“To live a lifetime.” Her voice broke.
His mouth clamped closed, his stare piercing her.
She tried to push herself away from the wall, but only managed to get herself slightly more upright. All moisture gone from her mouth, she had to force the words past her dry tongue. “Don’t do it.”
“I won’t kill him, Elle. But I will make it so he never touches you again.”
“I don’t give a damn what happens to Sangton.” The words hissed out of her mouth, callous. “But he’s not going to give you that same margin—Sangton will enjoy your death.”
Rune shook his head. “He’s not going to get a chance.”
No.
No. No. No.
All of the blood pounding in her head suddenly rushed to her stomach, swirling, storming, sending bile up her throat. Her fingers digging into the stone, she spun from him, the contents of her stomach upending. She doubled over, retching, just avoiding her skirts.
This couldn’t be happening again.
No.
Watching her world being destroyed in a deadly duel—once in her lifetime was enough. Fate couldn’t possibly have just delivered another one to her. It wasn’t fair. Couldn’t be real.
Tears full in her eyes, her fingers tore into the rough of the wall, her words tumbling together. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand what, that you think Sangton is better than me? Will kill me?”
“What I lost.” The words spat out even as her stomach still churned, threatening more retches. “It wasn’t just my husband’s blood on my hands that day—it was my blood.”
“Your blood?” His voice flipped to instant concern. “Elle, were you injured?”
“I was with child, Rune.” She tried to gasp for air through the sob suffocating her. “Raplan died in front of me—all his blood—and then it was my blood. He died and the babe died and it was so much blood. So much blood. I wasn’t strong enough to keep it. So much blood.”
The pain of it seized her body fully, every nerve torture under her skin. She’d gotten so good at escaping the pain, avoiding it at every turn, that she’d forgotten how quickly and viciously it could gut her. The world blurry around her, and she moved slightly upward, thinking to stand, to move away from him.
He knew now.
Knew what a failure she was. How weak she was.
Escape.
She needed to walk. Walk away until she couldn’t walk anymore, walk away from all of it, but then she doubled over again, a retch overtaking her with the reality of what was going to happen.
She was going to lose Rune in just the same way. Lose a part of her she could never get back. Another gaping chasm of a wound that would never be filled, never be healed.
She needed to walk away and she couldn’t even straighten herself enough to take a step.
“Elle.” The sudden warmth of Rune’s hand splayed onto her back, the touch conveying more than words could say. The way his fingers curled along her spine, comforting, like they were trying to steal all the pain out of her. Pain she never acknowledged, never let surface for how it would break her.
He was trying to take it away.
Not judging. Not pitying. Just there, minute after minute, willing to take anything she would let him.
Her gasping breaths eased, her lungs working properly once more.
His hand rubbed up along her spine until it rested on the base of her neck, his fingers dipping into her upsweep. “I’m taking you home.”
“And then?” Her words choked out.
“I have to prepare.”
She couldn’t pull herself upright, couldn’t move.
It was real.
Real and she was going to lose him.
Lose him when she’d just realized, in that instant, what she’d found in him.
Everything.
{ Chapter 19 }
“Why in the bloody hell did you follow me?” Rune strode across the field through the tall grasses toward her, his face a storm, his voice rumbling in exasperated anger.
Elle slid down from her saddle before he could reach her and slap her horse’s behind to send it galloping back to the dower house.
“You swore you would stay behind.”
She looked past him to the stable hand he’d enlisted in the wee hours to serve as his second. The boy, George—not even eighteen—moved toward Sangton’s second, nodding as the man talked to him in hushed tones. George looked nervously over his shoulder at Rune.
With her right hand gripping the reins so tight her knuckles were white, she widened her stance and set her feet solidly on the ground. Rune stopped in front of her, his body and ire filling everything she could see. She met his stare, her chin tilting up. “I lied. I was never going to stay behind, but I didn’t need you knowing that.”
A growl ripped from his throat.
She shifted to her right, angling her head so she could see the seconds talking. “Tell me that boy will talk some sense into you idiotic men. Tell me this will not happen.”
“The boy knows exactly what to say.”
Her gaze flew to him, her eyes slicing into him. “That this should end before it begins? For that is exactly what should be coming from his lips.”
“This is happening, Elle. There is no stopping it. But I know how painful this is for you and you need to leave.”
A scream started to bubble up her throat and she had to swallow it. She’d talked no sense into him last night. No sense into him this morning. She didn’t need to be saved from Sangton—she’d figure out a way to handle him. But there was no swaying Rune from this course. He was going to protect her and he had set a wall of stoic determination between them that she had no way to breach.
He was going through with this, no matter what.
As awful as it was for her to be there, she couldn’t abandon him and let him do this alone, with only the familiar face of George in the small crowd that had gathered.
She needed to be with him, no matter the outcome.
Turning around, she walked her mare over to a tree far from the other horses the spectators had brought and tied the reins to a low branch.
She spun back to him. He hadn’t moved from his spot, still glaring at her.
