Page 88 of The No Good Irresistible Viscount Tipton
“Do you want to know rule two?” He stepped closer.
Inwardly she cringed at his approach; however, her expression was tranquil when she asked, “Why bother adding rules when rule one is so tidy?” Oz reached for her skirts. She yelped and pressed her back to the wall. “No!” she yelled, kicking at him to prevent him from grabbing her legs. She did not think she could bear it if he violated her.
“Hold still.”
Mindlessly she fought him. She managed to land a stunning blow to his stomach. Instead of holding him off, it impelled him to capture her. He seized her ankles and dragged her across the mattress. With both feet caught she kicked his arms and his chest. He grunted and staggered back a step. It was enough to make him release her right leg. She arched her back and drove it upward. Her heel connected with the underside of his chin. Oz’s head snapped back, and his arms flew up to steady his gait. It did not help. He collapsed like a fan. Devona rolled to her side, then pulled up to a sitting position. Oz was on his back. His eyes were closed.
Fighting off the increasing dizziness and nausea, she stood. Her swaying stride would not win any races, but she managed to get to the door. With her hands bound, escaping by horse was impossible. She would never be able to outrun Oz. The truth did not dishearten her. There was another option. She might be able to elude him by hiding in the woods. If she was patient, she could return to the house and find something to cut through the rope. He would have taken the horses by then, but it did not matter. She would crawl on all fours back to Rayne if that was her only choice.
Rough hands mercilessly speared her hair, locked, then jerked her backward. The pain dimmed her vision to the size of a nail’s head. His hand still gripping the back of her head, he rolled her into him so that her body pressed against his.
“Lady of fire,” he murmured. “I should have spared you and kept you for my own.”
Revulsion rose in her throat, but she swallowed it. Her very survival was at stake. “It is not t-too late, Oz.” She cried out in pain when he tightened his grip.
“I know you love that resurrected outcast, Devona. Save your breathy lies.”
In their brief struggle, she had managed to hurt Oz. A trickle of blood oozed at the corner of his mouth. She had also disturbed his well-crafted façade of a gentleman. His clothes were rumpled. There was a tear at the seam of his shirt and his cravat was in an unidentifiable tangle. Blood and dirt marred his usual immaculate appearance. Devona felt a fierce rush of satisfaction at the ruddy swelling under his chin where her foot had struck him. It wasn’t enough. Nothing but death could balance the misdeeds he had committed against her friends and family.
“I have yet to tell you about my rule two.” He pulled her close so that another breath closer their lips would touch.
Tears leaked passed her temples and into her hair. “I hate you.”
He continued as if he had not heard her violent declaration. “Rule two: when choosing the proper bait, do not stint on the presentation. There must be beauty, succulence to tease the palate, and value beyond price. Are you priceless to Tipton?”
Rayne had never failed her. She understood that now. They shared a similar type of loyalty and reckless spirit that would force him to find her, even if the cost was his life. Oz would not have him, she silently vowed. She had to find a way to stop Oz before he staked her out as bait.
Devona’s refusal to answer had angered Oz. He punished her by pressing a bruising kiss to her lips. The pressure he exerted on the swelling at the back of her head to keep her from turning away was too much for her. The peripheral blackness closed to a point of light, then winked out completely. She embraced the dreamless darkness.
