Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(100)

“Griffin.”

Looking up from Duffy’s still face, Justin saw Dominic Legare’s lean, wiry form in the doorway. Legare clasped a bloody sword in his hand. There were no mocking smiles on his sharp-featured face, nothing but deadly purpose in his eyes. He looked clean and unmarked, and invincible. Two other men came up behind Legare. Justin wondered if it had been the three of them against Duffy, if the other two had tormented and cornered him, then allowed Legare to deliver the death-thrust.

Aug leaped up, and Justin followed suit more slowly. His heartbeat was thrumming in his ears and he was swamped with a savage elation that was as pure an emotion as he’d ever felt. He wanted to kill, to spill Legare’s blood and dance in it. The roar of hatred drowned out the sound of the fire and the shell bursts. He felt capable of anything, any cruelty…He felt almost inhuman.

He saw it all reflected back at him from Legare’s eyes. My God, he thought, suddenly cold with panic, what’s the difference between us? The scarlet fog cleared away. He remembered Celia telling him she believed in him, clasping him in her arms and making him believe in the part of himself he thought had been lost long ago. It was because of her that he was not like Legare, and never could be. The thought of her steadied him.

As the torrent of desperate energy began to fade, he became aware of all the things he’d temporarily forgotten—his aching leg, the stabbing pain of his rib, and all the battered places on his body. It was good to remember. He had to fight within his limits instead of trying to push. His usual extension would be curtailed and he wouldn’t gamble on having much endurance left.

“Aug,” he said, gesturing to the pair behind Legare. “Keep those two outside. No one is to interfere. If they try anything—”

“Aye.”

Legare nodded to the two pirates, who moved aside. Justin guessed that they would try to rush Aug as soon as they had the chance. He didn’t think Aug would have trouble dealing with them.

Stepping into the main chamber of the fortification, Legare waited for Justin to follow. The space was small and enclosed, lit by torches and the weak sunlight that wavered through the doorway. From outside there came sudden battle cries and the clanging of swords. Legare kept his eyes on Justin. “It seems my men have decided to test Aug’s fighting skill,” he said.

Justin shrugged casually. ’They’ll keep him entertained for a while.” Before he finished the sentence, he lunged at Legare without warning. Legare parried easily and returned with a swift counterattack. Justin fought with grim concentration, finding that he could only accomplish his usually smooth riposte with an awkward hop on his bad leg. His rhythm was off.

Legare laughed contemptuously. “You pathetic fool. You’ve lost whatever ability you once had.” He disengaged with a sneer, as if the fight was not worth his effort.

Justin followed readily, attacking and then redoubling, putting Legare on the defensive. He made a feint and then sank the tip of the rapier into Legare’s shoulder. Legare leaped back, but there was a smear of blood on his shirt. Enraged, Legare pressed forward with forceful strokes. Justin held his ground, knowing his leg was not strong enough to support him under a long drive backward.

The blades crashed and slid together until the hilts nearly met. The men gritted their teeth and pushed in a pure test of strength. Justin threw Legare back with a mighty shove. Legare returned quickly. Suddenly they were in the midst of a long, unendurable exchange, parrying and lunging, each seeking to gain an advantage. It was too rapid for either of them to think; instinct alone guided the flashing swords. Somehow Justin broke through Legare’s guard. This time the wound he inflicted was a shallow jab in the side.

The expression on Legare’s face became demonic. He advanced with purposeful lunges, forcing Justin to hop back. Justin’s breath hissed through his teeth as he defended himself against the attack, and then he saw with a tingling shock that Legare’s face registered victory. At the same time he felt empty space underneath his heels. He was poised on the edge of a stairwell. Striving for balance, Justin slid down the first two or three steps and raised his sword just in time to parry a thrust.

They were startled by a deafening explosion as a shell hit the parapet and shook the entire structure. Thrown off balance, Justin tumbled backward down the stairs, rolling over and over until he hit bottom. The rapier clattered down a few steps and came to rest halfway down the stairwell, hopelessly out of his reach. Justin lay in the semi-darkness for a few seconds, looking dizzily up at the place he had fallen from. His mind registered the shape of Legare walking down the steps, closing the distance between them.

Justin forced himself to move, dragging himself up, crawling and stumbling into a shadowy passageway. He fell again. A mere two inches from his nose he saw a wire wrapped around a peg. He blinked and stared at the object. Panting, spitting the copper taste of blood from his mouth, he raised himself up and carefully avoided the wire, staggering deeper into the passage. He slid to the floor and leaned his back against the wall, waiting, gulping for breath, and cradling his arm against the knifelike pain in his side.

Legare paused in the entrance, staring into the concealing depths of the passage. There was no sound except for Justin’s broken gasps. “Captain Griffin,” Legare said scornfully. “What a fraud. To think I once considered you a threat. Killing you will be cheap sport indeed.”

Legare lifted his sword and walked into the passage. His boot struck the wire, and the spring gun swiveled.