The Promise

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He trembled in exhaustion. Elysse had been accosted—assaulted. She had been struggling to get free of Montgomery, her skirts tangled around her thighs. The moment he’d seen them, he had felt her alarm, her fear and her panic.

He had instantly wanted to destroy the other man. And he’d gotten his wish.

He was no stranger to death. But killing savage American Indians or bloodthirsty Africans or equally barbaric pirates in self-defense was one thing. What had happened that night was an entirely different matter—one he was having a hell of a time comprehending.

Montgomery had been his shipmate, his pilot and his friend. He’d saved Alexi’s life. And he had just killed him….

It remained utterly incomprehensible.

The other men were in a similar state of disarray and filth. No one had spoken a word since leaving Limerick Harbor. In silence, they now followed Cliff through the vast kitchen, which was in darkness except for a small fire, down an equally dully lit hall to the library. Cliff did not bother to close the teakwood doors. He lit several gas lamps, instead.

Devlin walked over to the gilded bar cart and poured brandy from a decanter into four glasses, his face grim. He, too, was lost in thought. Alexi simply stared, watching him without really seeing him, his head aching as never before.