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He was rewarded with a familiar giggle over the maddening chant. “Of course you do, old man. I wouldn’t expect anything less. ”
“I have people coming, you know. You can’t really expect to get away with this. Let her go. If you left now you could get to the continent and no one would come after you. ”
“Why should I do that, when I’m about to have everything I want?” his old friend said smoothly. “You won’t turn me in. Too many reputations are a stake. None of these impossibly highborn people want to admit that they were part of anything so shameful, but if you’re the one to betray them then I’m sure they will all testify that your brother killed this young girl. As for your so-called reinforcements, you don’t have any. Most of the people you call friends are already here. Accept it, Rohan. I’ve won. And I’m only beginning. ”
He raised the knife high over his head, and his cowl fell back just far enough for Benedick to see Harry Merton’s smiling face.
“No!” Benedick shouted, leaping forward and vaulting the altar, but not all the monks were as mindless as they appeared to be. Harry sidestepped him adroitly as two cowled figures came up behind Benedick, pinning his arms behind him. He didn’t bother to struggle—he kicked at the man on his left, hard behind the knee, and the man went down in a yelp of pain, leaving only the second man to face Benedick’s fury. He smashed a fist beneath the enveloping hood, directly into the man’s face, and he felt the crunch and splinter of bone, the spurt of hot blood, the skin split on his own hand as the second man let out a howl, pushing back the hood. It was Pennington, shrieking in fury as he fell back, and then it was only Harry Merton, watching him from a short distance away, calm, a cheerful light in his eyes, the ornamental knife in his hand.
He was closer to the body than Benedick was, and he doubted he could move quickly enough to stop him. “Come on, Rohan, old friend,” Harry crooned. “You’ve taken out my two best men. Surely you aren’t going to give up now. Or do you realize I’ll have this child gutted before you even move, and that will signal a bacchanalia that not even you can stop. You’ll be pulled down beneath my followers, washed in her blood, and I can promise you, someone will slip a knife between your ribs before you have any idea what’s happened. ”
“I’ll take you with me, you bastard,” he said, leaping for him, ready to rip his throat out. He heard her scream from a distance—Melisande—but he didn’t stop, simply kept moving when the world exploded.
36
Melisande screamed, unable to keep still any longer. It sounded like the wrath of God or the end of the world, and she buried her head as the ceiling disintegrated, dirt and stones and rubble pouring down around them. Something hit her hard between the shoulder blades, knocking the breath from her, and she coughed, struggling, trying to get to her feet once more, trying to reach Benedick.
Slowly the tumbling rocks and sliding dirt halted. And so, thank God, did the ghastly chanting, though the garbed monks didn’t move, still kneeling around the tableau. She finall
y lifted her head, her eyes searching for Benedick, but there was no sign of him, just a huge pile of rocks and dirt, and she felt hysteria rise in her throat. If he was dead…if he was hurt…
And then a movement caught her eye, and she turned her head to see him at the altar, covered in dust as he rose to his full height, brushing the debris from Betsey’s body. He’d covered her, Melisande realized in shock. In the last minute he’d leaped forward to try to save the innocent girl he insisted didn’t matter, and it made her want to cry.
She looked around for Harry Merton, but there was no sign of him. And then she saw the legs sticking out from beneath the pile of rubble, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.
She started toward the altar and began to unfasten the leather straps, then stopped, looking overhead to the night sky above. A very pregnant young woman was looking down at them. “Is everyone all right down there?”
Benedick looked at Melisande for a long, silent moment, and then he moved away from the altar, peering upward. “That was a bit more effective than I expected, sister mine,” he drawled, sounding only slightly rattled. “Deus ex machina, indeed. ”
“We didn’t know this was directly over you, Neddie,” the woman said in an apologetic tone. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Only the right people. Harry Merton is dead. ”
Miranda let out a shriek. “God, no!”
“Thank God, yes. He’s the Grand Master. ” He moved to the sloping side, refusing to look at Melisande. “Find Lucien. I want to get the women out of here, and the cave leading to the stairs has collapsed in the explosion. ”
His sister disappeared, and Benedick came over to the altar, moving Melisande aside with gentle hands, before he finished unfastening Betsey’s bonds. Ignoring Melisande, he scooped Betsey up in his arms and carried her to the side of the cave-in. Someone had found an old ladder, and it was lowered down. Benedick climbed the first few rungs with Betsey over his shoulder, passed her on to waiting hands and then turned back to Melisande, finally looking at her.
Author: Anne Stuart
She raised her chin. “What are you going to do about the Heavenly Host?”
“Leave it to us. You don’t have to be responsible for everything. ” He held out an impatient hand to her. “Are you coming?”
“No, I thought I’d stay here with the degenerates and the dead body,” she said, angry once more. She slid off the altar, ignoring his hand and headed for the ladder. She was halfway up, with him directly behind her, when she remembered she was wearing nothing beneath the enveloping monk’s robe, and he could see directly beneath it.
Tant pis, she thought. It would give him something to remember her by.
The hands that caught her were strong and rough, and in the bright full moonlight she found herself surrounded by what appeared to be a gang of criminals. The pregnant woman had her arms around Betsey, wrapped in a blanket, and she was talking to her gently, soothing her, and for a moment Melisande stood still, feeling useless.
“Lady Carstairs?” A rich voice came from beside her, and she turned to look into the scarred face of an otherwise handsome man. He clutched a cane, and she knew who he was.
“Mr. Brandon Rohan?” she inquired.
He shuddered. “God, no. Though I suppose we might as well be bookends, given our similar injuries. No, I can thankfully say that I have none of the wild Rohan blood in me. Only in my children. I’m Rochdale, and that very pregnant woman is my wife, the only female Rohan. Allow me to escort you to our carriage…. ”
“Take your hands off her, Scorpion!” Benedick’s voice was deadly as he emerged from the collapsed tunnel.
