The Formidable Earl (Diamonds in the Rough #6) - Sophie Barnes Page 0,78

The noise had woken Ida.

“Stay there,” he warned as he pulled the door open and threw a punch straight at the intruder’s head.

The man dodged the blow and brought up his hand. Something long and shiny gleamed in the darkness before it came rushing toward him. Simon lurched back, the shift in the air so close to his chest informing him that he’d just missed a deadly attack from a blade.

Eyes focused on the dark form before him, Simon used every intuition he’d garnered through boxing to anticipate his opponent’s next move and stay out of harm’s way.

Dodging from side to side, he avoided three more attempts on his life while trying to build a strategy that would disarm the assailant. Behind him, in the bedroom, he was conscious of Ida moving about and prayed she’d stay out of the fight.

The blade came down once more, straight toward Simon’s throat this time. Stepping into the advance, Simon used his right forearm to block it while jabbing his opponent with his left fist. The punch landed squarely in the man’s belly, forcing him back along the landing.

The door to the servants’ stairs opened and Miranda gasped.

“Get back,” Simon shouted, still struggling to stop the tip of the blade from descending toward him. The door slammed shut, thank God. Simon punched the intruder once more, but the third time he tried it, the man grabbed his wrist.

They staggered. Simon tried to determine his position in relation to the stairs so he wouldn’t stumble and fall. Until an obstacle suddenly came out of nowhere, stopping the assailant’s retreat. Not a wall, but the railing that spanned the length of the landing. Simon panted for breath. If he lowered his arm, the villain would surely stab him, but if he kept pushing and the man fell, he would without doubt take Simon with him. His hand still grabbed Simon’s wrist.

“Who are you,” Simon gritted between clenched teeth while trying to hold his position. This close, he could see that the man’s face was covered so only his eyes showed. “Who told you to come here?”

The man’s eyes hardened with determination. He leaned back further, most likely trying to force Simon into an awkward position so he’d lose his footing. It worked. Simon’s center of gravity shifted and he felt the strength leave his arm. The blade grazed his neck, producing a sting. He wobbled and knew he would soon be falling unless he chose to act quickly.

Something shattered behind him, it sounded like glass, and then someone else was beside him. “No, Ida. Go back to the bedroom and lock the door. You mustn’t—”

“Shut up, Simon.”

A shout of pure pain filled the air as the eyes in front of him widened. The grip on Simon’s wrist loosened and vanished. Hands clutched Simon’s arms and pulled him back out of harm’s way. He reached out, tried to stop the attacker from falling over the railing, but it was too late. A thud let him know when the man hit the floor in the foyer.

Simon barreled down the stairs, half slipping and stumbling in his haste to reach his attacker. “Please be alive,” he murmured. Light flickered as an oil lamp was lit. “Please, please, please…”

A pair of empty eyes stared up at him. Blood pooled beneath the man’s head. The knife he’d been holding was lying some distance away near the wall.

“Christ.” Simon raised his gaze and stared up at Ida. Miranda stood beside her, the oil lamp she held raised high in the air. “He’s dead. We can’t question him.”

“I’m sorry, but I had to save you. If I hadn’t forced his hand away, he would have taken you down with him, or stabbed you, or…” Ida’s voice broke. “I couldn’t let him win.”

“Of course not.” Simon nodded. “You did the right thing.”

In her hand, she still held the oil lamp she’d used, the glass shade now broken after she’d smashed it. Simon could see the imprint it had made on the back of the intruder’s hand when she’d pushed the cut glass down into his flesh.

Crouching, Simon pulled back the black scarf covering the man’s face. “Bloody hell.”

“What is it?” Ida asked as she and Miranda descended the stairs.

He glanced at her in dismay. “It’s the same man who attacked you in the alley. I recognize him.”

Wide eyed with shock, Ida approached until she stood at Simon’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

Grimly, Simon started riffling through the man’s pockets in the hope of learning something