The man froze in his stealthy creep.
“Get away, you fool!” Armand bellowed, waving his hands. “Away, away, away!” His face was as crimson as Nick’s now.
Simone heard her own sobs as if they came from outside her body, and her vision was blurred by tears. She could do naught to clear them from her eyes, save for toss her head and blink.
“Cut him down,” Genevieve said again. She paid no heed to her blood, dripping onto the floor. “Cut him down, and I will accompany you back to France without a struggle. I swear it.”
Armand’s one usable eye narrowed. “How am I to trust you, tricky woman, when you are just as likely to sneak upon me and bash in my skull again with any common object?”
Genevieve’s gaze did not waver. “I swear it on my sons’ lives.”
Armand backed down into a rickety chair and glanced anxiously toward Simone.
“The girl comes as well,” he said. “I would have my own leverage lest you renege on our agreement.”
Above Simone, Nick’s struggles were weakening.
Genevieve looked to her, the question in her eyes.
“You will let him live?” Simone gasped, her palms burning like liquid hell against the rope that held Nick aloft. All she could think of was Nicholas, warm and safe.
“Of course,” Armand insisted. He smiled a crazed grin and beckoned to Genevieve with his claw. “Let him down,” he called to Eldon. When the man hesitated, Armand shouted, “Let him down before my wife bleeds to death!”
Eldon approached, and once he took hold of the rope, Simone could finally unclench her raw fingers from their death hold. She fell onto her knees, shaking.
“Drop the blade and come to me, Genevieve. Now.”
Across the hall, the dagger clattered to the floor and the lady crawled to Armand, still seated in the chair as if it were a throne. Simone watched as Armand leaned forward and drew Genevieve’s limp upper body onto his lap. He took the side of her face in one large palm and kissed her cheek, cradling her head before gently moving her aside as he rose from the chair.
Eldon lowered Nicholas down, pulling him away from the pit and letting him collapse on the floor. Simone scrambled to him, her fingers tugging the rope from around his neck and pulling it over his head, her fingernails splitting and bleeding.
“Nicholas?” she gasped, turning his face toward her. His eyelids fluttered open, showing bloodshot whites. “Nick?Aaghh!” She screamed as Armand seized her from behind by her hair and dragged her to join Genevieve. He flung her against the other woman. Then he slapped both women, in turn.
“Whores. Christing, bloody, bleeding whores!” he muttered. “After all I’ve done for you both, this is how you repay me.”
Simone looked up to see black rage coursing just beneath Armand’s skin, rippling his flesh as surely as if a demon lurked inside him, watching the proceedings with glee.
Spittle flew from Armand’s mouth, his words running together like a Latin mass. “I gave you my name, you ungrateful-bastard-common-born-bitch! Filthy gutter scum, spawned of Christing slime! Look how well you’ve wed because of me!” He flung his withered arm to indicate Nicholas, still and quiet on the floor. “A bloody, Christing, fuckingbaron!
“And you!” Armand spun to Genevieve, still clinging to the seat of the chair, too weak to move away to safety. Her arm was smeared shades of red and brown with her own blood. “I risked my very life to please you, only to return to find you’d born another’s son! I wed you anyway, though, didn’t I? Tried to better your station, make your mistakes”—he snapped his fingers—“disappear! And you tried tokill mefor it!” Armand was sobbing now, as he limped toward Genevieve. “I should killyou!I want to…I want to crush your throat in my hand until you are dead! After all these years of searching, searching, searching…” His head jerked on his neck, and he screeched in demonic rage. “I sacrificed my only son! My beloved boy! My Didier! For you—all for you!”
“Not your son, du Roche,” a male voice rang out.
Chapter 29
Simone’s head swung to the far side of the hall where Jehan Renault stood, a slender sword in hand.
“Renault?” Armand whispered.
“Not your son,” Jehan repeated. “Myson. Mine and Portia’s. You killed them both.”
Armand shook his head furiously, his twisted features a blur. “N-non! Non!” He stabbed his claw toward Simone. “That one! That one is yours! Didier wasmine!I laid with your whore!”
“You laid with Portia when she quickened with my child,” Jehan said. “You were drunk, she seduced you, thinking you were too ignorant to know. And she was correct.”
“Non!” Armand gripped his head with both hands. Snot ran into his gaping mouth as he moaned.
“Oui.” Jehan stepped closer.
