Page 24 of A Dark and Stormy Knight
Instantly on alert, Morley glanced over at Argent, who made a baffled gesture.
“Please.” The Vicar’s pallor was alarming. “Don’t make a scene.”
Argent stepped forward. “Should I accompany—?”
“No! Only Sir Morley.” The reverend was tugging on his jacket now, dragging him toward the back of the chapel like a recalcitrant child might his dawdling nanny.
“We’ll find our seat and save you one,” Millie offered, tugging her husband in the opposite direction.
Morley followed the frantic priest down an empty stone hall with vibrant purple carpets. “Lord Goode and the Viscount Woodhaven sent me to find you right away. There’s been a— Well, the groom. Thebride. Oh my God, of all the nightmares. So much blood.”
When Morley entered the sitting room, he froze.
Not because of the blood, though itwaseverywhere. Soaking into the floral carpet, spreading past it onto the grey stone floor. Coloring the bodice of the bride’s cream dress in a dappled spray. Saturating her hem and train where she stood, paralyzed, in the puddle draining from a man’s neck. The dripping knife still clutched in her trembling, blood-drenched hands.
The fucking priest had been right.
Of all the nightmares…
It washer.
Chapter 5
Prudence was locked in a chamber of red.
She drowned in it. It filled her lungs so she couldn’t breathe. Her ears so she couldn’t hear. She could even taste it, or could she? Metal stained her tongue, but her mouth was as dry as sandpaper. Her throat wouldn’t allow her to swallow. She choked on her gall and grief.
William was yelling. He’d found her like this. Poor William. She’d never liked Honoria’s husband because of this tendency of his…always making such a ruckus.
“You bloody viper. You lunatic!” the Viscount accused. “How could you kill him? In a church of all places?”
“I-I couldn’t!”
Well, that wasn’t strictly true, now was it? Shecouldhave cheerfully murdered him many times over the past three months.
“I didn’t,” she amended.She hadn’t.
Pru looked down at her hands. Back at George. Over at William’s purple, puffy complexion, then down at her fiancé.
The blood wasn’t pumping anymore but draining slowly. Staining her dress. Everything and everywhere. The pool spread; the blood followed her as she stumbled back a few steps. A train of condemnation.
Oh God. She was going to be sick.
Except had nothing left to throw up, not since she’d emptied her stomach this morning.
“Prudence, don’t youdaremove! What have you done?”
When had her father come in? She should be relieved, shouldn’t she? He’d know what to do.
She lifted the knife to show him. Someone had stuck it into the place George’s shoulder had met his neck. This long, long,longknife. All the way in. Why would they do that? Where had they gone?
It was so cold.So cold. And it had been so warm before in the crowded church. Warm enough to complain about it. They were both screaming at her. Making so much noise they could almost be heard over the bells. Wedding bells.Herwedding bells.
It all clamored so loudly it was deafening, and yet also very far away. Bells and bellows. Her father shouting questions. William calling her every sort of name.
Prudence tried to speak, but her throat wouldn’t allow it. Her tongue was stuck. Too dry.
Why was she still holding the knife? Why couldn’t her fingers uncurl?
