La Flamme (Historical Romance) by Constance O'Banyon Page A

hurried to him and gathered him into her arms. The child clung to her, sobbing for his mother, and not understanding why she no longer came to him.
    "There, there, dearest. Do not fret. Sabine is here for you."
    Richard curled up in his sister's arms, sighing contentedly. Each day he seemed to remind her more and more of their mother, with the same light-colored hair and blue eyes and the same sweet temperament. Sabine sat on the edge of his bed and hummed softly until his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep, his small hand clutching the front of her gown. Her eyes were filled with pity as she gazed down at him. Richard would never remember the love of their gentle mother, but she was determined to give him a mother's love.
    Laying him back onto the bed, she covered him and tiptoed to her own chamber.
    Thea went about the room, collecting discarded gowns and slippers and putting them away in the trunk at the foot of the bed. After the room was straightened to her satisfaction, she turned to Sabine. "You get into bed. You've carried the load for us all. Rest now."
    "I am fatigued," Sabine admitted.
    The old nurse wondered sadly what was to become of her charge. She couldn't remain in her father's home forever. Soon her husband would come for her. Then what would Lord Richard do with neither mother nor loving sister to help shape his growing years when he would develop as a man?
    The storm was intensifying and lightning illuminated the bedchamber. "I'll just get you something warm to drink, mayhap then you'll sleep," Thea said, lifting a candle and moving into the hallway and down the stairs on her way to the kitchen.
    Thea's footsteps were noiseless as she moved through the halls that she had walked for many years. When she passed Lord Woodbridge's study, she noticed that the door was ajar. Thinking that was odd, she reached to close it, but paused when she heard his lordship speaking angrily to someone.
    "He dares send an underling to escort my daughter to Wolfeton Keep? I'll not tolerate it! Return to your master and remind him our agreement was that my daughter would remain with us until she reached her sixteenth birthday. And even then, she will not leave unless Garreth Blackthorn comes for her himself."
    Thea heard scuffling and flattened herself into the shadows. Her hand was trembling so badly that she dropped the candle, thus casting the corridor into darkness. She heard a muffled cry and then someone brushed past her.
    She moved quickly into the study to find Lord Wood-bridge on the floor, the front of his doublet stained with blood!
    He attempted to rise, but fell back gasping in pain.
    "M'lord," Thea cried, grabbing his arm and trying to aid him to his feet. "What has happened?"
    Lord Woodbridge collapsed in a chair, a bloody hand clutching his chest. "Go to Sabine ... at once. Get her and my son to safety ... hasten! There is danger!"
    "But, M'lord—"
    "Do it now, woman! For reasons unknown to me ... Garreth Blackthorn has sent his men to do murder. I am trusting you ... to save my children. Impress upon my ... daughter that it is her duty to—" A cough rattled in his chest, and it was a moment before he could catch his breath. "It is her duty to keep Richard ... safe."
    Thea reached out to him. "I must first see to your wound M'lord."
    He shook his head. "There is no help for me . . . but my son must live. You are the only one I can . . . trust, Thea."
    Lord Woodbridge's face was devoid of color. Blood gushed from his chest with every beat of his heart.
    Thea knew that he had been mortally wounded—he could not live past a few moments. "M'lord," she asked urgently, "why would the duke—"
    "Go, Thea!" His voice came out in a gasp, and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. "Save my children! Do not let that monster ... get his hands on my . . . daughter."
    Spurred on by her love for the children, Thea obeyed, leaving the earl to his sad fate. Cautiously, she left the room and moved like a shadow toward