She just shrugged, not willing to divulge anything.
He advanced again. She backed up farther, but her retreat was halted by the door she’d entered through.
Leighhall grinned. “It’s a pity I won’t be able to enjoy you first, but you are far too dangerous to keep.”
He brought the sword up with two hands and swung down.
She braced for the impact, but it didn’t come as Anthony tackled Leighhall from the side, dislodging the sword from his grasp.
Relief flooded her and tears of thankfulness itched the back of her eyes, but as the two men rolled back the other way, the flash of the sword breaker caught the light.
Anthony held no weapon and fought to keep the sword breaker from his body.
Ignoring the prone butler, she searched the wall for something she could use to help. She didn’t dare let loose a dagger when they changed positions so quickly. She also wasn’t sure she could stomach more blood.
Her gaze lit on a shield. Raising herself on her toes, she struggled to get the heavy shield loose. Finally, she jumped and hit it, knocking it from the wall. The noise was ignored by the two men bent on killing each other.
Grabbing up the heavy shield, she waited. As the two rolled closer, she could see the sweat on Anthony’s forehead. Watching the sword breaker come so close to his throat had her hands sweating, making it that much harder to hold the shield.
She couldn’t let her emotions cloud her actions. That was weakness. Fortifying her resolve, she waited for the right moment.
And then it came.
Leighhall was atop Anthony, using his leverage to push the sword breaker down.
She lifted the shield and slammed it against the man’s head.
Instantly, Leighhall went limp and Anthony rolled him off. Jumping to his feet, he grasped her to him. “Lissa. My Lissa.”
She melted into his embrace, relief causing her to shiver. Never had she been so scared of losing someone, not even in France. She didn’t understand it, but she wanted to cry when she should be laughing.
Anthony moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back, inspecting her. “You are not hurt?”
She shook her head, even as she noticed a nasty red bump starting to swell on the right side of his forehead.
“Lissa.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. “We must leave. Now.”
She looked at the two prone bodies. “Are they dead?”
He grimaced. “No. And we will not kill them.”
She kept silent about Leighhall’s stab wound. He might well die. “Let us go.”
He took her hand and headed for the door to the gun case.
“Wait.” Breaking his hold, she ran to the drawer on the chair and grabbed a bunch of letters, stuffing them into her hidden pockets. She looked longingly at the drawer of coins and jewels, but time was of the essence.
Running back to Anthony, she took his hand and let him lead her out. Even as the gun case moved back into place with a click, they were silently traversing the ballroom, the light outside proving the sun had risen but was firmly packed behind thick clouds.
Anthony opened one of the French doors to the terrace, and they were hit with cold winter wind.
Without a word, she followed him out and across the gardens to the stable. When they arrived, they found his coachman hadstarted to prepare the coach, but the horses had yet to be harnessed.
Anthony handed her into the coach, which at least kept the wind away. Anxious about the delay, she watched as Anthony helped the coachman connect the horses. Though Anthony had had her pack before going to sleep, they hadn’t planned to leave until after breakfast, so their clothes remained in their room. Maybe Leighhall would burn their belongings out of spite.
Finally, Anthony opened the door and joined her, the cold air filling the space. He carried in a wool blanket. “This should help us stay warm until we reach the first inn.” He sat next to her, pulling her close to his side, then covered them in the blanket as the coach headed down the drive.
Despite the warmth of both Anthony and the blanket, she shivered, unable to keep from watching out the window, expecting a gunshot at any moment.
