Page 77 of An Extraordinary Lord

She nodded. If the intruder was only a burglar who wanted to rob the house, he most likely wouldn’t harm them as long as he thought they were asleep. But the ball of fear in her belly held little hope for that.

Someone had come after her tonight to kill her. Now they were coming after Merritt.

He turned onto his back at the edge of the mattress. With his left arm lying across his abdomen, he reached beneath the bed with his right. Then he lay still.

The footsteps drew closer. Not one set but two. From the hitch in his breath, Merritt realized that, too. But neither of them moved, keeping their eyes closed and pretending to sleep even as the intruders moved steadily toward them.

A stretch of silence came as the men paused on the landing, followed by the opening of the door to the other room. A few seconds passed as they looked inside, then the door closed.

Her heart lurched into her throat. Not burglars.Hunters.

The door to their room opened with a soft click, followed by the same pause as before. But this time, the quiet shuffling of fabric and boots as they entered revealed that the two men had found what they’d been looking for. Merritt, asleep in his bed.

But they hadn’t expected him to have company.

“Look at that,” one whispered to the other.

The second man drawled, “A pretty little present.”

Veronica forced herself to breathe slowly and evenly. She pretended to be asleep, yet every one of her senses came alert, her muscles ready to spring.

“Don’t even have to unwrap it,” he joked.

“Used gift.”

“Still tasty, though. And a fun treat after our work.”

She opened her eyes, unable to keep them closed a heartbeat longer. The two men stood silhouetted by the frame of the open door, one wide and hulking and the other slender but tall. A slant of moonlight revealed the steely flash of knives.

“You take him,” the smaller man ordered and pointed his knife at Merritt. “I’ll take the whore.”

The big man nodded and started toward the bed.

Merritt sprang. He slashed with his knife in his right hand as he spun in a half circle and kicked his leg. His foot plowed into the shorter man’s chest and sent him staggering back. Then he dropped into a crouch and slashed with his knife at the other man. The blade sliced through the man’s trousers and into his calf.

The attacker let out a howl of pain but somehow found the lucidity to strike back and lunged forward on his good leg to thrust the knife at Merritt’s shoulder.

Merritt dodged the blow, dropped his shoulder, and charged forward like a bull. He slammed his shoulder into the man’s midriff and threw him backward halfway across the room. The two men grappled, their knives flashing in the moonlight.

The smaller of the two men recovered and came at Veronica.

She rolled off the bed and darted to the fireplace to grab the iron poker. When she brandished it in front of her, the man laughed, only for a groan of pain to escape when she swung and caught him on the boney edge of his hip. He lunged. She jumped to the side and stabbed the poker forward like a sword. But the dulled tip didn’t puncture the man’s clothes and simply bounced off the hard flesh beneath as if she’d never touched him at all.

Panting hard from exertion and fear, she retreated slowly but kept the poker gripped tightly in her hand. Her heart pounded so hard that each beat jarred against her breastbone and ricocheted painfully. So did the slap of iron in her ungloved palm as she swung the poker again, this time in a wide arc that hit his shoulder with a dull thud.

“You bitch!” he bellowed.

With a fierce cry, she swung again. The iron poker caught him on the side of the head and dropped him to his knees.

He remained on all fours on the floor at her feet, stunned and breathless. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath. When he tilted back his head and looked up at her, his rage-filled expression made her gasp.

Before she could swing a second time, he snarled and flung himself at her. He grabbed her by the legs and tossed her to the floor, then climbed on top of her to pin her down. He clutched her throat.

She kicked and punched, but he was too large and heavy. She couldn’t shove him away! No scream left her lips, only a soft gargling as he squeezed her throat. She couldn’t see around him to find Merritt, had no idea if Merritt was still fighting. Or if he was still alive. All she could hear was the deafening roar of blood in her ears with every pounding heartbeat.

He drew back the other hand that still held his knife and flashed it in front of her face.

He lowered his face close to hers. So close that she saw the jagged scar marking his cheek and smelled the stench of his hot breath. “I’m going to gut you for that.”