A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(80)
Author: Tessa Dare

By now Lark, Harriet, and Aunt Marmoset had joined in the shouting. “Stop! Both of you, stop! This is absurd.”

But apparently there were yet loftier heights of male absurdity, just begging to be explored. Both of them had moved to some place beyond logic or reason, where only male pride and bloodlust held sway.

Thorne plucked a quarterstaff from a rack. It was a long, wooden pole weighted at either end for the purpose of inflicting bone-crushing blows.

For his part, Evan now reached for a morning star—a heavy, spiked ball dangling at the end of a chain. He lifted the mace’s handle with two hands and began to swing the menacing projectile in circles over his head. It made a fearful whistling noise as it picked up speed.

Everyone stared at it, rapt. The image was transfixing—this instrument of death swinging faster and faster through its drunken orbit.

Evan’s face told her even he was wary of what he’d unleashed—and uncertain how to control or stop it. He shot Kate a bewildered look. His eyes seem to say, Did I truly do this? Fight your betrothed with javelins and broadswords and then lift a bloody medieval mace over my head and start swinging it recklessly about in a room full of people?

Yes, Evan. You truly did.

She was glad he’d finally come to his senses about this entire ridiculous battle.

But it was too late.

When he released that thing, it was going to fly fast and hard and wreak destruction in whatever direction it chose.

He said, in a very polite, calm, aristocratic voice, “I can’t hold it much longer, I’m afraid.”

“Katie,” Samuel barked. “Get down.”

All the ladies obeyed, diving into corners and taking cover under chairs. Kate ducked behind one of the discarded shields.

Thorne positioned himself as her human guard, lifting his quarterstaff in both hands and keeping his eye on the circling morning star. He looked like a cricketer, readying to bat—and in essence, he was. Brave, stupid man.

“Samuel, please! Just take cover!”

With a savage shout, Evan released his grip on the mace. Kate ducked instinctively, unable to watch any further.

She both heard and felt the horrific crash. The initial impact was sharp and jolting, then almost musical, with the plink and crack of shattered glass.

The ball must have found a window and taken its bloodthirsty spikes soaring out into the garden. She could not speak for the hedgehogs, but with luck, it would seem no people had been hurt.

Drawn by the sound of calamity, guests began pouring in from the ballroom. Several carried candles or lamps.

“What the devil’s going on here?” Lord Rycliff demanded.

A good question. Sucking in what seemed to be her first proper breath in an hour, Kate emerged and assessed the scene.

Evan remained standing, staring at the broken window. On his brow, blood oozed from a small razor-thin cut. Otherwise, he appeared unharmed.

As for Samuel . . .

Oh no. Her worst fears were realized. He wasn’t physically harmed, but mentally . . . His eyes were dilated. his nostrils flared. He wasn’t there. Just the same as with the melon siege, with one important difference.

This time he was armed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

As Kate watched in horror, Samuel tightened his grip on the quarterstaff. He held it in two hands, braced across his chest, parallel to the floor.

An inhuman growl originated somewhere low in his gut, building strength as it clawed its way up through his chest.

He was going to charge Evan. And dazed, unarmed, unwitting Evan wouldn’t have a chance.

“Samuel, no!” Kate dashed to intercept him, gripping the quarterstaff with both hands.

She made eye contact, hoping he’d know her.

It’s me. Come back.

Something flashed in his blue, unfocused gaze—but what it was, she couldn’t tell.

The primal growl building deep in his chest now erupted from his throat. With a hoarse cry he lifted the quarterstaff, swinging both weapon and Kate with violent force, slamming her against the nearest wall.

Several ladies screamed.

Kate couldn’t have screamed if she’d tried. The impact knocked all air from her lungs. For a moment she floated loose in her own body—robbed of sensation, of presence. She didn’t feel any pain—not yet. But she was certain it must be coming. An impact that strong must have broken her somewhere. Her spine, perhaps. A few ribs at the very least.

Then a dizzying rush of air entered her lungs. Her vision sharpened. She could breathe again, freely. The pain still hadn’t arrived.

After a moment’s reflection she understood why. He’d slammed her not against the flat wall, but into a niche. As the quarterstaff was much wider than the recessed alcove, the beams on either side had taken the impact. She was unharmed.

Unharmed, but shaken to her marrow.

If he’d thrown her mere inches to either side, the full force of the quarterstaff would have crashed into her rib cage—wounding her, surely. Killing her, possibly. But even in his darkest, most unthinking moment, Thorne had protected her from himself.

He’d saved her. Now she had to return the favor.

She ignored the room packed with onlookers. She ignored the quarterstaff holding her pinned into the narrow niche. She kept her gaze locked with his. He was far away, and she had to bring him home.

“It’s all right,” she said, speaking in the lowest, most soothing tone she could manage. “Samuel, it’s me. Katie. I’m unharmed, and so are you. You were having a disagreement with Lord Drewe here at Summerfield. But it’s over now. It’s all over. There’s no danger anymore.”

She caught a flicker of awareness in his eyes. He drew a sharp breath.

“Yes,” she encouraged him. “Yes, that’s it. Come back. Back to me. I love you.”

If only she could touch him, it might make all the difference. But the quarterstaff kept them apart.

“Let her go.” Evan appeared at Samuel’s side, pressing a blade to his throat and undoing all Kate’s efforts of the past minute.

“Evan, don’t. Please. You’ll make it worse.”

“Get the hell away from her,” he growled at Thorne.

“You don’t understand, Evan. He didn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me.” She ignored her cousin then and focused on Thorne again, staring deeply into his eyes. “Samuel, you must come back to me. Now. I need you here.”

That did it.

His breathing steadied and recognition smoothed the creases in his brow. His eyes focused—first on her face, then on the quarterstaff and their position against the wall.