Dangerous by Julia Hawthorne Page A

lungs, and he sank to the cold stone floor.
    Eric spared him not even a glance. He stepped over the body as if it were just so much litter blocking his path.
    “Milady—”
    She shrank against Christian, and Eric abruptly halted. In his eyes, she saw nothing of her champion. The jovial blue had cooled to steel, flat and soulless. As he regarded her, his visage slowly warmed. The monster she’d glimpsed gave way to the fine, courageous man who’d emerged from the darkness and saved her once again.
    Bewildered by the transformation in his appearance, she could only stare at him. Seeming to sense her disquiet, he shifted his gaze to her brother.
    “Stay with her, Christian. I’ll deal with this.”
    Eric hefted the corpse onto his shoulder as if it were a sack of wheat headed for the grainary. He limped while he made his way down the corridor, and a chill swept over her as she watched him go. He’d killed his own brother to protect her.
    What sort of man did such a thing?
    ***
    With weary steps, Eric ascended the winding staircase. ’Twas long past the witching hour, and he welcomed the silence of the castle. While he’d dispatched his grisly duties, his thoughts had grown more tangled, until now they felt irreversibly knotted.
    Never would he forget the horror in Elisabeth’s eyes.
    The memory of it struck him like a physical blow, and he reached for the rail to steady himself. He had only to drag his leaden feet down the short corridor and collapse into his bed. Perhaps now he could sleep.
    As he rounded the last curve in the wall, he froze in mid-stride.
    Slowly, Elisabeth turned toward him. Alone in the dimly-lit corridor, she seemed a vision risen from the mist. The crimson gown swept the floor behind her, rising in graceful folds to the fitted bodice. The burnished richness of her hair cascaded to her waist in luxuriant curls.
    He could imagine no sight more enchanting than Elisabeth Redmond silhouetted in torchlight.
    Lust put a sharp edge on his tone. “What are you doing out here?”
    “Waiting for you,” she answered evenly. “Where have you been?”
    “I found a horse tethered outside the walls. I lashed Dumont to the saddle and sent the horse into the forest. No doubt, it will find its way home to be fed.”
    He’d thought it impossible for her to look any more horrified than she had earlier, but he’d been gravely mistaken.
    “The poor horse. Why would you do that?”
    “Beyond disposing of the body, I wished to send a message to the others.”
    “What message could they possibly receive?”
    Eric grimaced and fought for control of his rage. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than he already had. “Another attempt to take you will meet with the same result. Even mercenaries value their lives above gold.”
    “Dumont. That was his name.”
    “ Oui . Rafael Dumont.”
    She absorbed that in silence, pacing a few steps away. When she faced him, he steeled himself for the question he’d known she would ask him. “Was he truly your brother?”
    “No.”
    “A Templar?”
    Eric nodded, and her lips compressed into a harsh, disapproving line. “Have you any idea who he might have been working for?”
    “None. I had no idea he was in Scotland. I haven’t seen him in more than a year.”
    As he closed the distance between them, he saw the mark of Dumont’s blade on her slender throat. Without thinking, he tipped her jaw up toward the light. He traced the wound with his thumb, paused over the beat fluttering just beneath it.
    Her day dresses covered her from chin to toes, but the velvet gown flowed over skin softer than the finest silk. As he fingered the gold cording that trimmed the open neckline, her delicate shiver raced through his blood.
    “You’re safe from him, milady,” he said as he withdrew his hand. “He won’t harm you again.”
    Canting her head, she studied him with a grave expression. “You don’t regret killing someone you once considered a brother?”
    “He’d have