Page 89 of Their Master

Becausethis—thisinsane agony in theComte’s maddened eyes—was worth dying for. He’d waited three-quarters of his life for this moment, and it was… delicious.

Smith laughed—or at least tried to—but no sound came out of his mouth.

He heard Moira yell, the sound distant and tinny. “Stop it, you’ll kill him!”

“Get back!” Etienne Bardot shouted.

There was more shouting—and scuffling—but he could no longer see clearly.

“Give that back, Honorine!Arrrgh—”

A pistol went off, the noise deafening even in Smith’s head, which had been ringing ever since Blois’s first slap.

“Get off him, my lord,” Moira said in a loud, but calm, voice.

“What do you think you are doing, Honorine?” theComtethundered.

“Get off him,now!”

TheComte’s hands loosened and then he pushed to his knees using Smith’s battered ribs as a springboard.

Smith wasted no time filling his burning lungs with cool air, his vision slowly clearing.

“You were going to kill him,” Moira/Catherine/Honorine Dunsmuir-Duvalle-Bardot accused. She held the gun in both hands, but the barrel still jumped and shook.

“Put that gun down,” Blois ordered, struggling to his feet, his son rushing over to help him.

“You said we were taking him back to France to stand trial for Sandrine’s murder,” Moira said.

Smith laughed, although it sounded more like a death rattle. Poor Moira—she would always be Moira in his mind—she was so very, very young.

“Give me the gun, Honorine,” Blois said, fury pulsing in his voice.

Moira’s hands shook even worse, the gun pointing in a direction that was far too close to Smith’s cock and balls for him to be entirely easy.

“Stay back—I won’t give the gun to you. Not until I know what this”—she waved the pistol around the room, scattering the two standing men like roaches exposed to light— “is all about.”

“How dare you questionme, you—”

“No more lies!” Moira’s voice broke on the last word. “I want the truth,now.”

“He killed my only son!” Blois shouted back at her, his voice shaking with rage.

Moira and Etienne exchanged a long look in the awkward silence that followed their father’s declaration.

For his part, theComte’s pale face flushed at his words, but he didn’t try to take them back.

Moira turned to Smith. “Is that true?”

“No.”

“Youliar!” Blois lunged for him yet again.

“Get back, my lord.” Moira’s voice was like steel.

“She wouldn’t really shoot us, my lord,” Etienne said taking a step toward his sister.

Moira pointed the revolver in the direction of her brother’s feet, closed her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

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