“You wanted to see Lucifer,” Jamie hissed. “And now you shall—for all eternity.”
When Jamie attacked, fighting all three in a whirl of shining blades, Linnet could not take her eyes off him. Despite the danger, she was captivated by the sheer beauty of Jamie in motion. He was a warrior’s warrior, a fighter of grace and strength, with honed skills and controlled fury.
In contrast, the sorcerers were hideous, half-naked heathens in dark hides.
Jamie’s sword was a blur, first high and then low, left then right, in front and behind. Not one of them could get past him. Then he lunged, and Pomeroy went down with a scream that made the hairs on Linnet’s arms and neck stand up. Pomeroy dragged himself a few feet, leaving a dark swath of blood behind him, before collapsing for good.
Linnet stared at his still form, bleeding out on the dirt floor, not quite believing it. After all these years, she was safe from him forever.
A table crashed, drawing her attention back to the fight. Jamie and the two remaining swordsmen went up and down the room, swords clanking. When they came near, Martin raised his sword, ready to enter the fray.
“Stay with her!” Jamie roared. “If one gets past me, you must be ready.”
A moment later, Jamie got caught between the two. He ducked in time to avoid a fatal blow, but blood dripped from a long gash down his side. Linnet felt as if a hand squeezed her heart as he stumbled and shook his head to clear it.
Enough of this. “Martin, which one shall we take?”
“The one on the left.”
“Aaargh!” She and Martin shouted as they ran forward together.
The man turned at the sound, and Jamie’s sword hit his throat with such force it nearly severed his head from his body. As the last man charged from behind, Jamie spun around and impaled his dagger in the man’s chest.
Linnet stood in the middle of the room, clenching her dagger in her fist. But it was over. Bodies littered the floor around her.
The dagger fell from her hand, and she dropped to her knees. She covered her face with shaking hands. God be praised, they were all three alive.
Jamie rested his hand lightly on her head. “ ’Tis all right now, love,” he said in a soft voice. “Come, let us leave this evil place.”
He sheathed his sword and lifted her to her feet.
“No matter how long it takes, I shall track down every one who escaped and punish them for what they did to you,” he said, holding her face in his hands. “I shall gouge out the eyes of every man who saw you before I cut his throat.”
“Please, Jamie,” she whispered, “I just want to leave it behind me.”
“I swear,” Martin said, and Linnet turned to see that he was stepping back up with his hands up. “I did not look at her when she was naked. Not once.”
Jamie did not ask how the lad knew she was naked, but he gave Martin a look that would skin a cat.
“Let him be,” Linnet said, putting her hand on Jamie’s arm. “Martin did well here today.”
“You and I will talk later about how you failed to follow my instructions,” Jamie said to Martin, then pointed toward the passageway that led into Westminster. “Master Woodley is waiting at the top of the stairs. Run ahead and tell him all is well before his heart fails him.”
Jamie enveloped her in his arms and buried his face in her hair. “God forgive me, I was almost too late to save you both.”
“I knew you would come.”
When she slipped her arms around his waist, her fingers touched the wet stickiness of blood, and the breath went out of her.
She leaned back to look at him. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Nothing worse than a usual day’s fighting,” he said, giving her a cocky grin.
Reassured, she started to smile back—and then screamed. Pomeroy had risen from the dead and was charging toward them with his blade leveled at Jamie’s back.
Jamie grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her hard to the floor. She fell flat on her stomach. The black-handled knife was before her face, where it had fallen when the table crashed. She moved on instinct. The knife was in her hand as she surged to her knees with her arm outstretched.
She fell backward from the impact as her blade met Pomeroy’s belly. Pomeroy swayed above her, his face ashen and blood seeping from between his lips.
