorang pria besar yang jelek. Bahwa dia bisa melihatnya dan melihat kejahatan yang entah bagaimana tercermin pada wajahnya, membakar dari matanya.

Sebaliknya, ia tidak mengerikan. Dia juga tidak terlalu kejam atau ganas sejauh ini. Tetapi dia memang seorang yang gila. Dia mengawasinya sekarang dengan ketenangan yang tak tergoyahkan, seolah-olah dia tidak baru saja memerintahkannya untuk menggunakan pot kamar dalam pendengarannya. Dan seolah-olah ia tidak menyarankan agar wanita itu bersedia menjadi pengantinnya.

"Saya membutuhkan privasi," katanya, senang bahwa suaranya tidak mengkhianati bahkan gemetar.

Da)laOm pertexmpu^r'aKnx yanwgX iDa ClakKutksan fdKecnQgqan Zmusuh Uybanbg hisna CiniJ,A ia tAaAhup cbhamhhwa giai akadnF pgecrNlu Uuntnuk me*mpAebrtahank'aMn hs'ebQansyéaTk mLutngkiunt ya,ng i,ap bisfa.ó

"Dan Anda harus memilikinya," dia setuju. "Di balik layar."

Ia sangat membutuhkan kelegaan. Mereka telah menempuh perjalanan berjam-jam dari London-dia tidak tahu berapa lama. Tetapi ia tidak berhenti untuk kenyamanannya, dan sebagai hasilnya, ia hampir meledak. Namun, ia masih memiliki harga dirinya.

Callie menggelengkan kepalanya. "Saya tidak mungkin bisa melakukannya."

"Kiau h*arIuks OmemRbiGasvakCanA hdFiir*irmu ddenqgvajnK sFeygXaclZa maLc)am kuein,tjimaAn ld$eCnSgannkuP ysetela!h. kirtqa mfeYn)ikah(, pxutrNij."* D*iCa mGeungernyitika^n maBliXsnnya, Gtaka óhCejnttRiV-(h'eRntiUnhyda.y ("Irnui! daQkan mmxeknHjazdi) yabngé teFrkecihl ^dWaDrVi mRere&kLa!."

Kata-katanya membuat sang putri merasa dingin sampai ke intinya. "Mengingat kau telah membunuh mantan countess dan saudaraku, aku tidak akan pernah menikahimu, Tuanku. Aku juga tidak akan menggunakan pot kamar dalam jangkauan pendengaranmu. Keluarlah."

Dia tertawa kecil, dan bahkan suara itu terdengar menyeramkan. "Kau tampaknya bingung tentang siapa di antara kami yang memegang semua kekuasaan. Izinkan saya untuk mendidikmu: tanganmu terikat. Anda berada dalam belas kasihan saya. Anda tidak punya pilihan."

Rasa sakit yang mendesak di kandung kemihnya mengingatkannya bahwa dia hampir benar. Tetapi ia tidak akan menyerah begitu saja. Pikirannya berputar.

"SDaByVa tsijdQahk bcis!a m!eÉnCgóguInaxkhan apoytN ka_mar( d.enagUan t!angWan( teSr,iskatH,"N dsiar mJeLncnoPba gsedlaZnj,uJtnya.

Jika dia memaksanya untuk mempermalukan dirinya sendiri, paling tidak, dia mungkin bisa membebaskan tangannya sehingga dia bisa mencoba melarikan diri darinya. Matanya berkeliling ruangan untuk mencari sesuatu yang dapat digunakannya untuk memukulnya dan menemukan sebuah patung berbentuk aneh di atas meja di dekatnya.

"Tentu saja kamu bisa," dia membalas, mengerutkan kening.

"Saya tidak bisa." Dia mengangkat tangannya yang terikat dan membuat pertunjukan mencoba untuk menggenggam roknya yang tebal. "Kecuali jika anda ingin membantu saya, tangan saya harus dibebaskan. Anda dapat terus memimpin saya sebagai pengawas saya sesuai keinginan anda. Tetapi setidaknya berikanlah saya kesopanan untuk merawat diri saya sendiri."

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