“You are going to apologize for ever laying an unkind hand on her.”
“Or what-”
Florian’s blade flashed, opening a cut on the back of his hand before returning to its post.
“You will apologize for ever putting your disgusting fingers on her without her permission.”
Victor’s eyes were nothing but icy coals of hatred as he bared his teeth. “I’m sorry,” he growled.
“Now, for that venomous mouth. Apologize for every wicked, horrible lie you ever told her.”
“Lies?” He coughed a manic laugh. “She’s nothing but a whoring gutter-”
Florian’s rapier slashed out again, cutting his cheek.
Victor’s hand flew to his face, alight with naked shock. “Name your price and I will pay it. She’s not worth this!”
The other cheek opened to a cut of ruby red.
“You can take your land, your title, your gold, and shove it up your ass for all it means to me. My price is your apology, for every disgusting word.”
“I’m sorry,” he hissed.
“That’s better, isn’t it, you brutish slug? Now stand up.” Florian tapped the flat of his blade beneath his jaw in emphasis.
Victor stood slowly, eyeing Florian’s sword as it followed him.
“Yvette, are you still with us, love?” Florian asked, extending his voice in case she’d gone to the hall. Dreadful fear twisted within him that she had taken up and run the moment he’d lost sight of her, though he couldn’t possibly have blamed her.
Instead, she appeared just behind him, so close he was honestly surprised. She truly had mastered the art of silence.
“Would you take that bit of cord from my belt and tie his hands?” Florian said, not taking his eyes off the treacherous snake for a second. “Lord Redfield here has a few more amends to make.”
Keira
When the doors of the chapel burst open for a second time, Victor fell inside. His bound hands barely caught his weight before he met the floor. Gilbert had just been speaking with his captain of the guard about setting a search for the bastard. Priscilla, who had been sitting in one of the pews, sniffing prettily into a handkerchief, cried out as her brother collapsed.
Keira had been enduring the passing discomfort as the village healer mended her numerous injuries. Caspian hovered nervously over them. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her since he’d accepted the truth. Even now, his hand was resting on her back. Keira wondered if he noticed he was doing it, not that she would have it any other way. She needed the comfort as much as he did.
Of course, the commotion stole her attention, and she looked just in time to see Florian following him inside with Yvette in tow. Her eyes narrowed. Clearly, Yvette had wiggled her way out of Victor’s fate as he struggled spitefully to bring himself to his feet, preserving the tattered shreds of his dignity. Maybe she had seen the tides turning and stabbed Victor in the back, playing on Florian’s obvious attraction to switch sides. Again.
“Look what I found hidden away in the keep,” Florian announced. “Missing his own sister’s wedding.” He clicked histongue disapprovingly. “I thought I might do the neighborly thing and bring him over right away.”
The few guests who had stayed, either because they were trying to figure out what would be happening now that the wedding would not be moving forward or were simply caught up in the excitement, started buzzing again as the second act of this drama began to unfold.
“Lord Redfield,” Prince Gilbert said, straightening. “Heavy allocations have been placed on your name. Accounts of kidnapping, malicious enchantment, attempted assassination, and treason.”
“Of courseyouwould believe your lapdog and his bitch over the heir of one of the oldest families in your father’s court.” Victor’s hiss was acidic.
The prince braced himself against his words as Caspian laced his arm around her waist. Keira allowed it, sinking back into him. Not that she felt she required his protection, but that she knew he needed reassurance that she was safe.
“Again with that mouth,” Florian issued a kick just powerful enough to send Victor to the floor, catching himself this time on his bound hands. Any handsomeness about his features was gone. His blonde hair was tangled and hung in his face. His skin was red with anger, an ugly sneer accentuated the two cuts marking on his cheeks.
“Ssstop!” Priscilla cried, standing.
“Shut up, you stuttering wench!” Victor snapped.
She let out a squeak and sat back down, dissolving into tears once more. It was almost enough to elicit a stir of pity in her heart. Almost.
