The flat part of the handle struck her above the left eye as she looked at him, recognition replaced by fury and then, as she toppled to the porch with her dress hiked up over bare white legs, no expression at all but the slack mask of unconsciousness. Peter bent to feel for a pulse, certain he’d killed her, seeing the empty scabbard laced to her thigh now and thinking, Oh, no, even as Roger screamed, “Stay away from her,” and her eyes clicked open.
