She looked down as if unable to comprehend what had just happened, and then she went limp. Duncan’s blade was pulled forward briefly, and as he attempted to wrench it from Sylvia’s dying body, Roo lunged. His aim was off and his arm weak from his injury, but Duncan was overbalanced and exposed, and the point of Roo’s sword took him straight in the throat.
Duncan’s eyes suddenly widened, his astonishment a match for Sylvia’s. He stumbled backward and fell upon the bed, his head resting on one of his lover’s pillows as his hands went to his throat. Blood flowed from his neck, mouth, and nose and he gurgled as he sought to stem the flow with his hands.
Roo stood there, bleeding, in pain, and out of breath as he watched his cousin lying on Sylvia’s bed, his blood staining the satin sheets and pillows. After a moment, Duncan’s hands went limp, falling from his throat, and his head rolled around to the left, as if he was staring at Roo and Sylvia, and the life fled from his eyes.
Roo looked down at Sylvia, who lay at his feet, staring up with eyes as vacant as Duncan’s. The pounding on the door took on a steady, hard sound, and Roo knew they were using a table base or some other heavy object as a ram.
He stumbled over to the door and shouted, ‘Stand back!’
He unlatched the heavy iron latch and found three male servants, Samuel, a stablehand whose name Roo couldn’t recall, and the cook, all standing there with weapons. The cook held a kitchen cleaver, but the other two men carried swords.
Roo glared at the three and said, ‘Stand aside or die.’
Looking at the blood-spattered carnage behind the little man with the sword in his hand, the three servants moved back. Roo stepped into the hall.
Behind the three men waited the other servants, maids, cooks, gardeners, and the rest. Roo said, ‘Sylvia is dead.’
One of the maids gasped, while another smiled in obvious satisfaction.
Roo said, ‘There’s an army heading this way. It will be here sometime tomorrow. Grab what you can and run east. If you don’t, by this time tomorrow night you’ll be raped and dead or slaves. Now stand aside!’
No one hesitated. All turned and fled down the stairway.
Roo staggered down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom, he saw servants were busy stripping the house of easily transportable items. He thought of returning to Jacob’s study and killing the traitor, but he was too tired. It would take all his strength to return home. His wound wasn’t critical, but it could be serious if it wasn’t tended.
Staggering outside, he found his horse where he had left it tied. He put his sword in its sheath, and by force of will he climbed into the saddle. Pointing the horse toward the gate, he put heels to sides, and the animal cantered off, heading home.
Luis dressed Roo’s shoulder while Karli fussed about, holding a basin of water. ‘It’s not bad,’ said Luis. ‘The bone’s laid bare, but it’s all over the shoulder blade.’ He was sewing up the wound with a piece of silk thread and a needle from Karli’s sewing kit. ‘Very messy, but nothing permanent.’ As Roo flinched, he said, ‘Must hurt like hell, though.’
Roo, pale from blood loss and pain, said, ‘It does.’
‘Well, if an artery had been cut you’d be dead by now, so count yourself fortunate.’ He pulled tight the last stitch and motioned for a cloth, cleaning off the wound. ‘We’ll change the dressing twice a day and keep the wound clean. If it festers, you’ll be very sick.’
Both men had been trained in dressing wounds, so Roo knew he was in good hands. Helen Jacoby said, ‘I’m sorry about Duncan.’
Roo had told them Duncan and he had been jumped by bandits, fleeing before the invading army. He looked at Karli and decided he’d tell her the truth when everything was over, when his family was safe and he could ask her forgiveness. He might never love his wife, but now he knew that what he had with her was a great deal more solid than the illusion of love he had felt for Sylvia.
All the way home, his wound pulsing with every heartbeat, he had cursed himself for a fool. How could he think she loved him? He had never been loved in his life, save perhaps by Erik and the other men who had served with him across the sea, and that was the love of comrades. He had never known the love of women, just their embrace.
Twice he had found tears running down his face as he thought of the number of times he had dreamed of that murderous bitch being the mother of his children, and his anger at himself mounted.
And his trust of Duncan . . . How could he have been so blind? He had let the fact of blood ties and easy charm mislead him about the man’s true nature: he was lazy, self-serving, and conniving. He was a true Avery, Roo dedded.
Drinking the mug of water Helen gave him, Roo said, ‘Luis, if anything happens to me, I want you to run Avery and Son for Karli.’