Page 142 of To Catch A Rogue
"I recognize your woman too. She was to be mine, but you stole her right out from under me." Sergey’s eyes narrowed.
"She was never yours," he said softly.
"I will have restitution."
Obsidian glanced at Balfour. The spymaster looked faintly disapproving now. Whispers circulated through the court.A duel, a duel,he heard, repeated over and over.
"Unless, of course, you wish to make restitution." Sergey’s gaze slid toward Gemma. "I will take her now and all will be forgiven."
Like hell.
Obsidian stepped forward. "She ismine."
"Then we settle this like men, unless you are afraid?"
The whispers surged.
"A duel?" Obsidian asked.
"Why not?" Sergey turned, holding his arms wide. "Clear the floor. Send for pistols and wine. I will add the blood myself."
Several nearby counts chuckled.
"Dmitri," Gemma warned.
"Don't worry," he assured her. "It will be fine."
Frustration seethed through him, and he let it. All of the games, all of the lies. It needed to come to an end.
And then he would deal with Balfour.
"Don’t lose your focus," Gemma warned, stripping the coat down his arms. She placed her hand over his chest, and he realized she was worried about how fragile his waistcoat seemed. No protection there. He should have worn his body armor beneath it.
Obsidian captured her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips. "I will come back to you,muy lyubov. I promise. And then we will finish this together."
Sergey laughed as he stripped his coat off and threw it into the crowd. Women fought for it, and the burnished prince blew them a kiss.
Wonder what his wife thinks about that….
Obsidian stripped everything else from his mind, focusing on Sergey. They were much of a height, though Sergey’s brows and hair were a little darker. He had the look of a Grigoriev, his eyes glittering the way Nikolai’s did.
The Prince of Tsaritsyn, a position that might have been his if Balfour’s lies had been true.
It felt odd, but there was a stab of jealousy running through him. Not for the princedom, no, but for the connection. Sergey was Lark and Nikolai’s cousin.
The murderer of the rest of the Grigoriev family.
An ache shot through his head, a twitch of something… some almost memory… scratching at the surface of the vault they’d locked his memories behind. Blackness shivered through his vision, and Obsidian pushed it away.
He couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, but he could feel his body trembling assomethingshook loose.
"Dmitri?" Gemma noticed.
She always noticed.
"I’m fine."
"You’re not fine," she whispered, her hands clenching his. "What’s wrong? Are your memories breaking through?"
