Sylvia Day - Passion for Him

Then she heard an unmistakable noise that filled her with dread-the sound of swords clashing outside.

For a moment, she feared the men had not succeeded with their early morning capture of Cartland, but the lack of shouting and mayhem dispelled that thought.

The duel!

She called out for her abigail as she leaped up from the bed. “Anne!”

Hurrying to the window, she threw the drapes wide, cursing under her breath to see the pale gray-and-pink sky.

Amelia rushed to her armoire and pulled out a shawl. “Anne!”

The door opened, and she turned in an agitated flurry. “Why did you not wake me before-Maria!”

“Amelia.”

The note of sympathy in Maria’s voice caused gooseflesh to flare across Amelia’s arms. “No!” she breathed, rushing past her sister to the gallery.

“Poppet! Wait!”

But she did not. She ran with all the strength she had, nearly crashing into an industrious chambermaid before skittering around the corner and stumbling down the stairs. As she approached the lower floor, the unmistakable ring of clashing foils iced her blood. Amelia was nearly to the French doors that led to the rear terrace and the lawn beyond that when she was caught in a crushing embrace and restrained. She attempted a scream, but was gagged by a massive hand over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Tim muttered. “I can’t let you distract ’em while they’re fighting. That’s ’ow men are killed.”

She shuddered violently at the thought of either man being injured. Struggling like a madwoman, Amelia fought for freedom, but even grown men could not best Tim. As the sounds of fighting continued, tears welled and coursed freely. Every clang of steel clashing against steel struck her like a blow, causing her to jerk repeatedly in Tim’s arms. He cursed and pressed his cheek to hers, murmuring things meant to soothe, but nothing could alleviate her distress.

Then…silence.

Amelia froze, afraid to breathe in case the sound would overpower the heralds of whatever was transpiring outside.

Tim carried her to a nearby window and pushed up the sash a bare inch. A damp, chilly breeze blew through the tiny gap, making her shiver.

“You are the better man.”

Colin’s voice drifted to her ears, and her lips quivered against Tim’s palm.

“You are the reasonable choice,” he continued in a grim tone. “You have been steadfast and true to her. Unlike my estate, your wealth and title are long-standing. You can give her things that I cannot.”

Amelia hung limply in Tim’s arms, sobbing silently.

“Most importantly, her affection for me is not something she welcomes, while she gratefully embraces her future with you.”

Her head turned to the side, her tear-stained cheek pressing against Tim’s thundering heart.

Colin was leaving her, as he had so many times before.

Tim’s hand fell away from her mouth.

“Release me,” she whispered, her spirit broken. “I will not go outside.”

He set her down and she turned away.

“Poppet.” Maria waited at the bottom of the stairs with her arms wide open. Amelia walked gratefully into them, her knees weakening, forcing them both to sit on the bottom step.

“I had hope,” Amelia whispered, her chest crushed by grief such as she had not felt since she first believed Colin had died. “I hate myself for having hope. Why can I not learn from the past? Those I love do not stay in my life. They all leave. Every one of them. Except for you…only you stay…”

“Hush. You are overwrought.”

Strong arms curved beneath her as Tim lifted her up. She curled against his chest as he carried her back to her bedchamber with Maria in tow.

Colin straightened from his low bow, his eyes meeting Ware’s as the earl mimicked his movements. He felt the hot trickle of blood weeping from the shallow wound caused by Ware’s blade, but he did not care. Ware had satisfaction, but that was all he would have. It would have to be enough for the earl, for Colin intended to take the spoils.

“But regardless of everything that recommends you, my lord,” Colin continued, “I concede only this duel. Not Miss Benbridge. Her deeper affection is for me, as always. And I believe my feelings for her are quite obvious to one and all.”

“Which is why you abandoned her for several years?” the earl scoffed.

“I cannot alter the past. However, I can assure you that from the present moment onward, nothing on Earth can take her from me.”

Ware’s blue eyes narrowed, and thick tension filled the air between them. Then the corner of the earl’s mouth lifted. “Perhaps you are not the man I thought you were.”

“Perhaps not.”

They bowed again, then quit the lawn, both men heading in the separate directions their lives would now take them.

The next half hour of Amelia’s life-or was it an hour?-passed in a daze. Maria forced tea upon her, as well as a hefty dose of laudanum.

“It will calm you,” her sister murmured.

“Go away,” she muttered, slapping at the many hands that sought to soothe her brow.

“I will read quietly,” Maria said, “and send your abigail away.”

“No. You go, too.”

Eventually they gave up and went away, leaving Amelia to curl into herself and fall back into a dreamless, drug-induced sleep.

Sadly, the respite did not last long. Far too soon another hand brushed the curls back from her face.

“I suppose I have only myself to blame for your lack of faith.”

Colin’s voice brushed across her skin like a tangible caress. She rolled into him, grasping with her hands. He caught them with his own and squeezed.

“You were supposed to sleep straight through this morning,” he murmured, pulling the blankets back from her. “I wanted to spare you any possibility of distress.”

She was lifted and cradled to a warm, hard chest. The scent of his skin, so alluringly masculine and uniquely Colin, urged her to bury her tear-streaked face in his cravat.

She was distantly aware of being carried. It felt as if they descended a staircase, and then fresh air was drifting over her skin, making her shiver.

“There’s a blanket in my carriage,” he murmured. “A minute more and then you will be comfortable again.”

A moment later she was jostled into a carriage, and it set off with a lurch, the wheels crunching across gravel. She was held securely in Colin’s lap and covered warmly. Tears leaked out between her closed eyelids, and she prayed that she would never wake from such a wonderful dream.

His firm lips pressed tightly against her forehead. “Sleep.”

Drugged by the laudanum, she did.

It was the sudden cessation of motion that woke Amelia. Blinking, she fought off the remnants of sleep.

“The horses are fatigued and I am near starved.” Colin’s deep voice pulled her from half awareness to full cognizance in an instant.

The duel…

Bolting upright, the top of her head made sharp contact with his chin, causing them both to cry out.

“Ow, damn it,” he muttered, rearranging her atop his lap as if she weighed nothing at all.

Wild-eyed, Amelia took in the luxurious appointments of Colin’s travel coach and then leaned out the window. They were in the courtyard of what appeared to be an inn.

She glanced at him and found him rubbing his chin. “Where are we?”

“On our way.”

“To where?”

“To be wed.”

Amelia blinked. “What?”

His smile revealed his dimples and reminded her of the boy she had fallen so deeply in love with. “You said that we had no hope of moving forward together if I was forever leaving you behind. Since I had no further reason to enjoy Lord Ware’s hospitality, it was time for us to go.”

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to collect what it was that he was saying. “I do not understand. Did you not duel this morning?”