S9

The sight of him standing rigid at the top of the staircase with a bundle of soft blankets nestled close to his chest startled Darika. She blinked, her hands loose at her sides and her tongue tied in knots.

"I'm here to offer you my assistance in whatever matter troubles you," Darika said proudly.

"Get out of my house," Mr. Levesque demanded.

"But—"

"I said out."

Alin moved toward Darika, his eyes wide with warning. He casually motioned toward the open door but she ignored him. Nothing could break her dogged determination. He needed her help, but he didn't know it yet. If only he'd listen to reason.

"Please," she tried.

"Get out or I'll kill both of you."

"Now, wait one moment," Alin said gruffly. "There is no need for threats."

Mr. Levesque stepped off the landing, his hardened gazed fixed on Darika, who had stiffened, paralyzed by the look of pure hatred on his masked face. She'd never stared into such malice before. Normally, when it came to her mother, she'd been allowed to lower her gaze or bow her head in shame, but he held her, transfixed her beyond the ability to look away. What it was about him she didn't know, but she understood that he wasn't done with her—even if he wanted nothing to do with her or Alin.

"Please," she whispered. It frightened her to think of this man as being capable of killing, especially when the newborn fit so perfectly in his arms.

"What will it take for you to listen?" he seethed. "Are you simply incapable of listening to a damned word I've said? Is that it?"

"Do not come any closer," Alin warned.

Mr. Levesque stomped down the next two steps. "You will not order me around in my own damned home." His gaze flickered toward Alin before settling on Darika again. "What do you want from me, hmm? What else could you possibly take from me?"

"I merely wish to help," she answered softly, confused by his tone of voice and his unspeakable anger. No one, save her mother and a handful of harsh tutors who meant well, had ever raised their voices at her. In the very core of her being, she wanted to shrink away and hide. This was what she would never miss in the palace she'd called home.

"I'll kill you," he said, his voice low and barely controlled. "I'll kill you the way she attempted to kill me. Eye for a bloody eye, is that how she wanted it?"

"I don't understand."

Alin pushed Darika behind him before Mr. Levesque could respond. "Enough. You will not threaten her, is that understood, Mr. Levesque?" he asked tightly. She recognized his tone of voice, and a chill ran down her spine. Alin would no longer tolerate the twist in the conversation.

"Then I'll kill you first," Mr. Levesque answered as he reached the bottom of the staircase. His large hands trembled, his breath unsteady with rage. Not once did his gaze falter, and the longer he stared at Darika, the more uncomfortable she became standing in his home.

"I'll snap your neck," Alin replied, his hands clenched.

"No, no don't say such a horrific thing to him," Darika said frantically. "Alin, he's holding a child."

"Put the child down," Alin said as he stalked forward.

Darika darted forward and placed herself between the two of them. She placed one hand flat on Alin's chest, the other against Mr. Levesque's, and she stared from one reddened face to the next. The infant remained asleep and motionless in her father's protective arms.

"Don't hurt each other," she pleaded, keeping herself between the two civilized men turned savage beasts. Alin relaxed, but the man she had come to help pushed forward, staring at her with the most hateful expression imaginable. "Please, for goodness sake, I don't want to see anyone hurt. We only returned to help you."

Mr. Levesque's mouth twitched. "Like hell you did," he said through his teeth.

-o-

Deep inside Erik felt a sense of gratitude that Darika had stepped between him and Alin. With Sori still in his arms, he could not have done more than appear menacing, which he'd realized far too late wasn't enough. Alin Nadir may have looked more boyish than manly in the face, but he was trained to protect Darika, the daughter of a sultan—at least by name.

He glanced down at Sori, who remained fast asleep despite the commotion. Already he'd come too close and risked her life, but the moment he'd seen the two intruders in his home all he could think of was that he needed to reach the table in the foyer and the pistol hidden within the drawer. Its chamber was empty, but he hoped the sight of it would be enough to banish them from his home and life for good.

But what if it hadn't worked? What if Alin had drawn a knife? In one fluid motion, the giant could have skewered both him and Sori and left them for dead. He'd placed her in harm's way, a helpless infant not even a week old yet. He'd done the unforgivable. Suddenly he wanted to place her in her bassinet, far from his careless grasp. What sort of father confronted strangers—threatened strangers—with a baby in his arms? The realization was staggering.

"We…we heard," Darika said softly.

