Shifting her gaze to the fire, she continued in that flat tone, “He was so close, only a few feet away. He sprang at me, a sword in his hand. There was such bloodlust in his eyes, it was like looking into the face of a … a demon. Retreat was out of the question, for it would mean leading him back toward the children. I raised my pistol, but it misfired and then he knocked it out of my hand. He threw me to the ground and tried to push up my skirt. But he didn’t know … that I had a knife in my pocket. I … I cut his throat.”

On that last sentence, her voice wobbled. She buried her face in her hands, her body shuddering.

Hadrian hastened to wrap his arms around her slender form. Would that he could absorb her pain! Stroking the tautness of her back, he murmured consoling phrases that he’d have thought trite under any other circumstances. But there was simply nothing else to say that would cleanse her of the dreadful memory.

At the same time, fury gripped him that any man, let alone a British soldier, would dare to attack her—and Audrey. On his return to London, he’d have a few choice words with the War Secretary about the behavior of the troops toward civilians, women in particular.

Gradually, Natalie melted into him, her breath warm on his neck and her arms circling his waist. A powerful wave of tenderness replaced his anger. Though not a particularly religious man, he uttered a silent, heartfelt prayer of thanks that her life had been spared. That she could be here in this moment with him, safe within his embrace.

When she raised her head, he half expected another storm of tears. But her haunted gaze held only sadness. “Why did I survive and not Audrey?”

Torment vibrated in her voice, and he felt at a loss to assuage it. The truth, he suspected, was that Audrey had been a healer, not a fighter. Her genteel upbringing had proved a liability in time of crisis.

He brushed away a lock of sable hair from Natalie’s cheek. “Perhaps because you were armed and willing to fight back.”

She considered that a moment. “It’s a terrible thing to kill someone. I still have nightmares about the blood … and seeing the life fade from his eyes.”

“You did what you had to do,” Hadrian said with tender intensity. “He deserved to die.”

“That doesn’t make it any less gruesome. I was trapped beneath him for a time before I was able to free myself. Tonight, when Bert collapsed onto me, it all came rushing back. That’s why I … I fell apart.” She glanced away. “Forgive me, Hadrian, I never meant to involve you in my troubles.”

With a light clasp of her chin, he turned her face back toward him. “There’s no need to apologize.”

“But I’ve never in my life wept like that, not even after the massacre.”