A shame he had to alter his original plan for Agent Taylor’s demise. But this one provided almost as much pleasure and lent a certain irony for her to die within the walls of her own home. Just before the life drained from Agent Taylor’s eyes, she would grasp that he had achieved the final victory over her and her dead partner. No one got the best of Anders Gilmont. He played to win—at any cost.

After he exacted his revenge, he’d slip out of the castle as quietly as he had entered with no one the wiser.

Near the conservatory, Gilmont rounded a corner and ran into a maid.

She stepped back, her dark eyes full of suspicion. “Who are you?”

He could have lied, but he needed answers. And he wanted them now.

Edging forward, he smiled benignly. “I need information. Be a good girl and cooperate.”

The maid opened her mouth, exposing a gap between her front teeth.

“Scream and it’s the last sound you will ever make,” Gilmont hissed.

She snapped her mouth shut and goggled at him. The child couldn’t be much older than his own daughter—eighteen at best. No matter. Even though he didn’t care to, he had to stick her. She could describe him, and that would never do. Not if he wanted to win back his family once he’d dispatched Agent Taylor.

“Where is Lady Elise?” Gilmont stepped closer, his eyes on the throbbing pulse inside the hollow of her throat.

“I-I-I . . . Sh-she’s . . .” The girl swallowed convulsively.

“Where is she?” he asked pleasantly.

The girl’s eyes dilated. “Outside. Sh-she’s outside at the range.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Gilmont took another step toward her, his fingers touching the tip of the blade. He’d make it quick. No sense in letting her suffer.

Just shy of his reach, the maid squawked and dashed for the conservatory. “Help! Help! Someone, help me!” she shrieked, then screamed again, a high, curdling scream.

Gilmont charged after her. His feet flying over the tiled floor. He had to shut her up before she—

Two hefty men burst into the conservatory from the exterior door. One carried a shovel. Gilmont skidded to a halt.

The maid pointed at him. “He has a knife,” she screeched.

Gilmont took in the room’s numerous windows, the blocked doorway, and the men’s narrowed eyes. The man with the shovel raised the spade threateningly and advanced on him. Gilmont dove out the open window and landed in the hollies, losing his knife in the process. The conservatory’s door slammed back against the exterior wall and both men catapulted from within.