To Desire a Devil (Legend of the Four Soldiers 4) - Page 209

He would, too. Reynaud showed no signs of halting, though the other man had long since ceased resisting.

“Reynaud,” she said. “Reynaud!”

He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving, his hands, bloody, hanging by his sides and the chains still dangling from his wrists.

Beatrice went to him and hesitantly touched his short, black hair. “Reynaud.”

He turned suddenly and laid his face against her stomach, his big hands grasping her hips. “He hurt you.”

“No,” she said, stroking his dear head, feeling his warmth beneath her palms. “No. The blood was his. The bullet must’ve hit him somewhere. I am not hurt.”

“I could not bear it,” he said against her. “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt.”

“I wasn’t,” she whispered. She took his hands, large and bruised, in hers and drew him up. “I’m whole and safe. You’ve rescued me.”

“No,” he said as he stood. “I am the one who is rescued. I was lost and broken, and you saved me.” He bent and whispered against her lips, “You have redeemed me.”

He pulled her close, and she came willingly, happily, into the arms of the man she loved.

And who loved her in return.

Chapter Twenty

At the princess’s words, the Goblin King threw back his head and laughed until his green hair waved all about his head. “You shall be a delightful addition to my menagerie, my dear.”

He held out his horny hand. Princess Serenity laid her own small white hand in the Goblin King’s palm. At that very moment, Longsword appeared at a dead run.

“Stop!” he cried when he saw them. “Stop this dreadful thing! I did not know what my wife meant to do, but when I woke in the dark and found her gone, I suspected the worst. I have run all this night to prevent this thing.”

“Ah,” sighed the Goblin King. “But you are still too late. The pact between your wife and I has already been agreed upon and sealed. There is naught you can do. She is forfeit to me. . . .”

—from Longsword

“What will happen to Lord Hasselthorpe?” Beatrice asked later—much later—that day. She sat at her dressing table in her chemise, brushing her hair.

She watched Reynaud in the mirror. He lounged on the bed, his banyan falling open to reveal his bare chest. He’d discarded shoes and stockings, but he still wore his breeches. She’d almost lost him today, and the horror was still close to the surface. If she’d had her way, she would’ve shadowed him all day, just to watch him breathe. But they’d had to part early this morning. Reynaud had been concerned with taking Lord Hasselthorpe to prison, and she’d made an exhausting journey back to London in the company of a distraught Lady Hasselthorpe. The poor woman had had no idea of her husband’s murderous character, and moreover it seemed that she’d truly loved the awful man. Beatrice had spent the ride trying to comfort her.

As a result of all this, she’d only been reunited with Reynaud shortly after dinner, when he’d embraced her hurriedly and excused himself to bathe. His hair was still damp from that bath, she could see, and she wanted to touch it, but she restrained herself, feeling unaccountably shy.

“He’ll be charged with treason and murder,” he said. “And when he’s found guilty, he’ll be hanged.”

“How awful for Lady Hasselthorpe.” Beatrice shivered a little, placing her brush carefully on the dressing table. “Did he really inform the French of your regiment’s movements solely to kill his brother?”

Reynaud shrugged, causing his banyan to fall farther open. “He was probably paid as well, but I think the main reason was so he could steal his brother’s title.”

“What a terrible man.”

“Indeed.”

Beatrice swiveled on her stool to look at him fully. “I never thanked you for what you did to help pass Mr. Wheaton’s bill.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied quietly. “The men the bill benefits are soldiers. My men. I should’ve been more interested in the bill all along, instead of worrying solely about myself.”

She stood, walking toward him. “You’d lost everything. There was a reason you were focused on what you needed to have again.”

“No.” He shook his head and looked away, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “I thought only of money and lands and my title. I didn’t consider what was truly important until it was almost too late.”

She felt her throat tighten. She climbed into the bed to sit beside him and trailed her fingers down his chest. “And what is that?”

Tags: Elizabeth Hoyt Legend of the Four Soldiers Romance
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