One Night of Sin (47 page)

The horse was just too tall. Recalling the tree stump where she had seen the crow cawing earlier, she quickly led the hunter over to it, but she was too late.

Though only one minute had passed, Mikhail came bursting out of the cottage’s broken door. “Oh, I’ve had it with you,” he said, and came after her.

He waved his arms wildly as he moved toward her, deliberately spooking the horse. Becky lost her grip on the leather reins as the animal rebelled. She had no choice but to turn and run.

“You’re a dead woman. Do you hear me? If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me!”

Terror overtaking her, Becky fled, tearing down the narrow footpath through the woods. Her chest heaved frantically. The world spiraled. She ran as fast as she could in her kid slippers, feeling every sharp rock and breaking twigs beneath her feet. She tripped on a fallen log but kept going, pausing only to wrench her skirts free when they caught on a stubborn branch. The delicate silk tore. She kept going, her chest heaving.

Mikhail was not far behind her. His bellow sent a chill like ice down her spine.

“Rebeccaaaaaa!”

Ferocious protectiveness burned through Alec’s veins as he battled the three remaining Cossacks at one time. Parry, thrust, turn, parry, riposte. He had never fought like this before in his life. Something had taken over: A power flowed through him. He surrendered to it, moving with the rhythm of the fight. It all came with ease; he no longer felt the injuries he had sustained when they had leaped on him. He paid no mind to his quivering muscles and the sweat that poured down his face. There was no way he was going to lose. The greater part of his attention, however, had fled outside with Becky.

She needed him.

Kurkov had gone after her, and Alec knew now that her cousin wanted her blood. His foes were tiring. It was time to finish them off, and Alec did so without mercy for what they had done to his friends.

He struck the first man hard in the sword arm, laying it open to the bone, then ran him through. He freed his weapon from the dying man’s rib cage as another man sliced at him; Alec ducked the blow and struck back with a hacking blow to his neck, nearly taking his head off. The third man looked at him, aghast.

Alec moved toward him. The Cossack tried to run. Alec nimbly blocked his exit and forced him to fight. In moments the last Cossack sank to his knees with a yelp of pain that dwindled to a gasp. Alec twisted the blade in his gut, his jaw clenched.

Withdrawing his sword, he wiped blood and entrails off the blade on another corpse’s uniform, took the dead man’s pistol, then jumped out of the low window to save Becky from Mikhail.

Chasing the sound of the prince’s deep, mad bellows, Alec raced into the woods, following the narrow footpath.

Still propelled forward by her wild momentum from running down the hill, Becky burst out of the woods and nearly went barreling headlong over a cliff. She stopped herself with a gasp, flinging herself to her knees to stop her fall.

The sea sprawled out before her with the blinding morning sun straight ahead, nearly level with the promontory.
I know this place,
she thought, taken off guard by sudden, fleeting wonder, sweet memory flooding her mind.

This was the very spot where Alec and she had picnicked weeks ago . . . and exchanged deep, longing kisses as they rolled around together on the soft green turf.

Then she heard low, cold laughter behind her and scrambled dizzily to her feet. When she turned around, Mikhail was only about twelve feet away with a sword in his hand.

“Oh,” he said richly, “I’ve been waiting for this.”

She looked over her shoulder at the drop-off behind her. In front of her, her murderous cousin approached, brandishing his weapon.

“You know, Rebecca, you never should have tried to fight me back in Yorkshire. You should have simply submitted to my authority, and none of this need ever have happened. Look at what you’ve done. All of us are ruined for it. All because of you. Dmitry Maximov—dead. Your fault. I did not intend to kill him. You forced me to.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said in a shaky voice.

“It’s true. I meant to keep him for a hostage, as with you, but it’s too late for that now. It’s too late for all of us. All you had to do was yield to me, but you were too . . . damned . . . stubborn. And now my future, the hope of Russia, some of my best men, your own worthless life, and even your precious Lord Alec, all of us done for. All . . . dead.”

“Not quite, Kurkov.”

Becky drew in her breath; Mikhail turned with a grunt of astonishment to find Alec alive, coming cautiously out of the woods.

