Free Moonlight Surrender (Moonlight Book 3) by Marie Ferrarella Page A

ran the risk of cutting him severely and doing far more harm than good.
    When she was certain that the men held Duncan down securely, Beth raised the knife.
    A prayer flashed through her mind.

Chapter Eight
    Perspiration, warm and sticky, slowly slid down a spine that was already damp as Beth gingerly placed the knife to the wound. Tension gripped her arm like the tightening jaws of an attacking wild boar. Her heart drummed in her ears. She watched Duncan’s nostrils flare as she probed, but he made not a sound, stirred not an inch beneath the men’s firm hold.
    She hated the fact that she was hurting him with each slow, painful turn of the knife. An apology burned in her throat, but she knew it would be an insult to him if she said it aloud.
    She felt nothing. The knife came in contact only with flesh. The ball had eaten its way more deeply into Duncan’s shoulder than she had first suspected. She had been afraid of this, afraid that once she started, more would be required of her than she was capable of providing. Beth held her breath and probed deeper.
    The flame grew in his arm, turning hot, then cold, then hot again. Duncan stared at the ceiling, searching for the words to dirty songs Samuel had taught him in his youth, trying vainly to cast his mind somewhere else. Someplace else.
    The words wouldn’t come. The pain seared through him like a thousand flaming arrows.
    Duncan felt his blood flowing. He knew it was staining his chest and the woman who was hovering over him, delving into his flesh. There was blood on her hands and on her clothes. His blood.
    That bound them.
    Duncan’s breath hitched in his throat, bursting to be set free in a lusty scream. He kept it prisoner, clenching his jaw so hard, he thought it would shatter at any moment as cleanly as a pitcher being thrown down on a floor made of stone.
    He lowered his eyes to watch her, his mind winking in and out, seeking a darker, cool place to be, one where there was nothing. By an act of sheer will, he managed to remain conscious. Sweat was gliding down her fore head, clinging to her lashes. The firelight shone there, making her glow until he thought she was not real, but only some figment of his imagination.
    A spirit.
    Where is it, dear God, where is it?
    The frantic question beat in her brain like a thunder ous tattoo. She couldn’t continue digging in his shoulder like this, but she had to get the ball out. It had to be here somewhere. The wound was not clean through.
    There was no noise in the huge bedroom. All held their breath, waiting, as they watched Beth’s hand move slowly, turning the blade in Duncan’s flesh. Those who knew how prayed.
    Time dripped, slowly, relentlessly, as if there was no beginning and no end.
    And then, Beth felt the tip of the knife hit something hard. She became aware that her lungs were aching, exploding. She released the breath she’d been unconsciously holding.
    It rushed out with her words of triumph and relief. “I found it.”
    She looked up quickly and saw that Duncan was watching her. His eyes burned into hers. For a moment, all her thoughts fled, save one.
    His life was hers to save.
    Quickly, she looked back to her task. “It won’t be long now,” she promised.
    “It’s already been too long,” he snapped from between clenched teeth.
    “I’m doing the best I can.”
    Biting down on her lower lip in empathy, Beth moved the knife swiftly. Within moments, the ball slid out in a river of red. Beth caught it and held the lead in her fin gertips. There was no way to describe the relief she felt.
    “There.” She sighed as she deposited the offending sphere of lead on the night stand. Then she raised her eyes to Jacob and Hank. “You can let him go now.” They were quick to release him.
    Tommy picked up the ball and stared at the tiny bit of metal in wonder. “Just this?” he asked, looking up at Samuel.
    “ ‘Just that’ can kill a man,” Samuel answered gruffly. Tommy flushed and set the metal