He did not look back.
He did not think.
There was only the road.
Only Blackmere.
Only Eleanor.
And the terrible certainty that if he did not reach her in time, revenge would become the least of his losses.
CHAPTER 30
Arabella woke to a sound she had not heard since childhood.
Not a gasp. Not a startled breath.
A scream.
Her eyes snapped open into darkness lit only by the faint glow of coals in the hearth. For a moment her mind did not understand where she was, only that Eleanor was beside her, and Eleanor did not scream.
Eleanor was upright in the bed, half tangled in the sheets, her hair loose around her shoulders. She was not looking at Arabella. She was looking toward the door.
A figure stood there.
The shape was wrong for a servant. Too tall, too broad. A hood or mask hid the face, turning the person into something faceless and intent.
Arabella’s heart slammed into her ribs.
“Eleanor?” she whispered.
Eleanor did not answer. She shoved the coverlet aside, already moving.
The figure surged forward.
Arabella’s body reacted before her mind caught up. She scrambled off the bed, feet hitting the floor, cold biting through her stockings.
“Who are you?” Eleanor demanded, her voice sharp with fear and fury.
The intruder did not speak.
He closed the distance fast, arms outstretched.
Eleanor grabbed the heavy candlestick from the bedside table and swung.
Metal struck something solid with a dull crack. The man grunted, staggered half a step, then kept coming.
Arabella’s breath caught. He should have fallen. He did not.
“Eleanor, move!” Arabella cried.
Eleanor did not move back. She moved forward, as if defiance were her only weapon.
Arabella’s eyes darted frantically around the room. There was no bell pull within reach. No poker near the hearth. Only a chair by the window and a small table with a half-burned candle.
She seized the chair.
It was heavier than she expected. Her arms trembled as she lifted it.
