Silk and Shadows(151)

He wrenched his gaze away to stare down at the man who had been his devil and his doom. Though Peregrine's barbaric fury had subsided, he still ached to claim his enemy's life. Pushing aside the image of Sara's face, with cool deliberation he poised the knife above Weldon's body, angling first toward the heart, then the throat, then the eyes.

It would be exquisitely easy and profoundly satisfying to collect the ultimate price for the other man's crimes. But it was too late, Peregrine's wildness had passed. To kill Weldon now would be deliberate, cold-blooded murder.

Perhaps Sara would forgive her husband for committing murder. But perhaps she would not.

"Damnation!" Peregrine swore, his furious voice filling the room. For an instant he raged against the bitter knowledge of what he must do. Then he turned back to his enemy and slashed down with fluid, violent power.

Weldon had been waiting for the death stroke with the paralysis of terror, his gaze transfixed by the glittering blade. As light flashed along the descending knife, he gave a panic-stricken, animal shriek.

Weldon's wail was drowned by Peregrine's shattering war cry. Riveted by horror, Sara closed her eyes to block the sight of murder being committed for the second time that evening.

She was on the verge of fainting when she opened her eyes again. It took her a long, shaken moment to believe the stunning scene before her.

Weldon still lived, ash-faced and writhing with terror. Rather than striking a death blow, Mikahl had deliberately driven the knife into the floor beside his enemy's neck.

"You are not worth killing, Weldon," Mikahl said viciously as he wrenched his blade free. "Rather than soil my blade with your blood, I shall hand you over to the tender mercies of British justice."

Knife held warily, Mikahl got to his feet, but his caution was unnecessary. Weldon was broken. Like a whipped dog, he lay cringing and submissive before his conqueror.

"Come, Sara," Mikahl ordered. "I will lock Weldon in here and send the police to deal with him."

Quickly Sara bent to snatch her cloak from the floor where it had fallen earlier, then hastened to her husband's side.

Weldon pushed himself to a sitting position, his expression incredulous at being spared. Keeping his gaze fixed on his enemy, Mikahl collected the two pistols, giving the empty one to Sara and keeping the loaded one himself. Then he backed across the room to the door. "Every scurrilous newspaper in Britain will be screaming for your blood, Weldon. Your name will become a synonym for evil and hypocrisy."

Mikahl ushered Sara outside, then pulled the key from the inside lock. "You'll hang, Weldon, for the murder of Mrs. Kent if nothing else. Perhaps your neck will break, and you'll die quickly, but that doesn't always happen. Death by strangulation is slow and painful—you can look forward to that while you rot in prison."

He closed the door and locked it. With the windows barred, Weldon would not escape before the police came.

Still trembling with strain, Sara watched Mikahl in anxious silence, knowing he must be furious over her stupidity in coming to the brothel. When he turned to her with blazing eyes, Sara braced herself for an explosion.

Furious her husband might be, but he did not waste time in recriminations. Instead he swept her into a rib-bruising hug that lifted Sara from her feet. She responded with frantic relief, burrowing deep into his arms and finding safety in his strength.

The embrace ended as abruptly as it had begun. As Mikahl released her, he said with surprising mildness, "Coming here was not one of your better ideas, Sara."

"I know." She brushed her hair from her eyes with an unsteady hand. "I was so afraid of what might happen to Eliza, but in the end, I did her no good."

"The girl was not seriously injured?"

"I believe she is all right. I heard them speak when Charles brought her downstairs." Sara shuddered. "I think he had gone up with the intention of ravishing the new girl. When he realized that it was Eliza, he must have pretended that he had come to rescue her. Pray God she never learns what almost happened. What if the room had not been well lit, or he had been too drunk to notice who she was?"

"But that didn't happen," he said quietly. "Eliza is safe, you are safe. And you would not be my Sara if you were not willing to risk your life to help an innocent child."

Though Mikahl's dangerous wildness had passed, his green eyes still held a strange, volatile light that Sara could not interpret. There was much to be said between them.

Before she could decide where to start, they were interrupted by the sound of people entering the downstairs hall. Sara stiffened, fearing that new danger threatened.

"Don't worry," her husband reassured her. "That is two of my guards and Slade, with Jenny doubtless tagging along behind."