“My lady at this moment is wishing, I think, for a candlesnuffer to aim at your head, Highness. Unfortunately, all I’ve got is a pistol.” Alec brought the gun up and leveled it between Mikhail’s eyes. “Becky, sweet,” he said softly, “turn away.”

He cocked the gun. Becky obeyed, but just before she did, she saw Mikhail lift his chin in steely arrogance, bracing himself for the bullet.

“
Dosvi'daniya,
Highness.”

Click.

Nothing happened.
No bullet!
Becky gasped and peeked through her fingers as Alec scowled.

“Bloody hell.”

Mikhail let out a gloating laugh.
“En garde,”
he growled, then swiped at Alec with a massive chop of his blade.

Their battle exploded.

Becky got out of the way, keeping her distance from the cliff’s edge, but she could hardly bear to watch the shattering blows they exchanged, both men hacking at each other with relentless speed and savagery. The climbing sun flashed on their swords, which whirled and churned and twisted like the revolving blades of some razor-sharp metal windmill. The harsh rasp of both men’s labored breathing filled the air, Mikhail’s brute power matched with Alec’s precision, speed, and agility.

The moments stretched like years while the surf went on endlessly pounding the rocks below.

Jump and heave, topple and lunge, they dueled back and forth across the promontory, their spurs tearing into soft green turf and laying bare the soil beneath. With a sudden leaping thrust, Mikhail attacked; Becky gasped; Alec let out a swift, furious yell as the blade pierced his left shoulder—the same side that had been wounded barely a month ago.

“Son of a bitch!” he spat as he backed away to regroup.

Mikhail wiped the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve and smiled.

Becky, on the verge of panic, gazed at Alec. Having already spent a good deal of his strength fighting the Cossacks, now he was hurt and Mikhail was not. When he glanced down at his wound, which was bleeding freely, it crossed her mind to go running back up to the cottage to find some bullets for that empty pistol, just in case, but before she could move, Alec lifted his head again, his stare homing in on Mikhail. As Becky watched, a subtle transformation came over his face, as though he reached deeply into himself to summon forth some terrible new strength.

He shrugged off the wound and swept his sword up gracefully into a salute, upright before his face. Then he lowered it to an angle aimed at Mikhail’s heart. And he advanced.

Staring at him, Becky did not know where the fury had come from that he now unleashed, but Mikhail was no match for it. Driving him back with a relentless advance in perfect form, Alec slowly backed Mikhail to the cliff’s edge, parried a hit aimed at his throat, and then lunged, running Mikhail through with his deadly lightning-fast riposte, a snarl on his beautiful face. In that moment, with his blue eyes blazing and the golden sun burnishing his hair, he was a warrior archangel bent on casting down the demon from the edge of heaven.

Mikhail let out a throaty scream, dropped his weapon and gripped Alec’s blade. Alec gave him a shove; Mikhail threw himself sideways, trying to avoid going over the cliff, but he was too late. He was falling—

And then Becky screamed as Mikhail grabbed hold of Alec’s ankle on his way down, pulling his vanquisher down with him.

“No!”
She fled to the edge of the cliff.

Alec let out a bellow of pain as he caught himself on a rock about two feet over the edge. The wrench to his injured shoulder was surely agony, but at least he had staved off the fate that now claimed Mikhail.

Becky stared past Alec over the drop-off as her cousin went plunging downward, arms and legs flailing, to smash against the jagged rocks far, far below. She flinched when he hit, but in an instant she was lying on her stomach on the turf, reaching both hands down to Alec.

“Take hold!”

“Get back!” he gasped out.

“Alec, take my hand! I’ll pull you up!”

“You can’t. I’m too heavy.”

“Grab hold of me, Alec! I won’t let you fall!”

“It’s too dangerous. It’s my shoulder. Becky, I can’t pull myself up.”

“Don’t you let go! Alec, you’re slipping! Take my hand!”

“No—I’ll pull you down with me,” he panted.

“No, you won’t. Come on, sweeting. Reach out to me. I’m not letting you go!”

“I can’t. Becky,” he groaned. “I love you.”

“Oh, Alec, I love you, too.” Tears leaped into her eyes as she hung over the side of the cliff, reaching her hand out toward him. Her fingertips could nearly graze his bruised, cut knuckles.

