Page 78 of An Extraordinary Lord

He lowered the tip of the knife toward her belly.

An arm shot around his neck. The bicep flexed hard like steel as the man was yanked off her and flung against the wall so hard that the room shook from the impact. The air whooshed from his lungs.

Merritt pinned the man to the wall and shoved his knife blade under the man’s chin. Blood splatter covered Merritt’s bare chest and dripped down his thighs.

Yet the bloodied sight of him wasn’t nearly as terrifying as the look of sheer hatred that gripped his face.

“You won’t hurt her again, you bastard,” he seethed. “You won’t take her from me again.”

He pulled back his arm to slice the man’s throat—

“Merritt, no!” Veronica cried out. “We need him alive!”

He whipped his head toward her and stared at her as if he were staring at a ghost… No, she realized as icy fingers wrapped around her spine. Not at a ghost.At Joanna.He wasn’t with her; he was lost in his memories from five years ago. That horrible night had blended into this one for him, and she had blended into Joanna.

He shook his head hard, but when he glanced at her again, there was no recognition in his eyes.

The attacker shoved him back and slashed his knife. Merritt darted to the side to avoid the sharp blade.

The man raced from the room. His boots pounded hard on the steps as he fled from the house and out into the night.

Merritt started after him—

“No!” she called out, terrified of what would happen to him if he left.

He halted and looked over his shoulder at her. The murderous set of his face shuddered through her, strangling her throat in shock and preventing her from calling out to him again.

Then he ignored her and chased after the attacker in cold-blooded pursuit.

Veronica fought to catch back her breath and slowly crawled to her feet, leaning back against the wall for support. The iron poker fell from her hand and clanked against the floor. Six feet away lay a dead man.

She shook violently as her heart pounded out every second Merritt was gone. Her deep and labored breaths burned her lungs at the realization of why he’d chased after the attacker. Not to capture the man to interrogate him for answers but to kill him, to take revenge for this night the way he hadn’t been able to do five years ago.

You won’t hurt her again… You won’t take her from me again…Again.

He didn’t mean her.

Merritt reappeared in the doorway, dripping blood onto the rug and still clasping the knife in his hand. His face was set hard as stone, and his bare chest heaved with exertion.

“You killed him, then?” she breathed out, unable to find enough voice to even whisper.

He shamefully shook his head.

Thank God.She slumped back against the wall as the terror of losing him fled.

He dropped his knife and hurried to her. He ran his hands over her, not to comfort her, she knew, but to check for wounds. Finding none, he cupped her face between his blood-sticky hands and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I’m not hurt,” she told him, desperate to ease the turmoil pulsing from him. The same anguish roiled inside her. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.”

A rush of relief flooded from him so intensely that it seeped into her.

“And you?” She reached up to touch his brow and the deep cut there that trickled blood down his face. “Dear God…Merritt!” She dropped her gaze over his body and nearly cried out. So much blood! “Are you all right?”

He gave a curt nod and slipped his arms around her to draw her against him, heedless of the blood.

She buried her mouth against his shoulder and whispered against his hot skin, “You left me…”You left me to chase after a dead woman.

“He was going to kill you,” he justified simply.