But he was not her companion on this night. He was a spy. A lurker in her world. And he was fairly certain she would not appreciate him in such a role.
He was nearly halfway to her before he realized he’d gone too far. As he halted his slow advance to begin a silent retreat, he heard adisturbing sound from the corner of the garden near the house.
She must have heard it too as she tensed and turned her gaze in that direction.
Though everything in him clamored to go to her—protect her—Phin stilled, hoping that the intruder had not noticed his presence in the deeper shadows of the garden. Straining to hear more, he slowly withdrew Claudia from his boot. With the familiar weight and smoothness of the blade’s handle against his palm, he listened and watched.
Eleanor’s gasp cut the night in the same moment the shadows shifted against the house and rushed swiftly forward. As if suddenly released from a taut tether, Phin lunged into a sprint, vaulting over hedges and leaping past flowering bushes. His stare was locked upon the large, agile figure dashing from the night, a wicked curved scimitar held in his hand.
The attacker was quick, but so was Phin.
Eleanor had leapt to her feet, but stood frozen in place, staring at the black-clothed man rushing toward her. She still hadn’t turned to seen Phin running from the darkness behind her, but the intruder must’ve noticed him as it was now clear that the man was heading straight for him.
As he sped past Eleanor at the fountain, Phin instructed, “Go back inside. Lock the door.”
He had only a split-second to note her gasp of shock as she stumbled back a step before he met the intruder with a clash of steel. Phin caught the swing of the man’s scimitar with the edge of his blade, forcing the blow to the side. Continuing his momentum from the evasion, Phin ducked low and lunged alongside the other man to slice across his ribs.
The intruder let out a hiss of pain and spun in a graceful counterattack that slashed across Phin’s forearm, nearly making him drop his weapon. Keeping his gaze locked on the man swathed in black, Phincrept backwards, trying to lure the attacker away from Eleanor.
In his peripheral vision, he could see her still standing stiff and frightened by the fountain, staring at them with wide eyes. He wanted to shout at her again to run to the house, but he didn’t want to turn the attacker’s attention back in her direction.
Another swing of the scimitar had Phin diving to the ground in a tumbling roll that brought him swiftly back to his feet a short distance away. If he could keep the man’s attention long enough to draw him away from Eleanor, perhaps she’d finally make a dash toward safety.
But the man did not follow. Instead, he stilled, then glanced over his shoulder.
That was when Phin heard someone approaching. More than one someone. He hoped it was the men Iago had placed to watch the house rather than assistance for his opponent. Tossing his knife back and forth to reclaim the other man’s focus, Phin taunted him with a challenging grin.
“Giving up already?” he asked, back further into the shadows at the edge of the garden.
Having learned to defend himself in the back alleys and twisting lanes of foreign cities, Phin preferred fighting in the darkness, where he could more easily evade and surprise his opponent. Another slice of the scimitar came close enough to his face that he felt the brush of air on his skin. Phin reacted with a sudden crouch and spin, extending his foot to sweep the other man’s legs out from under him. He landed with a thud as his scimitar went skittering across the stone path.
Hoping to claim the weapon before the intruder could, Phin leapt toward it. But Eleanor got there first. He stared in shock as she stood with her feet braced apart, both hands gripping tight to the blade’s handle, her eyes wide and her breath passing through her lips in rapid pants.
She was supposed to run from the fight. Not take the first opportunity to join in.
Phin was stunned and shaken. She’d never looked so beautiful.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before he couldreact to her astounding bravery, four men rushed into the garden. Phin recognized them immediately as Iago’s and he lowered his knife as they converged upon the attacker who’d just risen to his feet. “Take him to my house. Keep him alive but well-secured,” he ordered in a low whisper. “I need to question him. As soon as you’re able, return here to continue your watch.”
The men nodded understanding as they tied the man’s wrists and gagged him before dragging him from the garden. Oddly, the man didn’t appear to resist in any way.
Once he was certain the threat was fully contained, Phin tucked Claudia back into his boot and turned to Eleanor. She still stood with the curved blade clasped in both hands, angled outward, her gown softly glowing in the moonlight, her eyes intent on him.
Phin smiled. “Well done.”
Her lashes flickered as she met his gaze. But she didn’t lower the weapon even when he spread his open hands and started toward her.
“The danger is over, sweetheart,” he continued in a soothing tone. “You can lower the blade.”
She didn’t. And her voice came out surprisingly calm and strong when she asked, “Was that the same man from Vauxhall?”
“I think so.”
“Why was he here? Why areyouhere?”
There was a sharp note of accusation in her tone.
