Page 92 of The Heart of an Earl

Des had to stifle the urge to slap her hand away from the granite. To stop her before she touched her own death. Idiotic, but he didn’t want her anywhere near this grave. Anywhere near where he’d thought her body had been underground. But she’d refused to stay at the coaching inn and wait for him.

Together, come what may.

Her mouth quirked to the side in a partial frown as her fingers settled on the tip of the grave marker. “Before I left for my aunt’s home, my father told me he lost me the day I was taken from thePrimrose. That’s why he left this up. I was dead to him and always will be.”

Des jabbed the shovel into the ground again. “Forgive me, but your father is an ass of the highest order, Jules.”

“Yes. He is that.” She leaned against the obelisk, her fingers rubbing across her name on the granite. Her own death, there for all the world to see.

Des exhaled, fighting for control over the rage exploding in his chest. “Step away from the gravestone, Jules. I cannot watch you touching it.”

Her gaze swung to him, her eyes meeting his in the shadow of the moon.

Silently, she nodded under the hood of her cloak and took a step backward. It took her a silent moment to point to the ground by Des’s feet. “Let us get the box and be done with this place. Forever.”

“Aye.” He lifted and sank the tip of the shovel into the ground and it clinked into metal.

Several more shovelfuls and he’d cleared enough dirt to wedge the box out of the ground. He dropped to his knees, his fingers sinking into the cold dirt and wrapping about the metal edge of the container he’d hidden the Box of Draupnir in.

With a grunt, Des yanked it free of the ground and set it on the pile of dirt.

“Don’t make another move, you bastard, or I’ll blow you through.”

Des froze for the smallest of seconds, the voice of Lord Gatlong wrapping around him from behind, sending his blood to ice, then to an instant boil.

“Don’t shoot.” Slowly, Des lifted his left hand in surrender and his right hand shifted past his belly to the handle of the cutlass he had strapped to his waist. He came to his feet, turning around with great care.

Lord Gatlong squinted in the darkness at Des. “You—you dare to come back here?” He lifted the pistol in his hand high, the barrel pointing at Des’s head. “I should have killed you years ago when you came back instead of sending you off. Time to remedy that oversight.” The ominous click of the hammer being pulled back echoed across the hillside.

“Stop—no—Father—it’s me.” Jules jumped in front of Des, her hands tugging the hood of her cloak from her face. “It’s me Father—me. Julianna.”

The barrel of the pistol shifted, training on Jules.

No.

In an instant, Des grabbed her arm, shoving her to the side and then yanking her behind him. He kept his grip on her forearm, holding her in place even as she struggled against him. The bullet would have to go through him to reach her.

“The both of you. I should have guessed.” Lord Gatlong’s lip snarled. “What do you have there?” He waved the barrel of the gun at the box on the ground by Des’s feet.

Des’s fingers twitched on the cool edge of his cutlass’s handle as he shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? I doubt that—for you to dare step foot on this land—that’s not nothing.” Lord Gatlong’s head cocked to the side, and then he jerked his head back toward the main hall. “We are going back to the house. And you’re bringing that.”

“No.” The word spilled hard—commanding—from Des’s lips.

Lord Gatlong lifted the pistol, aiming it at Des’s head.

Des stilled, dragging in an imperceptible breath. He wasn’t about to be shot dead in front of Jules. He wouldn’t leave her with that image—and then at the mercy of her father.

He inclined his head to Lord Gatlong. “To your house, then.”

Jules clawed at his back. “Des—no—no—we don’t go anywhere with this monster.”

His hold on her arm tightened—tightened until she gasped a breath. “We’ll go to the hall and then leave here forever.” His voice left no margin for argument.

Jules went silent, stilling behind him.

“At least you got her in line. Always too headstrong that one.” Lord Gatlong flicked the pistol in the air. “I’ll follow you.”

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