Velvet Embrace

After what seemed like an endless number of flights, they reached the ground floor. Germain came to a halt, jerking her up by the collar, then stood listening, very much like a fox sniffing the wind. Brie took a long shuddering breath and cautiously looked about her, trying to get her bearings.

The front door was immediately to her left, shut tightly and well bolted. The sight of those heavy drawn bolts made her heart sink, but they must have reassured her captor, for he gave her a push toward the room across the hall. "We will wait in there," he said, forcibly directing her footsteps.

Light was streaming brightly from the open door, and Brie winced as it struck her eyes. She took three steps into the room, then halted abruptly, her heart leaping with joy and terror. Dominic sat in a large armchair facing them, looking very much at ease as he held a pistol trained on them.

Brie felt her fair-haired captor stiffen, but before she even had time to think, he had dragged her in front of him and was pressing his knife against her side. "How did you get in here?" he ground out, addressing Dominic.

A lamp stood on the mantle behind Dominic, the bright light casting his face in shadow, but Brie could see his lip curl. "My dear Charles, were you not expecting me?"

His tone was soft and mocking, but at the sound of his beloved voice, Brie swayed. Not even the bite of cold steel against her ribs could dampen her relief at seeing him again.

"How did you get past Martin?" Germain demanded, making Brie feel his rage as he held her so tightly.

"Jacques handled your henchman easily enough," Dominic replied. "You forget that I once was quite familiar with this particular house. But I might ask you a similar question. How did you manage to escape Jason's watchful eye? I shall have a word to say about his laxity when I next see him."

Charles raised his knife, pressing the sharp edge threateningly against Brie's throat. "You will put down that pistol if you want her to live."

Dominic hesitated, his gray eyes flicking over Brie as if he were seriously deliberating. Then he shrugged. "Do what you will with her. She is nothing to me. I've felt her claws once too often to care what becomes of her."

Hearing his casual denouncement, Brie paled. Her eyes were huge and haunted as she stared at Dominic, not wanting to believe she had heard him correctly. Then she saw his mouth twist in a sardonic smile. "Perhaps I should have adopted your method of silencing her," he said, sounding amused. "A knife is a bit uncivilized, but effective. I've not heard her sharp tongue stilled until this moment."

His cruel words cut Brie more deeply than any knife. She had always known Dominic didn't love her, but she had thought he might care enough to try and rescue her. That hope that had sustained her in her moments of paralyzing fear, but she realized now how foolish she had been. He had come, not to rescue her, but to carry out a vendetta against his enemy. It was nothing to him if Charles Germain ended her life with his blade.

Overwhelmed by pain and anger. Brie began to struggle, no longer caring that a ruthless madman was holding a knife at her throat. When Germain swore and ordered her to be still, Dominic laughed harshly. "See, the vixen would like nothing better than to carve out my heart and serve it on a platter. Keep a good hold on her, Charles, I beg you. Even unarmed, she can be dangerous."

"You're lying, Stanton! Martin saw you with her more than once. You were so hot for the bitch, you couldn't keep your hands to yourself."

"Can you fault me?" Dominic replied laconically, ignoring the taunt. "The pleasures of her delightful body are without peer—as you well know if she has shared your bed."

"Indeed," Charles smirked as his hand swept upward to fondle Brie's breast. Brie closed her eyes, shuddering with revulsion.

Dominic leaned back in his chair. "You're welcome to her, Charles, but I ought to warn you—she's only interested in marriage. She tried to trick me into offering for her just last week. I was even tempted to let myself be caught, she pleads so convincingly."

Knowing that for a bold-faced lie, Brie opened her eyes to stare at Dominic. He was looking directly at her, the piercing intentness of his gaze at odds with his casual pose. It seemed as if he were trying to communicate something to her.

Reading the silent message in his eyes, she suddenly understood his intention; he was pretending not to care merely to direct Germain's attention away from her. A wave of relief washed over her, leaving her weak. Whatever Dominic's feelings for her, he wouldn't enjoy watching her die.

"But I didn't come here to quarrel with you over the lady," Dominic said, switching his gaze to Germain. "I came to discuss the boy I turned over to you here in this house, the one you later killed. You remember Nicholas Dumonde, don't you, Charles? You said his death was accidental—but it wasn't, was it? And you knew he was Durham's bastard. I thought perhaps you did," he added dryly, watching his opponent's face.

When Germain didn't reply, Dominic smiled a decidedly nasty smile. "You covered your tracks well, Charles, I must admit. Durham never knew. Ironic, was it not, that he later hired his son's murderer to kill the man he thought responsible?"

His voice lowered to a mere whisper then. "You will die for that, Charles. By my hand. I could shoot you. However . . ." His tone became normal again, sounding almost pleasant, as if he were proposing a stroll through the park. "However, I am prepared to be magnanimous and offer you a sporting chance. I brought a pair of foils

for us to use. I imagine you are almost recovered from your wound, and as you can see," he indicated the sling that supported his right arm, "I have sustained one of my own. That will give you a decided advantage, since I will have to fight left-handed.

"You needn't look for your henchman to appear," he added when Germain threw a glance over his shoulder. "Jacques is keeping him occupied. Well, what is it to be, Charles?" Slipping his arm from the sling, Dominic transferred his pistol to his right hand but kept it trained on his foe as he stood up. Reaching behind him where a pair of rapiers lay on the mantle, he grasped one in his left hand and tested the blade, making the air hiss around him.

"Well, Charles?" Dominic repeated. "Shall we fight, or do you mean to hide behind a woman's skirts all evening?"

As Charles weighed his chances, Brie watched Dominic, unable to tear her gaze away. When she felt the increasing pressure of the blade at her throat, she held her breath, waiting for the cold steel to pierce her throat.

But then Germain shifted the knife to his left hand in order to free his sword arm. He deftly caught the foil Dominic tossed him and stood holding Brie while Dominic divested himself of his sling and coat.

Those moments passed with agonizing slowness for Brie. Her mind felt strangely divorced from her body, as if she were watching a stage drama as an impassive observer rather than an active participant. She could feel Germain's tenseness, and glancing over her shoulder, she could see the beads of perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. When she saw the brightly stained bandage that wrapped Dominic's arm, however, Brie caught her breath in a gasp. The sleeve of his lawn shirt was soaked in blood, and his silk waistcoat was already flecked with red. Dominic had been telling the truth, Brie realized with dismay. Wounded as he was, he wouldn't just be at a disadvantage; it would be a miracle if he survived!

Brie couldn't bear to think of the outcome of such an uneven contest. Dominic's life was far more important to her than his love, more important even than her own life. Her anguished-eyes flew to his face, and when she saw he was watching her, she returned his gaze steadily, baring her very soul in that timeless glance, her fierce love for him glowing brightly in her eyes as she silently wished him strength and courage and victory.

Dominic at last tore his gaze away. Tossing his coat in the chair, he lowered his pistol and turned to place it on the mantle, his back making a wide target as he reached for the second foil. That seemed to be the moment Germain had been waiting for, for he flung Brie to one side and lunged at his opponent.