Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke(84)

Through tears, she stared at the red on his chest. Wet, sticky . . .

Vomit tried to climb up her throat. Her heartbeat slammed in her head, sounding as loud as gunshots. She had to regain control.

“God. Christ Jesus. What in Hades have I done?” The Duke of Saxonby dropped down on one knee beside her, beside Sinclair’s body.

The duke pulled her back, away from Sinclair. “He shot me first. I lost my head. I thought—in that moment, I thought he had set this all up to kill me. That he was the killer and had arranged this damned duel to shoot me. I thought he’d killed Georgiana.”

Portia struggled to break free of Saxonby’s grip. “You didn’t have to shoot to kill him. He shot first—his pistol was spent.”

“I lost my head. I panicked and I wasn’t thinking. It’s not so easy to aim to just maim a man with duelling pistols.”

She pulled back so violently she lost her balance and fell on her bottom, sliding on the grass. Saxonby looked at her sadly, then reached over and touched Sinclair’s neck.

She touched his neck too. She couldn’t feel anything. No pulse.

It couldn’t be. It must be her fingers were too cold to feel. Or she hadn’t put them in the right place. He couldn’t be dead.

Someone was sobbing. Salt dribbled into her mouth. She was the one crying, and her whole body seemed to dissolve into tears. She fell against Sinclair’s chest. He was still warm. She held him tight, mumbling his name against his bloodstained shirt. “You have to be alive,” she whispered. “You have to be. I just want you to be alive.”

Saxonby’s hands gripped her. He lifted her to her feet and this time she didn’t have the strength to pull away.

“My God, Miss Love, I’m sorry. But he shot first. We have to face the fact that Sin might have been behind all of this.”

Clumsily, she swept her hands over her face. Fiercely wiping tears away. “What are you talking about?” Anger flooded her voice now. Anger at this man. Even despairing anger at Sinclair.

“Don’t you see?” Saxonby said earnestly. “He pushed us into this duel with illogical, unfounded accusations. Breaking the rules that conduct a gentleman, he shot first. I believe it was his intent to murder me. The duel was a smokescreen for my death. I believe Sinclair may well have been the killer.”

It was as if she were standing on an island made of fog and it just dissolved beneath her. Portia’s stomach dropped sickeningly. “I don’t believe that. I’ll never believe that.”

“If he’s not, we’re still in danger. I vow I will protect you with my life.”

“You killed Sin. I don’t want you near me. Stay away from me.”

She took a step back. She didn’t want to leave Sinclair’s body, but fear was clutching at her.

“If he hadn’t shot first, I wouldn’t have killed him,” Saxonby muttered. “I would have known he was still . . . Sinclair. The honorable man I knew.”

Saxonby bent and lifted the—the body. He staggered as he did, but he was strong enough to do it. She wanted to be sick, but she also had to be strong. She had to be composed. For that was what she did—she did not fall to pieces.

Yet she wanted to.

Saxonby let Sinclair’s lifeless form fall over his shoulder and she felt almost as lifeless. “I’ll take him up to his room, like the others—” He broke off. “No, not his room. That is your bedchamber as well. I’ll take him to one of the empty rooms.”

Numb, she followed Saxonby. Carrying Sinclair’s empty pistol. She didn’t know why she’d picked it up. She was cradling it against her chest, holding it with two hands.

He couldn’t be dead.

This had to be a nightmare.

She pinched herself. It hurt, so this was real, but she couldn’t even squeak at the sharp pain. She was too empty. She trailed behind Saxonby, who was still carrying Sinclair’s body over his shoulder, straining because Sinclair was strong and powerfully built.

Through the terrace doors. Into the hallway and to the stairs, past frightened faces. And frantic whispers.

“He killed the Duke of Sinclair!”

“Sinclair shot first. So who is the killer? Could it have been Sin? Or Sax?”

“I say, Saxonby, halt where you are!”

That was the Corinthian Earl. He barked, “You’ve just killed a man.”

“And what in hell are you going to do about it?” Saxonby demanded. “It was a duel—a duel and Sin damn well cheated. I am not the lunatic who has murdered people on this island. But this insanity has just caused me to take the life of my good friend. Now, leave me the hell alone, and let me take Sin’s body upstairs.”