thought, oh God, please …
He loomed out of the darkness like a furious avenging angel.
She was thrust aside as the Prussian swung around to meet him.
"Get your back to the wall, " Dalmar shouted at her before lunging. Annabelle scooted to the side of the building and pressed herself against it.
Everything happened at once. Another form materialized from the shadows and attacked Dalmar from the rear. She cried out a warning. With the grace and speed of a cat, he circled, his sword arm slashing and parrying unerringly as he warded off the double attack.
From halfway up the stairs, an English voice hailed him. "Dalmar? It is you, you devil! I thought as much! Leave us poor blighters some of the action! " and one of the officers of the Horse Guards lightly vaulted over the railing and lookups position beside him.
"Mercer? Just like old times, isn ' t it? " said Dalmar without once breaking stride or deflecting the furious slash of his sword arm.
Shoulder to shoulder, they met the frenzied assault of the Prussians head on. Even from her obscure vantage point, Annabelle knew from the furious and frantic pace that no quarter would be asked or given. Never in her life had Annabelle been so close to such unbridled violence. For a horrified moment, she thought she was about to swoon away.
She saw one of the Prussians go down. As Dalmar deliberately wiped his bloodstained blade against the leg of his pantaloons, he calmly asked of the man called Mercer, "Need any help? "
"Don ' t you dare! " laughed the other man, and in one savage assault, he ran his adversary through without compunction.
Annabelle was shivering with terror. Only a sudden blooming of anger saved her from having a fit of the vapors. Damn if these men weren ' t enjoying themselves!
"Do me a favor, cover my back, " said Dalmar casually, and with a quick, searching glance at Annabelle ' s stunned expression, he gathered her closely to him. "I ' m conveying the lady to safety. "
"I ' ll be right behind you, " promised the other.
They crossed the courtyard unmolested. The incongruous note of the cascading waters of one of the fountains could be heard intermittently even above the noise of the pitched battle.
As they reached one of the doors, Mercer called out, "You ' re on your own. Here comes another! " and he turned away to meet the furious attack of a black-coated civilian.
The words vive l ' empereur! trembled on the air as Annabelle was pulled roughly through the door.
"A Bonapartist, " grunted Dalmar. " That ' s all we need. "
She felt him stiffen and heard the hiss of his breath before she saw the figure blocking their path.
"We ' re Engl ish. Let us pass, " said Dalmar.
In that moment, Annabelle ' s relief at having fled the combat zone died within her. It was an officer of the garde du corps who confronted them. In his hand he held a sword stained with blood. At his feet lay the body of a Prussian officer, his blade still grasped in one hand. In Annabelle ' s mind, the scene was made more grotesque by the shadows cast by the few lanterns which hung on the walls.
"Dalmar, " breathed the Frenchman on a note of mingled disbelief and triumph. "Last time we dueled with pistols. At that time I was compelled to concede that you were the better man. This time the choice of weapons is mine. "
Annabelle ' s hand was grasped, and a key was pressed into her palm. In an urgent undertone Dalmar said, "At the top of the stairs, you ' ll come to a door. This is the key to that door. Use it. " In a more normal tone, he addressed the Frenchman. "I ' m still the better man, Livry, whatever the choice of weapons. "
"Shall we put it to the test? " drawled the Frenchman, and as if to underscore his point, made several sweeping slashes with his sword high above his head. The sound was like the crack of a whip and just as terrifying. Annabelle flinched and he laughed softly, his eyes insolently sweeping over her disheveled figure. " En garde, Dalmar, and to the
He loomed out of the darkness like a furious avenging angel.
She was thrust aside as the Prussian swung around to meet him.
"Get your back to the wall, " Dalmar shouted at her before lunging. Annabelle scooted to the side of the building and pressed herself against it.
Everything happened at once. Another form materialized from the shadows and attacked Dalmar from the rear. She cried out a warning. With the grace and speed of a cat, he circled, his sword arm slashing and parrying unerringly as he warded off the double attack.
From halfway up the stairs, an English voice hailed him. "Dalmar? It is you, you devil! I thought as much! Leave us poor blighters some of the action! " and one of the officers of the Horse Guards lightly vaulted over the railing and lookups position beside him.
"Mercer? Just like old times, isn ' t it? " said Dalmar without once breaking stride or deflecting the furious slash of his sword arm.
Shoulder to shoulder, they met the frenzied assault of the Prussians head on. Even from her obscure vantage point, Annabelle knew from the furious and frantic pace that no quarter would be asked or given. Never in her life had Annabelle been so close to such unbridled violence. For a horrified moment, she thought she was about to swoon away.
She saw one of the Prussians go down. As Dalmar deliberately wiped his bloodstained blade against the leg of his pantaloons, he calmly asked of the man called Mercer, "Need any help? "
"Don ' t you dare! " laughed the other man, and in one savage assault, he ran his adversary through without compunction.
Annabelle was shivering with terror. Only a sudden blooming of anger saved her from having a fit of the vapors. Damn if these men weren ' t enjoying themselves!
"Do me a favor, cover my back, " said Dalmar casually, and with a quick, searching glance at Annabelle ' s stunned expression, he gathered her closely to him. "I ' m conveying the lady to safety. "
"I ' ll be right behind you, " promised the other.
They crossed the courtyard unmolested. The incongruous note of the cascading waters of one of the fountains could be heard intermittently even above the noise of the pitched battle.
As they reached one of the doors, Mercer called out, "You ' re on your own. Here comes another! " and he turned away to meet the furious attack of a black-coated civilian.
The words vive l ' empereur! trembled on the air as Annabelle was pulled roughly through the door.
"A Bonapartist, " grunted Dalmar. " That ' s all we need. "
She felt him stiffen and heard the hiss of his breath before she saw the figure blocking their path.
"We ' re Engl ish. Let us pass, " said Dalmar.
In that moment, Annabelle ' s relief at having fled the combat zone died within her. It was an officer of the garde du corps who confronted them. In his hand he held a sword stained with blood. At his feet lay the body of a Prussian officer, his blade still grasped in one hand. In Annabelle ' s mind, the scene was made more grotesque by the shadows cast by the few lanterns which hung on the walls.
"Dalmar, " breathed the Frenchman on a note of mingled disbelief and triumph. "Last time we dueled with pistols. At that time I was compelled to concede that you were the better man. This time the choice of weapons is mine. "
Annabelle ' s hand was grasped, and a key was pressed into her palm. In an urgent undertone Dalmar said, "At the top of the stairs, you ' ll come to a door. This is the key to that door. Use it. " In a more normal tone, he addressed the Frenchman. "I ' m still the better man, Livry, whatever the choice of weapons. "
"Shall we put it to the test? " drawled the Frenchman, and as if to underscore his point, made several sweeping slashes with his sword high above his head. The sound was like the crack of a whip and just as terrifying. Annabelle flinched and he laughed softly, his eyes insolently sweeping over her disheveled figure. " En garde, Dalmar, and to the
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