“Stay where you are.” Camille waved the pistol at him. “You’ll never care about me the way I care about you.”
But Lucia heard the hope in Camille’s voice.
“That could change,” Alex said, his tone soft and convincing. Lucia shivered at how convincing he sounded. He took several steps closer, and even his movements were seductive. He was a man who knew how to use his charms.
“I don’t believe you,” Camille stammered.
“Don’t you? Time and again,” Alex said silkily, “I’ve been there for you, Camille. You know I’d do anything for you. Let’s start over. Put the gun down, and we’ll talk about this.”
Lucia watched the French woman’s hand tremble, causing the pistol to shake. Her eyes were locked on Alex, and Lucia could see how desperately she wanted to believe him.
But then she shook her head. “No. You must think me a fool. Besides, there’s still her.” She waved the pistol at Lucia, and Lucia swallowed her cry of fear.
“She means nothing to me. She’s like a sister to me. I have an obligation to Ethan to protect her. Nothing more.”
Camille frowned. “But I saw you with her this morning. Was that nothing?”
Alex shrugged. “She was convenient. What you and I have is deeper than that.”
Lucia inhaled at the sharp pain stabbing her heart at every word Alex spoke. He moved farther away from her and closer to Camille, was almost beside her now. Lucia told herself that Alex didn’t mean what he’d said to Camille. He was just trying to get the gun away, to save them, but the words ripped into her nonetheless. All her doubts and insecurities weighed on her. He’d never promised her anything, never declared his love. Was she just a convenient distraction? Did she mean anything more to him?
With Alex halfway across the room, Lucia wondered what her next step should be. Should she run? Stay still? Alex’s body was still in front of hers, giving her some protection from Camille, but how long before the woman stepped around him and turned the gun on her? The woman would not hesitate to pull the trigger.
“But how can you forgive me?” Camille was saying. Alex was still inching toward her, but she hadn’t lowered the pistol. “After all that I’ve done?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said.
Camille gazed at him, and her hope was a beacon setting her face aglow. Then it dimmed. “But you don’t know everything, cher. I was the one who revealed Henri’s identity and your own. That night in London when I came to see you? I went directly to De´charne´ to tell him you were at home.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Alex’s voice was calm and soothing. For a moment Lucia wondered if he had known.
“That’s not all.” Camille glanced at Lucia, and for some reason the woman’s look made her shiver. “I was the one who shot John.”
Lucia gasped, and no longer caring about the danger, took a step forward. “Why you—”
Alex silenced her with a look, then turned back to Camille. “Put the gun down, Camille.” The husky note was back in his voice. “Let’s go into my bedroom and talk.”
Camille began to lower the pistol, and Lucia realized in her place she would probably have done the same. A woman unaffected by Alex—his godlike appearance, his velvet voice—was made of ice. Alex was beside Camille now, and Lucia knew he would take the gun from her given one more moment. But as he stepped to the side, she glimpsed the hallway, and what she saw there sent a flash of pure terror through her. In the shadows, his face a skeletal mask of rage, was De´charne´. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. Slowly he raised his pistol, and before Lucia could think to scream, fired.
ALEX FLINCHED AND WAITED for the inevitable pain. How had he failed? Why had Camille fired? Then the blood poured from Camille’s open mouth, and she tumbled forward, sending her pistol skidding across the floor and spilling the sticky red liquid onto his shirt. He caught her, breaking her fall. Behind her, De´charne´ emerged from the shadows, his spent pistol discarded, replaced by a medieval sword.
“I never could abide the woman,” De´charne´ said pleasantly and nodded at Camille. “Never trust a woman. They are far too easily swayed by their emotions. Of course, considering the performance you just put on, who could blame her?” He inclined his head at Alex in acknowledgment.
Alex could only stare at him. In his arms, Camille gurgled, taking her last breaths, and behind him Lucia was backing away. More than anything, he wanted to look at Lucia, to be certain she was safe, but he didn’t dare take his eyes from De´charne´.
De´charne´ ran a finger along the blade of the sword. “In the end, she served her purpose. She led me to you.” De´charne´ executed a mock bow, waving his sword gallantly as he rose. The swish of the metal cut the air in front of Alex just as Camille exhaled. She did not breathe again, and Alex set her down gently. He had no time for grief or even to wonder how De´charne´ had found him. His eyes darted to where Camille’s pistol had fallen only a few feet away.
De´charne´ smiled, pulling another from his coat.
“How quick are you, Selbourne?” he said. “Do you think you have time to reach that pistol before I shoot Miss Dashing?”
Alex’s gaze darted to De´charne´, who pulled his lips back in a thin smile. “Oh, yes, I know who she is.” Alex froze. “What do you want, De´charne´? You have me now. Let her go.”
De´charne´ cackled, bones protruding sharply from his thin cheeks. “From the lover to the hero, is it? Well, why not play the part of the knight in shining armor? Step away from the pistol and we shall see your skill in sword fighting.”
Lucia retreated another step, and Alex looked for a distraction, anything to give Lucia time to get away. “You have the sword, De´charne´, not I,” he said.
“Miss Dashing, if you would be so kind?” De´charne´ pointed, and Alex turned to see a lone sword mounted on the wall behind his couch. Lucia was staring at him, trying to read his intentions. He nodded to her, and she went to the couch and reached for the sword.
