Adri_9780553589375_3p_all_r1.qxp
Kiss of Midnight
2/9/07
2:54 PM
Page 353
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353
Gabrielle felt a keen sense of hopelessness as Lucan retrieved an ammunition clip from the cabinet and shoved it into the pistol’s hollow grip. Nothing she said would stop him. She felt helpless, like she was trying to wrap her arms around a storm. She glanced away from him, her eyes straying back to the table where she sat, at the plates and silverware in front of her. She saw the unused knife lying there, the polished blade gleaming. She couldn’t hold him back with words, but there was something else. . . . She pushed back the long sleeve of her robe. Very calmly, with the same fearless resolve that had served her a hundred times before, Gabrielle picked up the knife and pressed the edge of it to the fleshy part of her forearm. A small pressure, the barest slice of the blade through her skin. She didn’t know which of Lucan’s senses responded first, but the roar he let loose when his head came up and he saw what she had done rattled every piece of furniture in the room. “Goddamn it—Gabrielle!” The blade flew out of her grasp and across the length of the bedroom, embedding to the hilt in the far wall. Lucan moved so fast she could hardly track him. One second he was standing several feet away at the foot of the bed, the next he had his large hand clamped down hard around her fingers, hauling her up to her feet. Blood rose from the thin line of her cut, juicy, deep crimson, trickling down her arm. Her hand was still caught in Lucan’s crushing grip. He towered over her, a wall of dark, seething fury. His chest was heaving, the nostrils flaring as his breath