He stared at her, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. "Heard what?" he rudely demanded.

"We were walking down the street and we saw the young lady who works here. I don't know her name," she babbled.

"And?" he asked impatiently.

"And we overheard her saying that she needed to find a doctor." The girl stood on the tips of her toes, her gaze set on Sori. An overwhelming need to protect his daughter made him wrench to the side and cover the infant from gawking faces. They wouldn't look at her unless he allowed it.

"She insisted she could help," Alin said, glaring at Darika.

"I can," she replied. "I—I mean to say that I will do whatever is possible to help the child."

"She's fine," he mumbled, glancing back at the staircase. He wondered if this was what she wanted: To draw him away from Corinna's side, to leave his wife to die alone, stricken with fever and infection. "Leave. I must attend to my wife."

Darika gasped, her lips forming a wide, perfect O. "She's ill? She's the one who needs the doctor?"

"As if you didn't already know," he muttered.

"Of course I didn't know," she replied. "How would I?"

He looked at her sharply, a thousand reasons sprinting through his mind. Because you've searched and found me, because you're here and I have no idea what to do with you, because it's in your blood to acquire what your mother wanted from me…

"Leave," he said. He turned away, unable to look at her a moment longer. His past rested in her eyes, the terror of years gone by filled him when he heard her voice. How easy he had made it for her to kill all of them in their own home. Perhaps she'd paid Eleanor to leave the door wide open, but then, of course, why hadn't she already killed him? Perhaps she enjoyed the anticipation of the kill.

"What's wrong with her?" Darika inquired. "If I may ask," she added politely.

He hesitated, his gaze darting around the room. "Why in the hell would you care what's wrong with my wife?" he demanded. He fixed his gaze on Sori, on the only person in the room who could bring him a sense of joy and belonging.

"Because," she said quietly. "Because I'm a human being and I'm capable of feeling for others. Why wouldn't I care? If she needs attention—"

"What would you do for her?" he questioned, whipping around to face her.

"It depends on what's wrong with her." She shrugged. "Doesn't it?"

Desperation forced him to nod. He didn't know what to think or who to trust or mistrust. All that mattered was Corinna, whom he'd abandoned.

"She's…she's overly warm," he said, the familiar tide of helplessness inching closer. He stared at the girl, saw the obvious differences in her face that he hadn't noticed before. Her features were more rounded, her eyes sad, hinting at sympathy and kindness he'd never once noted in her mother's gaze. The veil she wore had been pulled aside, though he didn't know when, her jade eyes pale against the dark fabric framing her face.

"Fevered?" she questioned.

"Terribly."

"Can she take liquids? If you place a cup to her lips, will she drink it?"

He squeezed Sori to his chest, his sanity all but gone. He shouldn't have trusted either intruder in his home. If he'd had any sense at all, he would have left Sori with Corinna, found a loaded pistol upstairs or a sword in the wardrobe, and wounded or left them for dead. He wanted to kill them, needed to see her suffer as much as he had from torture.

But it wasn't her. It was her mother he wanted to kill, her mother he wanted to bind and lay outstretched on a table. Over the years he'd shivered at the thought of running a paint brush dipped in kerosene beneath her eye and along her lips. He'd envisioned the horror on her face, the absolute repugnance for the smell and the feel of the tiny hairs skimming along her flesh. An eye for an eye, he told himself.

These eyes were different.

"Mr. Levesque, is your wife able to drink?"

He looked away and shook his head. Eleanor had not yet found the doctor, and time was slipping away faster than he'd thought possible. For several heartbeats he stared at Darika, wanted to look through her and find the truth, the heart of her that he imagined was as shriveled and insignificant as her mother's. Instead he found genuine concern or a damned good actress playing the part of an innocent, angelic young woman. Perhaps because he was exhausted, or perhaps because he wanted to believe her, he accepted her concern as real, not contrived and predetermined for his demise.

"No, she is not able to drink anything." He blinked back the rush of tears that filled his eyes and hated himself for the unwanted emotion. He wanted to appear gruff and untouchable, a man lacking emotion when others were present, but he was too afraid of losing Corinna.

Darika nodded sympathetically, her face dark with concern.

"She won't wake up," he continued, swiftly turning away from them both.

Voicing the truth aloud left him weeping. Without bothering to see if they followed him, he walked away and returned to Corinna's side.