Determined not to relinquish her advantage, Claire’s legs, fortunately, freed from the entangling skirts, coiled tightly around Harry’s sweaty hips. She pressed him down, buying herself precious seconds for another attempt. Summoning every ounce of strength, she stabbed again, this time with desperate force, and finally found her mark. As if in a grotesque mockery of passion, Harry convulsed before collapsing soundlessly, life seeping from the wound in his back. Blood spurted in diminishing spurts, staining the ground beneath them.