Page 88 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
While he was masked.
In the hunting shack.
‘Fuck!’
It all became so stupidly obvious. Reynard Renquist, fellow soldier, compatriot, and friend, was the masked killer.
Drake ran for the door.
Millie took a tentative step forward, hoping Renquist would step back. Instead, he tightened his grip on the pistol, his hand shaking slightly.
‘Stay back.’
She put both hands out. ‘Reynard, surely, we can work this out. I know the war wasn’t easy for any of you. You’re right. You deserve peace after so much conflict. Can’t we come to an agreement?’
‘You don’t understand!’ he screamed, his hand shaking so badly, Millie feared he might accidentally fire. ‘It’s too late for me. I’m one of the monsters now. Unredeemable. Father would be so proud.’ He laughed, a chilling, high-pitched sound. The features once making him so handsome, twisted in pained rage.
And then he stepped back.
His heel hit the dip.
He bobbled.
This was her chance.
Millie released the blade on her wrist, feeling its heft in her palm.
Renquist fell to his knees. The pistol dropped to his side and he covered his face. Tears and snot streamed down his cheeks. His heart-wrenching sobs stayed her hand.
‘Dear God. Renquist.’ Pity once more took centre stage. She hunkered down next to him, her free hand patting his shoulder while she still clasped the blade in her left. ‘We’ll figure something out.’ She wished her words were true.
‘It’s too late for me. Too fucking late.’ Reynard’s words were muffled, his hands covering his face.
The stairs creaked, shattering the moment.
Reynard dropped his hands, his gaze moving from the stairs to Millie.
Before she could react, he grabbed her with his strong left arm while scrabbling for the pistol with his right. He cried out in pain from his wound, but it didn’t stop him pulling her up as he stood and twisted her around. His left arm banded around her chest like a vice while his injured right hand pressed the muzzle of the gun to her ribs.
Drake stepped into the cellar.
‘Let her go, Reynard.’
‘No! She’s coming with me. I’ll kill her, Drake. If you don’t let me pass, I’ll fucking kill her right now. My hand might be too damaged to aim, but I can still pull a trigger.’
Drake’s wild gaze flitted to Millie. He had a gun in his hand, but he put it down on the floor, kicking it out of the way. ‘Don’t! Please don’t. Let her go and I won’t raise a hand against you. You can walk out of here a free man. I swear it!’
‘Like you swore victory would be ours in the war? Your promises are as empty as my pockets, Drake.’ Reynard was screaming again. Millie cringed away from the force of his words.
She needed to think. She couldn’t let Reynard escape. Nor would she put Drake in danger. Levelling her gaze on Drake, a strange calm descended. Everything slowed, like a raindrop creeping down the windowpane.
Widen your stance.
Centre your weight.
Concentrate on your breath.
In a fast, smooth movement, she bent at the waist, thrusting her back into his pelvis, creating space between them before ramming her head back, slamming it into his nose. Stars flashed in her vision, but she bit down hard on her cheek, forcing herself to focus. The blade pressed into her palm. His grip loosened,and Millie spun, lifting her left hand in an arc that swept across Reynard’s windpipe.
