Coulter, Catherine. Rosehaven / Catherine Coulter.

Beamis was yelling at Hastings to back off, to get away from de Luci, but she couldn’t. Both of them were locked together now, even as the knife came down closer and closer to his chest.

Suddenly, she felt the point ease through the cloth of his tunic. So easily it slid in, but it didn’t slow him. He was yelling, his spittle flying into her face, raging at what she had cost him, and now she had stabbed him and surely she would die for it.

Suddenly, she felt something grab her ankle. Her eyes flicked over the side of the cliff and what she saw astonished her. But de Luci grabbed her, jerking her close, and she knew she would die. She shoved the knife deeper into his chest. He jerked back with the agony of it, screaming, and reeled off the edge of the cliff. At the last moment, he grabbed her, pulling her, and she knew she had no purchase. She yelled Severin’s name even as sh^vejjt over.

Severin watched as de Luci and his wife, locked in a death embrace, disappeared over the cliff.

“No!”

De Luci’s few men had thrown down their weapons. But it didn’t matter. Beamis was enraged. The four men were dead in but moments.

“No!”

Severin flung himself off his war-horse’s back and ran to the cliff edge. He knew what he would see. He would see Hastings still locked against de Luci, both of them crushed on the rocks below.

But he saw only de Luci. She must be beneath him, the whoreson had her pinned beneath him. Severin could tell that his neck was broken.

Severin was panting, heaving with the agony of it, searching frantically for a path down to the beach and rocks below.

“Severin.”

He shook his head back and forth, back and forth. No, it couldn’t be true. Dear Jesus, he could hear her calling to him, but she was dead, locked beneath that madman. He felt shock pulling at his brain, felt helpless rage pouring through him like a wound that would bleed his very life away.

“Severin.”

No, he was leaving himself now, going toward her, hearing her, wanting just to see her once more, just hold her once more.

“Severinl”

“My lord, it’s Hastings! By Saint Anthony’s blessings, it’s Hastings!”

Severin threw himself on his belly, leaning out over the cliff as far as he could without falling. He couldn’t believe what he saw. A ledge jutted out some three feet below him. On the ledge Marjorie was stretched out her full length, her feet hooked beneath a narrow overhang. Eloise knelt beside her. They were both clinging to Hastings’s arms as she dangled off the ledge.

“Severin,” Marjorie shouted, “we aren’t strong enough to pull her up! You must help us.”

Within moments, men were holding a rope tied securely beneath Severin’s arms. They lowered him until he was on the ledge. He grabbed Hastings’s arms and dragged her up.

“You’re alive,” he whispered again and again in her dirty hair. “I couldn’t have borne it if that whoreson had killed you. I’m going to strangle you when I get you home. I love you. At the very least I will beat you. You deserve that, Hastings. You deserve your last punishment that I never meted out to you either afternoon in the forest. By all that’s holy, I love you.”

“And I you,” she whispered against his neck. She raised her eyes and he saw the blank shock in them. He stroked his large hands up and down her back even as she said in a singsong voice, “I killed him, Severin. I

stuck my knife in his chest.” She looked over at Marjorie, who was on her hands and knees, breathing heavily. “Then something grabbed my ankle. I looked down and saw Marjorie on the ledge. She was trying to pull me over to save me. I shoved the knife deeper into his chest and he went over, but he grabbed me and I couldn’t pull away. When I struck the ledge, I rolled off, but both Marjorie and Eloise grabbed my arms and held me. She and Eloise saved me.”

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