“I love you,” he repeated through gritted teeth, “and don’t you ever forget it.”

“Then take my hand, Alec. Please. Let me pull you up.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“Yes, I am! Do it, damn you! Alec, I need you with me. Don’t you see that?” she wrenched out. “I don’t want to live without you! If you don’t let me help you, you’re going to fall.”

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, then flicked a grim glance over her face. Wetting his lips, he braced himself to try. “A-All right.” Wincing, he clung to the rock with his right arm and tentatively stretched out his left to her.

Her hair blowing in the updraft of wind rushing up the rock face, Becky inched closer to the edge and gripped his forearm with both hands, anchoring her toes in the turf. His fingers dug into her elbow. He let out an anguished growl as she pulled with all her might on his hurt arm.

“Come on! Don’t give up, Alec. Climb!” She felt herself slipping forward but refused to budge. Better that she should go over the cliff with him than lose her hold on him.

“I’m hurting you,” he panted, noting her grimace of pain.

“No, it’s just—your ring. It’s biting into my finger a little.”

“You’re still wearing it?” he panted in surprise, sweat pouring down his face.

“Of course I’m still wearing it. I never want to take it off! I told you nothing could ever change my love for you and I—meant it!” Gritting her teeth, she dragged him upward with a burst of wild strength that came from she knew not where.

Alec suddenly found a toehold in the rock face on which to brace himself.

“Steady . . .”

A bead of perspiration ran down Becky’s face; her back strained; her every muscle trembled. Alec exerted even greater effort.

“That’s it—you’ve got it . . .”

Rising slightly, inch by precarious inch, with Becky holding onto him for dear life, he was finally able to get his knee wedged atop the rock he had been clinging to.

With a sudden heave, he thrust himself up over the edge and pitched forward, landing on top of her.

They both just stayed like that, panting with exhaustion, but alive.

Safe.

At last.

Together.

“You all right?”

“Yes, you?”

He nodded, raising himself onto his elbows. He took her face between his hands and gazed down at her. “You just saved my life, you little hellion.”

Flat on her back beneath him in the soft grass, she had barely caught her breath as she wrapped her arms around him. “Then I guess we’re finally even.”

Without warning, Alec bent his head and kissed her, hard. His mouth slanted over hers in fierce, claiming need. Becky returned the passionate onslaught of his kisses eagerly, tightening her hold around his neck.

“Oh, God,” he breathed at length, resting his brow against her cheek. “I thought I’d lost you.” He smoothed her hair behind her ear with a hand that trembled, and then pressed a kiss to her brow. “Are you sure you’re all right? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m all right,” she assured him. “You came to my rescue in time. Just like I knew you would.”

“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have slipped that day in front of Eva. If I hadn’t used your real name, she would never have—”

“Shh,” Becky cut him off, laying her finger over his lips. “It’s over now. He’s gone, and you were magnificent. Besides,” she added as Alec kissed the finger with which she had silenced him, “I’m pretty hardy, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” he replied. “It’s one of your most adorable qualities. Becky,” he added, staring earnestly at her, “I love you.”

“Oh, Alec, I love you, too.” She gave him a tremulous smile and then hugged him. He sat up, taking her with him. They sat holding each other tight, on the edge of the cliff where they had picnicked all those weeks ago.

“What of Fort and Rush?”

“They’re going to be all right.”

“Oh, thank God. They fought so bravely, Alec, but there was nothing they could do.”

“I know.” He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Becky?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“I love you,” he murmured, again, almost inaudibly. Now that he had made up his mind to tell her so, he couldn’t seem to stop saying it. “I never thought I could love anyone like this.” Though he sounded shaken by the force of his emotion, there was an indefinable note in his voice that she had never heard before, a new ring of solid steel that had been forged in him by all of this. “I’m going to take such good care of you,” he whispered fiercely as he kissed her forehead. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. I hope you don’t mind.”

“That sounds grand.” She sniffled and pulled back from his embrace just far enough to look into his deep blue eyes, so filled with protectiveness and soulful longing. She caressed his face. “My Alec.”

He nodded mutely, pressing her palm over his heart.