“Don’t shove my sister!” Jasper shouted.
“Do you want to swive your Cilla, or not?” Curston demanded. “Shut your stupid sister in the cook’s room and let’s get to it.”
We are not too late. Fury flooded Bane’s mind to the exclusion of all except that single bright thought. He was about to put his shoulder to the door when Garry ran up, reached past him and opened it. The three of them crowded inside, to see Curston standing over Beryl, who was standing with her arms outspread in front of Livy and Cilla, both of them bound, and Livy also gagged. Jasper was beside Curston, grimacing in discomfort.
For a moment, the two men were too focused on the women in front of them to hear the commotion behind them, and by the time they turned, it was too late. Bane’s fist met Curston’s chin, and for a brief time, he was focused on pounding the fiend into flinders.
It was Livy’s voice that brought him back to himself. “Bane, he is unconscious. Stop now, please.” His mind struggled to surface from his killing rage, but her next words acted like a bucket of cold water, washing away the heat of battle. Or not the words so much as the fact that his dear Amazon’s voice shook when she said, “I need you.”
He dropped Curston, leaving him to Garry who was standing ready to bind the villain as Wart was already doing with Jasper. Someone must have untied the sisters while he was dealing with Curston, for his beloved was standing, rubbing her wrists. He opened his arms and Livy walked into them. She rested her head on his chest and sighed, small quivers that were not quite sobs running through the body that he cradled in his arms.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
“Livy!” Cilla objected from her own haven in Drake’s arms, but Bane laughed. That was his warrior queen, making jokes even now.
“I apologize for my tardiness, Livy,” he said, and she looked up.
“I am so glad to see you, Bane.” Her smile was all the reward he needed.