“I’ll be staying, Rune.” She walked back to him. “I may not be able to stop this, but I am bloody well going to be here. I’m not about to abandon you to Sangton and his jackals. His second, Lord Flatson is honorable, but the rest of them are horrendous.”
“I can take care of myself, Elle.”
“I never said you couldn’t.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “Never. This is for me. I’m staying so I know you aren’t alone.”
His gaze went to the sky, his head shaking. “Fine.” His look dropped to her, his copper-green eyes piercing. “Then you need to prepare yourself—there’s about to be two shots. Try not to turtle.”
“Turtle?”
“Yes. Turtle.” He grinned.
A grin so goofy and out of character—out of place in the current situation—that she couldn’t help but grin back at him. Her hand lifted, going onto his chest and tapping the hard line of his breastbone. “Not fair. This is serious, Rune.”
He shrugged, the grin not leaving his face.
She heaved a sigh. She needed to try one last time. “Don’t do this. You can still call it off.”
He grabbed the back of her hand on his chest. “This isn’t the same thing as what happened to Lord Raplan.”
Her fingers curled into the tuft of his white lawn shirt above his waistcoat, her throat closing on her. “Except that it is—you’ll be shot and die.”
“I’m not your dead husband.”
“You are—this is.” Her voice had pitched high, loud enough to send birds scattering from the tree behind them.
“It’s not.”
“You don’t know that, Rune. You don’t. You don’t know what is going to happen.”
“I do.” He leaned down and his eyes locked onto
her gaze as he set his forehead to hers, his voice low, steady. “One, I’m an excellent shot—and Sangton is an idiot who hopes his second will save him. But I’m not about to let that happen. Two, your husband didn’t love you. He wasn’t fighting for the right thing—to protect you. You and nothing else.”
“And you are?”
“I am.”
With those words he let go of her hand and turned, striding back onto the stretch of the field where the other men had gathered.
Had he just told her he loved her?
Stunned, her legs trembling, she watched him talk to the seconds in muted tones, his glare on Sangton. The men parted, stepping away from each other, and Rune stripped out of his coat and waistcoat, then bent over, near to disappearing behind the tall rushes.
He stood, a pistol in hand and he went to the middle of the flat ground, his glare skewering Sangton as he lined up behind him.
No. No, no, no, no.
This was happening too quickly. She needed more time. More time.
Paces, strides apart from each other. Four, five, six and she lost count, her breath stopping. The field blurring in front of her. Her world falling apart again. Time slowing, but so very fast.
Rune spun about, the raised pistol leading into his arm a solid line that didn’t waver. Strong. A granite god.
Crack. A shot snapped through the air and she staggered backward, blackness invading.
No. She needed to stay, needed to go to him, needed to be there.
Crack. A second shot and she was gone. Falling. Lost to the world.
~~~
She woke up with a gasp on her lips and her body jerking upward before she could even open her eyes.
Rune.
Where was he? What happened?
She scrambled, stumbling to her feet, searching the field in front of her.
Empty.
Empty of everything. Not a sign that anyone had just been there. Had she gone mad? Imagined this whole thing?
She twisted in a circle.
Her mare still tied to a tree. Only one other horse now.
Rune.
Rune sitting on the ground directly behind her, looking up at her with a half-cocked grin on his face.
Safe. Moving.
Why was he sitting?
She ran to him, skidding onto her knees in front of him, her hands frantic onto his face, his body, searching for blood, for a bullet hole. “What—what happened—are you injured—why are you just sitting here—did I hear two shots—where is everyone—”
“Stop, stop, Elle.” He grabbed her hands, pulling them from his body as he shifted to get his face in front of hers.
He didn’t say another word until she stilled, her eyes finding his.
“I’m sitting on the ground because I was waiting with your head in my lap for you to wake up.”
Her eyes closed with a long exhale, her head dropping as the terror from a moment ago ran raw through her body, slow to dissipate. “I turtled?”
He nodded. “You did.”
“How long?”
“An hour. A bit more.”
Her eyes opened wide to him. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” His left arm lifted. “A bullet grazed my arm, nothing more. Hardly enough blood to even cause a scab.”
She tore her gaze away from his face to look at his upper arm. Only the smallest tear in his white lawn shirt with a bandage tied underneath it. The tiniest splatter of red on the white cloth. Not even enough blood to ruin the shirt—a quick stitch and it would be fine.
“If that…” Her words choked off and she had to shake her head. “If that had been inches to the left, it would have been your heart.”
His right fingers lifted from the clamp on her hand to wrap along the side of her face. “But it wasn’t. I am fine.”
Her heart still wild in her chest, she sank onto her calves as she found his eyes again. “What happened? Did you kill him? Is the magistrate coming for you—it was a duel but if you killed him—”
“I didn’t kill him.”
An exhale choked out of her throat and she slightly doubled over. “Thank the heavens.”
“But I did shoot him.”
Her look whipped up to him. “Is he going to die?”
“Not likely. His friends took him off to the surgeon—that’s why the field is cleared.”
