Sabrina closed her eyes. Her worst fear had come true. And yet…Leander was here. Which meant she was not lost—not yet. But if he stayed, they both would be. He had to leave her to her fate. He could save himself. She was lost, but he still had a chance. Why, oh why, had he come for her?
“You’re despicable,” Sabrina spat out. “You murdered innocents for no reason.”
“I had plenty of reasons,” Bastien told her. “As I have already explained. That bastard murdered my beloved wife.”
“Your wife?” Leander raised a brow. “and pray tell who was your wife?” He tilted his head to the side. “I do not believe you and I are acquainted.”
“You are quite right, Your Grace,” Bastien began. “You and I have never officially met. I am more familiar with your acquaintance Viscount Slothington.” He grinned. “I have tangled a bit with him in the past.” His grin turned evil. “I will deal with him another time.” He motioned toward Sabrina. “But that is now why you are here. This lovely lady is what lured you from your home, and you are the reason she will die.”
“If we have never met, why do you hate me so much?” Leander asked.
“Because of Amélie,” he said. “You killed her. You took my wife away from me.”
Leander narrowed his gaze. “Amélie?” He frowned. “This is about the woman who attempted to seduce me and then when that didn’t work tried to kill me. You blame me for her death? That was not murder, you sot. I was defending myself.”
Bastien’s face contorted—rage, grief, madness twisting together until he scarcely resembled a man at all.
“You lie!” he roared. “You seduced her with your charm and then cast her aside like she meant nothing. You drove her to desperation—drove her into my arms—and then you killed her!”
Leander’s expression hardened to marble. “I never seduced her. She broke into my chambers with a dagger and a vial of poison. I subdued her to keep her from murdering me—and she tripped over her own gown in her own haste.” His voice turned cold as steel. “Her death was her own doing.”
“You call that justice?” Bastien’s shout echoed off the stone walls. “You ruined everything!” His hand tightened on Sabrina’s arm until pain shot up to her shoulder. “And now I shall do the same to you.”
Sabrina gasped as he pulled her out of the chair her hands still bound by the course rope. She would not be able to help anyone. She did not know what to do. Leander took a step forward.
“No,” she cried, her heart cracking at the recklessness in his eyes. “Leander, stop! He’ll kill us both!”
Bastien laughed again, wild and triumphant. “Indeed, I shall. You treasure her, do you not?” His vile grin widened. “I saw it in your eyes the moment you arrived. Such desperation… such devotion.” He jerked her closer, a knife held against her chest. “Watch her as the life dies from her eyes. Let her be torn from your arms as Amélie was torn from mine.”
Sabrina’s breath shattered in her chest. Leander loved her—Bastien had seen it. She had feared it and yet a spark of hope flared in her even as terror thundered in her veins. Leander’s voice dropped—quiet, lethal. “If you harm one hair on her head, I will drag you to hell myself.”
“Oh?” Bastien sneered. “Shall we test that vow?”
He shoved Sabrina forward.
Sabrina screamed?—
But Leander lunged, faster than thought, hurling himself between her and Bastien. His hand closed around her waist and pushed her behind him. Bastien swore viciously and reached for his pistol.
“Leander!” Sabrina cried.
The world narrowed to two movements—the flash of steel, the crack of the pistol, and then?—
A body crumpling.
For one agonizing heartbeat, Sabrina believed it was Leander who had been shot. A raw, breaking sound tore from her throat. But then he stood before her and his chest rose as he draw in a breath. On the floor nearby lay Bastien, blood darkening his coat, eyes wide with shock. Silence swallowed the world.
Sabrina’s knees buckled, and Leander caught her before she fell. She trembled so violently she could scarcely breathe. “You are safe,” he murmured against her hair, voice ragged with emotion he did not attempt to hide. “I have you, Sabrina. I swear it—you are safe.”
She clutched the front of his coat, tears spilling freely as the truth crashed over her—she very nearly died, and Leander had been willing to risk his own life to save hers. “Why did you come?” she whispered, shaking. “Why would you risk everything?”
He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “Because losing you,” he said, voice low and fierce, “would have destroyed me far more surely than any bullet Bastien could fire.”
Her breath caught. Warmth—terrifying, wondrous—flooded her chest.
Before she could speak, he drew her into his arms again, holding her as though he feared she might disappear. And Sabrina, for the first time since Bastien took her, allowed herself to believe—she was safe… “I love you,” she said. “I have always loved you.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “I love you, Sabella. I cannot imagine a life where you are not in it. I never should have stayed away for so long. Can you ever forgive me?”
