One of the masked men lunged to the side, trying to dart into the woods. As Lucas’s sword flashed down to bar his way, another man moved his bare hand as if he was throwing something at Lucas. Journey couldn’t see what he held, but clear liquid glittered in the air.
Lucas ducked, but some of whatever it was must have hit him. Though nothing else had touched him, he let out a cry of surprise and pain.
Acid? Journey thought, horrified.
Instantly, four of the men attacked Lucas. While he was distracted fighting them, the other two vanished into the woods. Lucas’s sword moved too fast for Journey’s eyes to follow, flashing like a silver streak. The clash of steel rose up above the sound of the rushing waters. First one masked man, then another dropped his sword with a yelp. Both backed away, their sword arms hanging limp, clearly disabled.
Two men emerged from the woods behind Lucas.
“Behind you!” Journey yelled.
Lucas dropped down in a graceful lunge. A sword whistled over his head with barely an inch to spare. Lucas leaped toward the river, but two men moved to bar his way.
He struck out in a lightning thrust. One assassin fell into the river and was instantly carried away. Then the remaining three men attacked Lucas simultaneously. He spun, first parrying a sword cut to the head and then a thrust to the back, but the third man got through his guard. Lucas didn’t flinch or make a sound, but a wet dark stain appeared across the front of his tunic.
The remaining assassins closed in on him.
But Journey hadn’t been standing idle while Lucas fought. Even as she was watching the battle, terrified that he’d be killed on her behalf, she’d been prying at the loose stones of the waist-high guard wall of the bridge. The bridge was old, the mortar crumbling. Her nails broke and her fingers bled, but she finally managed to get one stone loose. It was a lump of granite as big as a brick.
Journey hurled the rock at the nearest enemy. It hit him square in the back, knocking him to his knees.
Then Lucas was left fighting the last two men. All three moved so fast that their swords were bright streaks in the air. She couldn’t tell if any of the attackers had been wounded; they all wore black. But another dark stain appeared on Lucas’s tunic, making Journey’s heart lurch. She couldn’t bear to take her eyes off the fight, as if he might be killed if she stopped watching over him. But as she watched, she felt around for another loose stone in the wall.
One of the enemies jumped back, then kicked sand into Lucas’s face. Lucas kept his guard up, but stumbled backward. While he was distracted, the man grabbed the enemy Journey had knocked down, dragging him to his feet, and fled into the woods with him. The rest of the assassins followed.
Journey listened to them retreating through the woods, leaves rustling and twigs snapping underfoot, until the sounds faded into the distance. Just like that, the assassins were gone. Lucas and Journey were alone.
Lucas turned to her. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” she said, though her voice shook. “But you’re not!”
“Oh...” Lucas glanced down at himself. Blood was soaking through his tunic, but he seemed more embarrassed than concerned. “I’m out of practice. It’s been five years since I last fought with a sword.”
He swayed where he stood. Journey ran to him and caught him by the shoulders. “Sit down.”
“No—”
“Yes. You’re about to collapse.”
“I’m not.” He straightened, lifting his chin in a lordly manner. Then his gaze softened, and she saw the delicate skin of his throat bob as he swallowed. “I can’t. Not yet. I have to get you to safety first.”
Journey had seen his charm and sensuality at the ball, and his courage and protective fierceness in the battle. Now she caught a glimpse of his vulnerability. It made her heart squeeze painfully.
“How about we both get to safety, huh?” she suggested. “Let’s walk across the bridge. We can knock on someone’s door and call for an ambulance.”
He dug in his heels when she
tried to tug him toward the bridge. “Those men were after you. I have to stay with you to protect you.”
She couldn’t believe that the prince had not only saved her life, but seemed intent on appointing himself her personal bodyguard. Maybe he was trying to make up for upsetting her at the ball.
“Thank you, but the police can protect me.” Until I catch a flight back to America, she thought, but that hurt too much to say aloud. “And you need a doctor.”
Lucas reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. Journey drew in a breath. The warmth of his touch tingled through her whole body, and the intensity of his gaze caught her like a butterfly in amber.
“Journey, I know I’ve seemed to be a man without honor,” he said. “But you’ve seen for yourself that I’ll put my body between you and danger. Will you trust me to take you to a place where you’ll be safe?”
His chiseled features were white and taut with pain, his tunic wet and dark all down the front. Whatever else he’d done, he’d come close to death for her.