“Where did you hit him?”
Rune’s mouth closed into a tight line.
She grabbed his leg, shaking it. “Where did you hit him, Rune?”
“I castrated the bastard. I let him live. But it won’t be a life worth living.”
She recoiled, her hand going over her mouth.
She hadn’t fully understood it before, the savagery that had been in Rune’s eyes. The savagery that he was capable of. The darkness that he’d openly admitted was in him.
He’d wanted Sangton dead—hell, she’d wanted Sangton dead—but Rune had held back because she’d begged him to.
He’d held back, but served unto Sangton a fate quite possibly worse than death for a man like that. A fate the man deserved. Savage. But brutally appropriate.
Rune’s copper-green eyes turned into steel. “He hurt you, Elle. And he was going to do it again if I’d just taken a hand, a leg. Nothing would have stopped him except this—this was the crux of the matter. It was the only way I was going to let him live.”
Her hand slowly dropped from her mouth.
“He’s never going near you again, Elle. Never.”
She nodded, the shock of it rolling through her body. The vehemence within Rune’s voice shaking her soul.
She hadn’t mistaken his words before the duel.
He had done it to protect her. Her. Protect her for only one reason.
He loved her.
She lunged forward, her hands clasping along his face, her lips meeting his, raw and hungry. Wasting no time, she drew a leg over his lap, centering herself on top of his thighs.
No one had ever protected her like this—because of who she was. Her and her alone. Jules and Des were fiercely protective because she was family and, frankly, she sometimes needed protection from herself and her own stupid choices.
But no one had ever deemed her as something worthy enough to protect with life and limb. To cherish on her own merits. To accept everything she was. To love her for what she could offer.
Rune did.
And she needed him deep within her more than she ever had before.
Her hands ran down the front of his lawn shirt, ripping it up and off his body, then dipping to the fall front of his trousers.
With her lips still ravaging his mouth, her tongue warring with his, the cloth fell away from his shaft and her right hand went fully around it, stroking the hard length of it from base to tip, her thumb circling the smooth tight skin at the end.
His hands were already dragging the tangle of her skirts upward, finding bare skin, her thighs, her backside, and he lifted her, setting her onto the tip of his member without preamble.
He knew exactly what she needed and when she needed it.
She drove her body downward. He slid up into the slickness of her, her body already greedy for the length and width of him.
She lifted herself, her thighs clenching as she took her body to the edge of where he would leave her, then paused, pulling her mouth from his and looking down at him. At his copper-green eyes filled with lust, his lips slightly ajar and ready to attack, the cut of his jaw, a shadow of dark whisker dusting his skin—enough to make him rough, dangerous, to heighten every nerve when his mouth met her skin.
Sinking down along his cock, slow, her thighs shook—every inch of him she took in spinning the nerves in her body into frenzied delirium.
Her mouth stolen from him, he ripped her bodice downward, freeing both of her breasts to the air, and his lips clamped onto her left nipple, his teeth raking over the hard nub. It sent pangs of fire down through her belly and into her core, speeding her thrusts.
H
er fingers curled around the back of his head, digging into his hair, holding him hard to her as she plunged faster and faster along his shaft.
His hips lifted higher, giving her the exact friction she needed and she withdrew, dropping on him over and over, pulling and pushing her body with every stroke to the edge. His hands clasped about her hips, holding her to the rhythm that her body needed but was quickly losing control over for the tremble in her legs, the build of the torture deep within.
“Rune, higher.” Her head flew backward, all sense of time and place leaving her. “Higher.”
His grip on her hips held her suspended in air and he took over from below, driving upward into her hard and deep until she was writhing, spinning over the precipice that delivered her from hell to heaven.
Her body bucking, she came, her core clamping around him, a scream on her lips, and Rune flipped them, her back rolling onto the grasses and he continued his onslaught. Long and slick into her, each throb of her body around his cock drawing him deeper into her as the madness of agonized pleasure took over his face.
The torture was just the same for him, just as gut-clenching as it was for her. She saw it in him just as she felt it herself—her whole world about to explode, except for the person holding her to this earth. Rune.
His hooded eyes locked onto her face, watching the orgasm rolling over her features, and he shuddered, a growl from low in his chest filling the air around them as he drove deep into her. His shaft expanded, stretching her in impossible ways. Emptying everything he was into her.
And she wanted all of it. All of him.
He knew everything of her now, no more secrets, no more of her shame hidden from him.
And he hadn’t judged her to be weak, hadn’t shunned her for losing a babe. Not like she had judged herself. No, if anything, after he’d heard her words about losing the babe, he’d only been more determined to protect her from Sangton.
She wanted all of him. Every breath. Every word. Every look.
Even if she knew she shouldn’t—couldn’t—want what she could never bring herself to accept. The impulse was still there, to want to crawl inside of him and curl up and stay loved and cherished forever without the outside world ever breaking in.
The Soul of a Rogue (A Box of Draupnir Novel Book 3) Page 13