Page 48 of The Duelist for the Ton
“It’s a pity that, in our world, Miss Whitcombe and others like her, such as young Gabriel Staines, are in need of a champion due to their birth. You are also to be admired, Lady Portia, for coming to their defense.” He lowered his voice, and the gravelly tone resonated in her bones. “In fact, I find much to admire in you.”
She let out a low whimper, and he curled his fingers around hers then brushed the palm of her hand with his thumb. How could such a simple touch cause a fizz of need to ignite in her veins?
She leaned toward him, inhaling his rich scent, then tilted her head back. In the darkness, she could not tell whether he was smiling.
Please let him be smiling.
She closed her eyes, imagining the expression in his eyes were he to smile at her—how the warm chocolate color would deepen to rich mahogany, perhaps punctuated with glimmers of golden light.
Then a cheer filled the air as the crowd surged forward. A bright light soared into the air, before igniting into rainbow-colored stars. An explosion filled the air, resonating through her body, as if the earth vibrated beneath her feet. Then thefireworker set off another explosion to “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd.
Portia turned to the man beside her, but when the shower of light illuminated his face, there was no softness, no smile, but an increasing horror—a fear so primal that her heart froze to see it. His face glowed whitely in the diffused light, and his eyes were a black as night, as if they had absorbed all light, and all hope. And reflected in his eyes, she saw…
Her gut twisted with fear.
In his eyes, she saw the shadow of death.
Chapter Twelve
Sweet Lord, no!
Explosions filled the air, resonating through Stephen’s body until he was, once more, on the battlefield, the stench of death and smoke in his nostrils while his fallen comrades—brave men he’d failed to save—lay dying, crying for the deity that had abandoned them.
He closed his eyes to block out the world, but the nightmare followed, burying itself to fester like a canker, blackening his soul from the inside. The canker swelled with each pulse of his heartbeat, glistening black and red, until it formed a shape—the tall, thin form of a hooded creature wielding a scythe. It rose, towering over him until he fell into its shadow, the coldness seeping into his veins. Then the figure spoke, a whisper as cold as the slow hiss of a blade unsheathing, ready to slice through his throat.
Coward! That’s what you are, Reid, a coward!
No…
Squealing like a babe—and for what? You escaped unscathed while your friends fell at your command, yet you’re the one sniveling, crying the tears of a wretched animal while your wits snap…
A high-pitched laugh sliced through his mind, followed by another, and another, until a whole host of voices tittered and taunted, a coven of cackling phantoms…
He shook his head to dispel the image of broken bodies, but they swelled and pulsed, their expressions accusatory, condemning him for surviving, mouths open, ready to utter the incantation to send him into hell…
“Colonel.”
A voice spoke in the recesses of his mind, sliding between the taunts—a voice unlike those that haunted his dreams. Then gentle fingers curled around his own, pulling him back from the mouth of hell. The demons receded, then another explosion filled the air and he let out a whimper as they surged forward again.
“Colonel Reid!”
The voice came again, pulling him from the nightmare of pain and death, flowing into his mind like cool liquid to soothe the burning agony. Then it lowered to a whispered caress.
“Stephen…”
A hand touched his face.
“Stephen, look at me.”
He opened his eyes.
The dark gray of the battlefield was gone, replaced by a clear blue—as if an ocean were staring right into his soul.
“Breathe…” The voice said, and he complied, drawing in a lungful of air. Then soft fingertips caressed his chin. The ocean focused into two sapphires, wide, expressive eyes in a porcelain-skinned face framed by glossy black curls. He lowered his gaze to her mouth—full, plump lips with the promise of the sweetness of a kiss.
“That’s better,” she breathed.
He looked into her eyes once more and caught his breath at the flare of desire in them.
