Sean was genuinely touched. His life was full of subversion and deadly threats and he truly couldn’t remember, in recent times, when he’d had a moment that had been even remotely pleasant. There was no comfort in his life. As wrong as it was, he was finding comfort with an enemy.
“I thank you,” he said quietly.
The moment was sweetly awkward. At a loss for words, Sheridan resumed their walk yet again. She could have walked all night on his arm, letting the conversation flow as easily as honeyed wine.
A cold breeze suddenly blew off the river and enveloped them both, swirling with frenzied intensity. When it died as abruptly as it came, Sheridan shivered. Sean noticed immediately.
“My lady is chilled,” he said with concern. “I shall return you to the hall.”
“I am not cold, truly,” she insisted. “I would rather walk.”
He looked at her. “Your lips are gray.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “We’re standing in moonlight. Everything is gray.”
The normally unreadable expression turned suspicious. “Even as you speak, your lips quiver. That is not my imagination.”
He was right, but she made a face that suggested it was a reluctant surrender. Feeling somewhat pleased with his victory, he turned her around in time to see a figure emerging from the shadows of the White Tower. He caught the glint of a blade and knew before the shape came fully into view that it was an assassin sent to kill him. In his world, it could be nothing else.
Normally, he took a sadistic pride in proving his worth as an adversary. He was the living example that no man could kill the Lord of the Shadows. But this time it was different; he had Sheridan on his arm and his heart lurched with fear for her safety. Sheridan saw the approaching blade and let out a strangled cry a half-second before Sean shoved her out of harm’s way.
The assassin wielded the light-weight blade with practiced agility. It sang an eerie cry of death as it sailed through the air, three successive thrusts at Sean’s head. Weaponless, de Lara stood his ground as the weapon hurled in his direction. With a defensive move that had him spinning rapidly to his left flank, he ended up behind his attacker. Reaching down, he grabbed the hilt of the sword and used the palm of his right hand to strike a brutal blow to the back of the man’s neck. The force of the jolt was hard enough to snap his spine. The man fell to the ground, dead, with his blade in Sean’s left hand.
Sean stood there, gazing impassively at the corpse. This was not an unusual occurrence and he had faced better. Sheridan, however, stood several feet away, her mouth gaping in shock. It took Sean a moment to remember that she was still there.
“Are you all right?” he tossed the blade down and went to her. “I did not mean to be rough with you, but I did not want you in the line of fire. I pray that I did not hurt you.”
She just stood there. “My lady?” he prodded gently.
She blinked. Then her knees buckled and she threw out her hands as if to grab hold of something to steady herself. Sean was the nearest object and he took hold of her so that she wouldn’t fall.
“I think I need to sit down,” she whispered tightly.
He looked around but there were no benches within walking distance. He put one arm around her slender torso and took firm grasp of her right arm, holding her fast.
“You’ll be all right, my lady,” he said with quiet assurance. “I’ll not let you fall.”
They took a few slow steps in silence. He could feel Sheridan quivering like a leaf and guilt swept him. He held her tighter.
“That man,” she gasped. “He was… he tried tokillyou.”
“Aye,” he said steadily.
“But why?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “If you know anything of my reputation as you have said, then you can answer that question.”
She took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure. “I know, but that was so… so bold, so brutal.”
“I know.”
She looked up at him; he had not even worked up a good sweat. He looked completely unruffled, the same as he had appeared the moment they realized the man was upon them. It infuriated her. “And you are so calm?”
He shrugged. “Panic is deadly. One must think clearly in order to survive.”
She stared at him a moment longer before shaking her head. “Then surely I would have died because I cannot imagine being calm in the face of a deadly attack.”
“It is an acquired calm, I assure you.”
