Rhys tried to remain calm, he kept his voice pitched low and his tone even when he said, “It's me you hate. I'm the one who is depriving you of your title. Kill me; you can put that ball in me right now. Michael and Spence will swear that it was an honorable duel. Just let her go."
Emme shook her head at him, unable to speak. She couldn't believe what he was proposing. “No,” she managed to croak out.
Alistair laughed and the sound was filled with madness. “So touching. She's such a whore. They're all whores, just like my mother, just like Elise. Especially Elise, but she was special because she never denied it, or attempted to hide her true nature. She was perfect for me in that regard. She adored it when I punished her for her wickedness."
"And Melisande?” he asked, his voice deceptively soft.
He shrugged; the casual gesture at odds with the hellish light in his eyes. “Well, it was unfortunate. I had gone to the tavern in town, intending to tumble a maid there who had been more than willing. But then Jeremy had charmed her away from me. It was just something else of mine that he had stolen. I was walking back here, furious over the incident when I found her. I decided then that I would take something that was his. I would use his precious baby sister and leave her worthless. Oh, I admit, it wasn't a well thought out plan, not in the least, but I was young and hot-headed then."
He was completely insane, Emme realized. She began her struggles anew, fighting against the vicious hold he had on the ribbon, tethering her.
"But my dearest mother came to the rescue then. She finished the job. There was all that blood and I had panicked. I didn't have a taste for murder, yet. It doesn't bother me so much now."
Emme could feel the ribbon growing tighter. In his excitement he gripped it tighter and tighter as he spoke. Consciousness was fading. She looked at Rhys, memorizing every detail of his face. She wished then that she'd told him, that she'd been brave enough to say that she loved him when she'd had the chance.
Rhys watched Emme's eyes growing heavy lidded. He could see Michael approaching from behind Alistair. No one could move as silently as Michael and that was perhaps the only thing that would save them all. “Let her go, Alistair. I will give you whatever you ask, if you let her go. Your secrets need not come out."
"What I want is the title. And the only way I will get it is if you die and the whelp she's carrying dies too. I can't risk it you see. I can't risk that she might have a son."
Michael continued to approach stealthily, creeping ever closer. Rhys never blinked, never acknowledged, but kept his gaze steadfastly fixed on Alistair. Suddenly, Emme went limp, sinking against Alistair as she lost consciousness. He stumbled with her weight, the pistol wavering. Michael sprang, knocking him to the ground. The pistol fired and Rhys felt the familiar burn in his shoulder. He ignored it as he rushed forward and caught Emme as she fell, pulling her away from the two men locked in battle. His right arm was useless, the ball lodged firmly in his shoulder. He collapsed to the ground beside her as Spencer rushed into the clearing.
Spencer raised the pistol that Larissa had brought. With a steady hand and the same cool manner that had made him such an excellent marksman on the battlefield, he aimed and fired.
Alistair's struggles ceased immediately. There was a small neat hole in the center of his forehead. Rhys didn't have to look to know that the exit wound would not be so pretty.
Spencer lowered the weapon and met Michael's gaze. “I couldn't let you kill him. You have enough on your conscience already."
Emme stirred, her eyelids fluttering.
Rhys touched her face. “It isn't over yet, love,” he said.
"Alistair?” she asked, her voice hoarse and low. Bruises were already forming about her neck.
"He's dead. But he didn't kill Melisande or Elise. It was Eleanor,” Rhys said.
Emme slipped into unconsciousness again
Michael looked at Spencer, “Since you're the one with the brute strength, you carry Her Grace, and I will assist His Grace back to the house. Where is Larissa?"
"She's hiding a few yards back,” Spencer said as he strode forward and picked her up.
Michael helped Rhys to his feet and removed his cravat. He applied a temporary bandage to his wound. “We'll do a better job of that at the house."
They made the trek back to the house in uneasy silence. Rhys was losing more blood than Michael was comfortable with and Emme still had not regained consciousness. When they reached the house, Rhys finally spoke, “Take her to my chambers. I'm not letting her out of my sight."
Michael didn't protest because he knew it would be pointless. Spencer cast him an arch look. Both of them were aware that Rhys was in no condition to protect anyone. They sent Rhys’ valet to fetch clean water and bandages.