Velvet Embrace

Brie cried out in warning, but she realized an instant later that her shout hadn't been needed. Dominic had given the appearance of letting down his guard, but he had obviously been anticipating Germain's action, since he managed to ward off the sudden attack with surprising quickness.

The clash of steel rang out, reverberating in the small room, while Brie's heart rose to her throat and stayed there. She backed against the wall, out of range of the flashing blades, where she anxiously watched the two combatants.

The fight seemed so unequal. In spite of his agility and superb physical conditioning, Dominic's skill was drastically diminished without the use of his sword arm. His defense was slow, even awkward at times, and the sweat glistening on his brow told her that his reflexes were being strained to the limit. When he barely parried a thrust in time, Brie's hand flew to her mouth, smothering a cry.

Germain, on the other hand, had not yet begun to labor. He fought conservatively at first, but he seemed to gain confidence each time he lunged. And his advantage was beginning to tell. Although he hadn't yet broken through his opponent's guard, he was continuously driving, pressuring Dominic to retreat again and again.

Brie had no idea how long they fought—it could have been minutes or hours—but the interval stretched into an eternity. She bit deeply into her knuckle when Germain gave a sudden leap and crashed into Dominic. His thrusting blade swung wide, but the impact sent both men hurtling over the back of a sofa to the floor. They were both on their feet in an instant, warily circling each other once more.

Unwilling to give up his advantage, Germain pressed the attack. His foil hissed as it made a slashing arc, and the point found Dominic's left shoulder, slicing through his shirt and leaving a deep gash from which blood welled freely.

Dominic stumbled backward, but Germain didn't let up for even an instant. Once more he advanced, flinging a small table from his path with a snarl, sending it crashing to the floor. Once more Dominic retreated, whirling away at the last moment as Germain's blade sliced through the air.

Seeing the triumphant gleam in Germain's eyes, Brie shuddered. She had never seen such hatred and lust for blood as was on his face, and she knew if sheer malevolence could win, he would have been declared the victor before the battle had ever been joined.

He moved slowly toward Dominic, stalking him like he would wounded prey, while Dominic backed away, moving ever deeper into a corner of the room. When she saw how Dominic was boxing himself in, Brie wanted to scream out a warning. But she bit her knuckle until she tasted blood, knowing that any sound she made might prove to be a fatal distraction.

Dominic's back was pressed against the wall before he finally stopped retreating. Brie couldn't see Germain's gloating expression, since he was facing away from her, but she could see the slow, taunting smile that curled Dominic's lips. That mocking smile seemed to infuriate Germain, for he growled and made a wild lunge.

Forever afterward Brie would remember that terrifying moment when the two combatants stood locked together. The room became deathly still, and she felt her heart stop beating. An endless moment elapsed before anything happened. Then slowly, Germain slumped to the floor.

It was another moment before Brie even registered that it wasn't Dominic who lay sprawled on the floor, a rapier buried deep in his chest. She gave an anguished sob and took a faltering step toward him. In response, Dominic turned his head to meet her gaze across the room.

One side of his waistcoat was stained a bright crimson, while his face was ashen, the color of dirty snow. Brie saw his lips twist in a faint smile. Then, before she could break out of her horrified trance, Dominic swayed and sank to the floor beside Germain.

Chapter Twenty

A full thirty-six hours passed before Dominic regained consciousness. When he woke, it was to find Jason slumped in a chair beside his bed, looking disheveled and weary. Morning sunlight streamed in the open window and the cheerful dancing rays set devils pounding in Dominic's skull. He winced at the bright light, wishing he were still unconscious.

When he raised a hand to shield his eyes, Jason roused himself and sat up. "Well, at last! I was beginning to wonder if you would pull through. How do you feel?"

"Like the very devil," Dominic rasped, his voice sounding strangely hoarse. When Jason chuckled in relief, Dominic frowned. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yes. And the night before that as well. I arrived just before Jacques carried you in. I would have been here sooner except that I lost Germain's trail. He escaped by killing his guard, and I—"

Dominic reached out to grip Jason's arm. "Brie . . . where is she? Is she all right?"

Jason didn't seem surprised by the anxious question. "I imagine she is in her room," he replied calmly. "After the doctor stitched that gash in your shoulder, he gave Miss Carringdon a draught to make her sleep. She hadn't stirred last night when Katherine Hewitt came in to check on you. And yes," Jason added when Dominic's grip tightened, "I believe she is all right, or at least as well as any woman can be after an ordeal like that. I really didn't get a chance to speak to her about it. I was too busy preventing the doctor from bleeding you."

Dominic relaxed his grip and leaned back against the pillows, shutting his eyes. "Damn his soul," he cursed in a toneless voice.

Jason didn't have to guess whom he meant. "Well, I expect Germain is well on his way to perdition by now. You'd do better to concern yourself with Julian. He's still fuming because you wouldn't allow him to go with you to find Germain. He wanted to kill the bastard himself."

When Dominic didn't answer, Jason picked up a glass of water from the bedside table and held it to his patient's dry lips, ordering him to drink. He was prepared for an argument, but Dominic obeyed wordlessly.

"Don't let it eat on you, Dom," Jason said quietly when the glass was empty. "Brie's a survivor. She'll manage to get over it. She was rather pale when Jacques brought her here, but she had full command of herself. In fact she seemed more concerned about your injuries than anything else. She wouldn't drink her medicine until you had been sewn up, and I nearly had to force her to leave."

Clenching his black-shadowed jaw, Dominic focused his gaze on the window. "I want to see her."

Jason stood up, rubbing the stubble on his own chin. "I wouldn't advise it just yet. You look like death, and you need a bath and a shave more than I do. Besides, that bandage needs to be changed. I'll go fetch some clean linen to bind your arm and send a man up to help make you presentable. I can't allow Miss Carringdon to visit you when you aren't wearing a stitch to hide your naked splendor."

When Dominic scowled with a semblance of his former spirit and said adamantly that he refused to be nursemaided, Jason merely grinned. "Be quiet, Dom. You're my patient now and I intend to see that you have proper care. And," he added sweetly when Dominic flung a particularly violent oath at him, "you'll eat before you talk to Miss Carringdon."

Dominic swore again as Jason left the room, but as soon as he was alone, he raised himself to a sitting position. The effort was far harder than he had expected. By the time he had managed to haul himself from the bed, he was breathing heavily and his body was covered with sweat.

He struggled into his dressing gown, but when a wave of dizziness nearly overcame him, he clung to the bedpost and waited for the weakness to pass. He was still leaning there when the door to the bedchamber flew open.

Julian stood in the doorway, glaring, his feet planted in a belligerent stance, his face flushed with anger. He barely gave Dominic time to lift his head before he crossed the room in two giant strides and drew back his fist. The punch he let go nearly dislocated Dominic's jaw as it sent him sprawling across the bed.