“You!” Leighhall strode forward, and the rage in his eyes had her taking a step back.
His expression changed from anger to calculation in an instant. “You doxy. How did you get in here?”
Knowing his opinion of women, she cowered, hoping to lessen his anger. “I was just getting a closer look at the china. I wanted to see who made it. When I set it back, I must have hit something, because the cupboard opened.” She took another step back and hunched her shoulders, making herself as small a threat as possible.
Leighhall stopped in front of her, his gaze moving over her as if he were deciding what sexual position he’d like first, or what part of her body he would torture. She couldn’t be sure which.
Grasping the dagger in her hand harder, she lowered her gaze in submission, but as she did, she caught a glimpse of Anthony crawling behind the butler.
Leighhall’s finger raised her chin, but she kept her eyes lowered so he wouldn’t see the disgust at his touch. “The door to this room is locked, my dear liar.”
She snapped her gaze up to his and widened her eyes, shaking her head and dislodging his hand. “No, I swear. It was unlocked. I locked it once I came in.” She looked away toward the butler as Anthony rose behind the man. Quickly she brought her gaze to Leighhall’s again. “When I saw the weapons, I grew fearful. I don’t like guns.” She shivered.
A loudthwap, followed by a thump, had Leighhall turning to find the butler on the floor and Anthony standing there with a battle axe in his hand.
For a moment, he looked like a vengeful Viking to her, which she fully appreciated. But then she moved to get away from Leighhall.
How the man could turn and react to Anthony’s presence yet still reach out and grab her arm, she wasn’t sure, but his deadlyquickness told her much about her opponent. “Now it makes sense.”
“Let her go.”
Leighhall laughed. “No. I want to know who sent you.”
Anthony’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t know what the man spoke of. “No one sent me. I came here because I admired you, but in the span of two days I have discovered you are hardly one to be admired.”
“You can drop the lie. You’re here to stop me, but you can’t. Everything is in motion, and you, and she”—Leighhall tugged Lissa toward him, holding her against his chest—“will quietly disappear.” The man chuckled. “Of course, I will have some fun with her first, but alas, you will not be alive long enough to watch.”
She’d thought Anthony looked like a Viking before, but now his gaze grew intense, almost glowing like an avenging angel’s. She felt Leighhall shift his weight as if expecting Anthony to attack. The slight movement gave her the space to pull her dagger from her pocket. Thrusting backward, she felt it sink deep between the man’s ribs as his hold loosened.
Pulling out of his grasp, she spun, making the mistake of looking at the damage she’d done. Blood seeped through Leighhall’s white shirt, and she froze.
“You bitch!”
She jumped at the rage in his voice, which allowed her to step further away, though she couldn’t take her eyes from the blood. She heard Anthony’s footsteps advancing across the floor.
Spinning around, Leighhall unhooked a crossbow from the wall before turning and aiming it at Anthony.
Her heart shuddered, breaking her trance. She reached for a weapon on the wall next to her, lifting a chakram from its hook, and sent it hurtling through the air just before Leighhall releasedthe arrow. Her weapon hit his arm as he loosed the arrow, which buried itself into the wall far from Anthony.
She had but a moment of relief. “Anthony, behind you!”
The butler swung a claymore at Anthony, who turned in time to block it with his battle axe.
Leighhall threw down the crossbow and turned on her. Without a word, he pulled a broadsword from its mount, the metal screeching as it slid from its hooks.
She ran to the other side of the room and lifted from the wall a curved saber, a weapon she knew well.
Leighhall halted, no doubt surprised by her action. Then an evil grin twisted his lips and he pulled the sword breaker from the wall, advancing on her while the sound of Anthony’s weapon clashing with the butler’s filled the room.
She swallowed hard. The chance the saber would break was slim, but if her blade was caught, he’d have her. Keeping her gaze away from the blood soaking the man’s shirt, she focused on his sword.
His first hit ran up her arms with its strength. She may know how to wield a saber, but having a trained man attacking her with a broadsword would wear her strength down in minutes. The sounds of weapons clashing told her Anthony was occupied, so she’d have to fend for herself, just as she had in France before meeting him. She moved deeper into the shadows, the two lanterns Leighhall and his butler had set on tables near the door giving limited light.
“You can’t hide from me, trollop.”
She cringed at his words, not because they were crude but because of the sheer hate within them. Saving her strength, she didn’t respond, keeping her gaze fixed on his sword. As it descended toward her, she brought her own blade up, deflecting his and using the momentum to spin about and into an even darker area. Her maroon dress would make her a difficult target.
Leighhall paused, clearly perplexed. “Who are you? Are you a spy for the queen?”
