Page 67 of The Lady’s Guide to Deception and Desire
“How dare you! Coming where you’ve no business. I’ll kill you both. Down here, no one will find you. I’ll seal the place up afterwards if I must. Two lovers run away. How about that!”
“Uncle, no!” Benedict gasped, trying to shield himself, but the duke’s next punch caught him on the side of the head and he groaned, lying still.
Lord Studborne stood, shaking out his hand, then stepped over the prostrate body of his nephew, heading to the sarcophagus, where the viper lay waiting.
Furiously, Rosamund worked to tear the last remnants of her bonds, her shoulders burning with the effort. If she could only get free!
“My beauty, you have tasted of my duchess in vain and now must return to your lair.” The duke lifted the snake once more onto his shoulders, gripping its head tightly.
Then, bending to the coffin, he appeared to kiss the forehead of what lay within. “We shall find another for you, my Violetta; a more worthy vial to receive your spirit. I shall go to London if I must, but we shall find the destined one.”
The duke looked towards Rosamund with unconcealed hatred. “You, I shall make suffer. The sacrificial blade shall take your tongue, and then your life. The libation shall remain a stain upon the earth of this crypt as a reminder to me never to be again deceived.”
His gaze fell to the floor beside her. “Where is the sacred dagger? Do not think to hide it in your skirts, unless you wish me to rip them from you.”
With a gasp of triumph, Rosamund broke through the last scrap of fabric. Though her arms were heavy and awkward from lack of movement, and her hands near numb, she knew what she must do.
“You want the dagger? Then you may have it!” Resting her elbow on her half-folded leg, she brought the weapon level with her shoulder. Grasping the hilt, she aimed and flung it towards Lord Studborne.
She aimed for where his torso was thickest, but lacked strength to send the knife to its mark. Instead, the dagger’s blades struck the duke’s thigh.
Roaring in pain, he spun about and, in so doing, lost his grip upon the serpent’s head. In a flash, the viper bared its fangs and fine jets of venom arced through the air. With a howl, Lord Studborne pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.
The viper lunged, this time burying its mouth to the duke’s neck. Lord Studborne's eyes opened in disbelief, and his face contorted in a spasm of agony. He staggered, lurching forward then back, the snake’s fangs still embedded in his throat.
He reeled from one sarcophagus to the next, until reaching the tunnel through which he’d dragged Rosamund.
With a choking heave, he ran into its depths, careening against the walls. There was a sound of splintering, then a great crack and rumble.
Lord Studborne’s final scream was buried in the boom of falling earth.
Someone was touchingBenedict’s forehead and speaking soft words. He winced. What the devil had happened to his head?
It felt as if a horse had kicked it.
Then he remembered.
His uncle had gone raving mad. That last punch must have knocked him out.
“You’re alright. We both are.”
Fingers were loosening his collar. Benedict opened his eyes to see Rosamund looking down on him; his head was in her lap.
She looked relieved and worried at the same time. Anxious about him—when it had been she who’d been tied up and about to be murdered!
“My uncle?” He tried to sit up, only to fall back again, a sliver of pain piercing his temple.
“He can’t hurt us. He’s… He’s with Violetta now.”
Dead?
His stomach lurched. His uncle had lost all reason, but he was the only one left. The only family.
Benedict swallowed hard. “Then it’s just me.”
“No.” Those soft fingers soothed and stroked. “I’m here.”
The way she was looking at him, with such concern! A look that was only possible when you were with someone who mattered to you. Someone you cared for deeply.
