screamed. “Stop! Both of you—stop!”
Alexi glanced at her, the American still choking him. Montgomery used the moment to jerk his knee up at his groin. Alexi twisted quickly away from the blow, and as he did, Montgomery thrust him off, and scrambled aside. Both men leaped to their feet simultaneously, crouching, facing one another.
“I am going to kill you,” Alexi said.
Montgomery said, “I am going to marry her.”
Elysse choked. What had she done?
Alexi suddenly looked at Elysse, his eyes hard and furious. “Are you all right?” he demanded. But his gaze widened as it held hers. She knew her hair was a mess. She thought her lip was bleeding. His gaze slammed down her body and she cringed. She was fairly certain that her dress was askew, possibly torn, and covered with grass stains.
She backed up, panting. She would never be all right, ever again. How had she allowed Montgomery such liberties? What had she been thinking? Why had he turned into such a beast?
“Elysse!” Alexi cried.
Elysse met his gaze, and felt the tears begin in a flood. She wanted to rush into his arms. He had been right. Montgomery wasn’t a gentleman. He had touched her, kissed her, grossly violating her body. She choked and staggered to the wall, to cling to it or fall down.
“I would never hurt her,” Montgomery said harshly. “I would never hurt the woman I love.”
Alexi said softly, dangerously, “Did you think to seduce her to assure that marriage? Don’t you know I would kill you first?”
Montgomery looked at Elysse. “If I hurt you, I am sorry.”
She shook her head, hating him. More tears fell. She trembled, the urge to vomit sudden and intense. “That wasn’t a kiss,” she heard herself whisper. “You touched me.”
“You fucking bastard,” Alexi growled.
Montgomery smiled coldly. “Get lost, de Warenne. I will take care of Elysse now. She is merely a frightened virgin.”
“No!” Elysse cried, horrified at the idea of being left alone with him again. But Alexi was oddly silent—and she saw the knife in Montgomery’s right hand. She froze. It gleamed.
“Leave us,” Montgomery said. “I need to speak to Elysse alone. She needs to understand how a man can become so aroused that he loses all control.”
She felt even sicker now. She had been fooled by Montgomery’s charm, his declarations of love. A true gentleman—a man like Alexi—would never force himself on any woman.
“Leave the two of you? Like hell.” Alexi smiled dangerously. He began circling the American. Montgomery turned, so that the two men continued to face one another.
And Elysse knew her presence was forgotten by them both. This had to stop, she thought frantically, before someone was seriously hurt—or worse! Elysse cried, “Alexi, I am fine. No one is marrying anyone! Let’s go home! You can take me home now!” She heard how terrible she sounded, sobs choking her tone.
Alexi launched himself at Montgomery, reaching for his right wrist. Elysse screamed, afraid that the American would stab him with the knife. But the blow glanced off of Alexi’s shoulder, and Alexi seized his wrist. Both men now strained at one another, their expressions murderous, Montgomery wanting to get free so he could wield the knife and Alexi not daring to release him.
Suddenly Montgomery grunted and dropped the knife. Alexi dived for it. Montgomery dived for Alexi, tackling him from behind. Elysse screamed as both men became entangled, wrestling on the ground, making it impossible to see what was happening. She thought Alexi had the knife. She wasn’t certain. She prayed it would get kicked away from them both!
And suddenly the knife was skidding across the terrace and both men were diving for it. Alexi landed on top of the pilot, grunting, as he seized it. A loud, sickening crack sounded. And Montgomery went still beneath Alexi, cheek pressed against the stone terrace.
Suddenly neither man was moving.
Elysse froze. Alexi got onto his hands and knees, staring down at the American—and she saw that Montgomery’s eyes were wide-open, eerily so.
Elysse gasped in shock. Montgomery was dead?
Alexi slid off him slowly. As slowly, he looked up at her, the answer in his eyes.
Her own horror began.
Alexi looked back down at the pilot. “He’s dead.”
She cried out. “He can’t be!”
Alexi inhaled harshly. “He’s dead. He hit his head on the stone.”
William Montgomery had hit his head—William Montgomery was dead?
“Damn it,” Alexi gasped, trembling. He was fighting his emotions now.
And it hit her. This was her fault—wasn’t it?
Alexi looked up at her again. “Elysse,” he said thickly.
She began shaking her head, backing away. Then she seized her skirts and fled.
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