Page 73 of The Damsel
Barreling from behind him with her dagger raised, she lunged at Downing with a sharp cry. Her blade plunged into his belly, sinking deep as his blood spilled forth to drench her hand. His knees buckled as she drew it free and stabbed him again, this time in the heart. He brought both hands up over hers, eyes wide with shock and betrayal as she stared beyond her at Robert.
Coming to stand at her side, Robert gave him a sardonic smile. “I said thatIwould spare your life. I never said anything about her.”
“For Lady Downing,” she hissed, giving the knife a twist, then letting it go.
Downing fell back onto the ground, gasping and gurgling as his own blood welled up in his mouth. It dripped down his chin as he convulsed, his hands falling away from the knife as he struggled to draw his last breaths.
Taking hold of her sheet again, she pulled it around her body and turned away from Downing’s corpse. The man had paid for what he’d done to his wife, and Stratford could never harm anyone else ever again. The two men who knew the identity of the Masked Menace were no more.
“What will we do with the bodies?” Peter asked from behind her.
“Leave them," Robert replied. "We take the driver and pay him for his silence once he awakens. He helped them make off with an abducted woman ... the threat of being exposed ought to be enough to keep him quiet."
When she turned to give him a puzzled frown, he returned her gaze with a determined expression.
“It is over, Cass,” he said, extending one hand to her. “The Menace dies right here, tonight. He attacked Stratford, who fought back and stabbed him. Before he died, he managed to fire off a shot, killing Stratford. That is how the world will remember it … it is what everyone will believe. Now, you will leave here with me and never look back. The Menace is no more, and you are free to begin anew.”
Cassandra gazed down at his hand, strong and clean, and offered without hesitation. Her own hand was drenched in not only her own blood, but Downing’s as well.
How could he have done this for her when they both knew she deserved none of it?
But, as Robert held her gaze, she recognized the surety in the depths. He did not waver, he did not cringe away, or look at her as if she were somehow beneath him for the things she’d done. There was only love, and the acceptance he’d always shown her without wavering.
“I just killed a man.”
He nodded, but seemed unaffected by her declaration. “He would have killed you first, so it stands to reason he deserved it.”
How could he be so unruffled by it all? How could he not look upon her and see a woman who had put him in danger and did not think twice about murdering someone in cold blood?
“I love you,” he said, as if in answer to the questions she hadn’t asked aloud. “And that will never change. Now, come.”
Hesitating only a moment, she reached out to take his hand. Instead of pulling away from his gentle tug, she surrendered and let him bring her against his body and wrap her in his arms.
There was nothing left to fight for or against. She could insist she didn’t need saving, or she could admit that her pain and vulnerability required his affection. Her beautiful lover. Her saving grace.
Closing her eyes and burying her face in his shirtfront, she inhaled the fading remnants of Spanish Leather and sweat. She knew she must reek to the high heavens, but he buried his face in her hair and held on tight as if she’d been bathed in rosewater and drenched in lavender oil.
The relief of being safe again washed over her, and she sagged in his arms, giving herself up to oblivion as the world around her began to fade.
2 DAYS LATER…
Robert sat at Cassandra’s bedside, elbows braced on his knees as he watched her sleep. Upon leaving Downing and Stratford’s dead bodies on the side of the road, he’d taken her unconscious form into his arms and carried her back to his carriage. After the hell he was certain she’d endured, exhaustion had taken its toll. He’d held her in his lap as they rode back to Town, Peter seated across from him and Felix sharing the perch with his driver.
Relief had stolen the last of the tension from his limbs, making it difficult to stay awake. All his worrying and planning had ended, and now he was only glad it was over, to have her back with him where she belonged. They’d slept all the way back to The Pulteney Hotel, where Peter had left them to go in search of a doctor. The sun had not yet risen, and only a small amount of staff were on duty so late, so Robert hadn’t had any trouble whisking her up to her suite undetected.
Once there, he’d unwrapped her from the dirty, bloodied bed sheet, enraged by what he found. Aside from her battered face, she sported bruises along her ribs and thighs, and one of them had used the dagger on her as well. Most of the cuts were shallow, but one along her forearm and another on the inside of her thigh concerned him. They would need cleaning and stitches. He’d run for one of the night footmen and requested a hot bath for her in the neighboring sitting room.
He’d bathed her while she slept on, her head rested against the lip of the tub as he gently scrubbed her clean of her ordeal. At least, as much of it as he could touch. Without knowing the extent of what they’d done to her, he knew there could be scars embedded so deep he might never reach them.
Peter had returned with the physician not long after her bath, who had banished him and Robert back into the drawing room while he examined her. The deepest of her cuts had required stitching, though her exhaustion had allowed her to remain unconscious while the man worked. They’d been assured she would recover as long as they kept watch for signs of infection. With nothing left to do, the surgeon departed, leaving them to tend to her. By then, dawn had come, and Robert began to have a difficult time remaining on his feet. His days spent watching and waiting outside Downing’s residence had begun to take their toll.
“I will return tomorrow for a report,” Peter had said. “Millie will want to know how she is faring.”
“Thank you for all you did to help me. Be sure to convey my gratitude to Millicent as well.”
“I love my lady, and my lady loves her friend,” Peter had replied, as if that were explanation enough. “She would have been devastated had anything happened to Cassandra.”
Once the man departed, Robert had sent for fresh water for himself. Bathing away the past few days, he then climbed into bed beside Cassandra and pulled her nude body into his arms, careful not to agitate her wounds.
