Brynn watched, her breath frozen in her throat as the Frenchman jerked his arm free. Drawing back, he struck again, flailing with the dagger.
She moved forward, helplessly aiming her pistol, but just then, Lucian rolled free. Panting for breath, the Frenchman leapt up and made a dash for the entrance to the tunnel. Climbing wearily to his feet, Lucian sprinted after him.
>
Brynn started to follow but threw a desperate glance over her shoulder at her wounded brother.
“Go… I’ll be all right…” Gray rasped. “Try to save him.”
She lunged for the tunnel where the two men had disappeared. Her legs shaking, her pulse pounding, she plunged into the darkness.
She was blind for a moment, but when she heard the distant echo of footsteps, she pressed on sightlessly, using the tunnel wall as a guide.
She was breathless by the time she came to the tunnel’s end, her chest aching with fear. She could detect a faint hint of light, but she had to round a sharp corner and move past a crevice in the rock wall before stumbling out onto the shingle beach.
The dark night was thick with a brewing storm, the ghostly clouds above silvered by a hint of moonlight and swept along by a chill salt breeze. Frantic, Brynn glanced down the shoreline each way, seeing nothing but outcroppings of rock, hearing nothing over the sound of the waves and her own ragged breaths.
Struggling to drag air into her lungs, she looked back over her shoulder, her gaze climbing upward along the cliff face. Her heart jolted when she saw two black shapes overhead; the Frenchman was racing up the cliff walk, Lucian hard on his heels. She could almost hear the harsh sound of their panting.
A moment later, Lucian caught his prey. With a staggering lunge, he tumbled Jack to the rough path.
Both men were on their feet in an instant. Rather than continuing to flee, though. Jack suddenly spun and swung his deadly blade. Lucian stumbled backward and slipped, nearly losing his footing on the narrow track. Brynn barely stifled a scream as he pressed against the cliff wall to regain his balance.
Her heart in her throat, she clutched the pistol in her shaking grasp, trying to aim at the Frenchman. Did she dare shoot? They were so close to each other…
She had no choice, for Jack attacked again, his knife held high as he charged Lucian. Praying, Brynn squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot exploded in her ears. An instant later she heard a cry from one of the men. Then Jack crashed into Lucian, who couldn’t brace for the impact.
For one endless moment, the two combatants stood locked together on the brink of the precipice. Then, with agonizing slowness, they hurtled over the ledge.
Her heart no longer beating, Brynn watched in helpless terror as they tumbled together in a death grip onto the rocky shore below.
Chapter Twenty-two
The nightmare was real, Lucian thought, dazed. Brynn stood over him in the darkness, her fiery hair spilling around her shoulders, her hands slick with his blood…
Was he dying? The dull ache in his head-in his entire body-made him think so.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them again, Brynn was still there, kneeling beside him, weeping, gently cradling his face with searching fingers. She seemed distraught as she pleaded hoarsely with him, “Lucian, please… please… you can’t die… Dear God, please…”
Her lips moved over his face in frantic despair, as if she truly cared whether he lived or died. As if she truly loved him…
His heart wrenched with hope. Wincing, Lucian stiffly turned his head. The Frenchman lay on his back, eyes wide, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.
Realization struck Lucian, slicing through his churning thoughts. His nightmare had not come true. He wasn’t dying. He had lived when his enemy had not.
At his brief movement, he heard Brynn inhale sharply, her sobs arrested as she stared down at him. In the dimness, he could see her eyes alight with stark fear, with hope, could see the glitter of tears streaking her cheeks.
“Lucian?” she uttered, her voice raw and trembling.
He raised his hand to brush a tendril of wildly cascading hair from her face. She had lost her seaman’s cap, and her tresses shimmered like dark flame in the faint moonlight.
“I’m alive…” he whispered.
She gave another sob, a strangled sound of pure joy, while her fingers clutched reflexively at his shirt. “I d-didn’t shoot you? ”
“No, your shot hit Jack…” Reacting with primal instinct, Lucian pulled her into his arms, capturing her mouth in a hard caress, needing to feel her warm body pressed against him, needing to share the exhilaration of being alive.