She started for the door, but, as if she'd heard his silent plea, she halted before she passed the bed. She looked his way, then, hesitantly, drew nearer. And nearer.
Holding the candle aside so his face was screened by her body, she rested against the bed a foot away and studied his face anew. He fought to keep his lids steady; he could only just see her face. Her eyes were fathomless, her expression unreadable.
Then she released her grip on her shawl. Slowly, she reached out. With her fingertips she lightly traced his cheek.
Lucifer felt like he'd been branded-and he recognized the brand. He surged up on one elbow, seizing her wrist, transfixing her with a glare.
She gasped; the sound echoed through the room. The candlelight wavered wildly, then steadied. Eyes dilated, she stared at him.
He tightened his grip and held her gaze. "It was you."
Chapter 2
Contents – Prev | Next
Phyllida stared into eyes so vibrant a dark blue they were nearly black. She'd seen them earlier, but they'd been hazed with pain, unfocused; they'd been startling enough then. Now, focused mercilessly on hers, clear and brilliant as a dark sapphire, they stole her breath away.
She felt like she'd been the one hit by the halberd.
"You were there." His gaze held her trapped. "You were the first to reach me after the murderer hit me. You touched my face, just as you did then."
She kept her expression blank. Thoughts popped up, then sank, flotsam thrown up by her whirling mind. His fingers clamping about her wrist had shocked her; they'd locked before she could react. She twisted her arm, trying to ease from his hold; he tightened his grip enough for her to sense his strength and the futility of struggling.
She felt light-headed. She'd forgotten to breathe.