Page 117 of The Mistletoe Countess
Before he could process the possibilities, down swung his bride, gown billowing about her like a fast-approaching emerald umbrella. Her feet flung in one direction, her hair in another. There was nothing to be done but stare. His mind drew a blank.
She kicked Parks, knocked Celia down as the woman attempted to dodge Grace’s uncontrolled spinning, and then landed with full force right against his chest.
Frederick’s chair tilted backward and slammed against the floor with Grace and all her layers encapsulating him.
“Oh my goodness!” She pushed off him, slapping him in the nose as she did.
He nearly cried from the shock of pain.
“Frederick! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t aiming for you, I promise.” She grabbed his face in her palms. “I was hoping to hit Lady de Winter, but I’d never swung down on a rope before, you see, so I wasn’t quite sure of the trajectory.”
His brain and his vision failed to match. “What are you doing here?”
She paused, her brow crinkling. “Well, that’s a silly question.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, your ropes.” She reached into her skirts and brought out a pair of scissors. “I’m so glad I brought along the rope and these scissors, but since I have no practice with guns, Elliott kept those.”
“Elliott is here?” His throat barely worked out the question.
She cut at his bonds with her usual energy. “Did you really think I’d come to your rescue by myself?”
He raised a brow.
She sighed. “All right, I would’ve. But Elliott is such a gentleman, he insisted on accompanying me. I think he deserves a raise after this, Frederick.”
One of the ropes loosened as the scissors slit through, but not in time to free him completely before a shadow fell over them.
“Grace!”
She turned too late. Parks jerked her up by her arm and twisted the scissors from her grip. With a firm tug of her body eliciting a squeal of pain, Parks pinned Grace against him, opening the scissors and pressing a blade to her throat.
Frederick struggled against the loosening bonds as Celia rose from the ground—with some difficulty—and dusted off her skirt. “Well done, Parks.” She pushed back a strand of loose ebony hair from her forehead and raised her chin as she approached Grace, her smile not as quick to resurface as before. “We have all of our cards now, don’t we?”
Celia stepped up to Grace, her gaze trailing the younger woman from head to toe. “I suppose you think you’re clever and brave.”
His beautiful wife narrowed her eyes, blue gleaming like flint. She looked stunning. “Iamclever and brave. I don’t have to hide behind poisonous flowers and hired thugs.”
“But you see, dear.” Celia ran a fingernail down Grace’s cheek. “Your little exploit has done nothing but secure my plan. As long as I have you, your darling husband will give me whatever I want.”
A gunshot exploded from outside.
“I don’t need luck.” Grace grinned. “I have a valet.”
Grace’s theatrics worked long enough for Frederick to loosen his bonds. One more thread.
Celia pushed Parks’s hand away and placed her bony fingers around Grace’s throat, squeezing. “Oh, but if I can’t get what I want from Frederick Percy, I’ll make certain he loses what he loves most in the process.”
Grace’s eyes widened as Celia’s fingers increased pressure.
Everything within Frederick surged to attack. Breaking the last bind, he rushed toward Parks and Celia, managing to break her hold on his wife’s neck. His clever wife made use of his disruption to bring her heel down on Parks’s foot before twisting away in time for Frederick’s fist to make contact with the man’s face. Celia stumbled back, and Parks toppled to the floor. Within seconds, Frederick rendered him unconscious with a single blow.
Grace rolled out of the way as Frederick rushed to the attack. If she hadn’t been internally shaking from her near-death experience, she’d have done something fictionally ridiculous like brand him with her lips.
But common sense and a healthy dose of feminine rage prevailed. She pushed herself to a stand in time to see Celia rushing to escape.
The woman couldn’t run very fast in her fashionable outfit, but Grace’s riding skirt gave her legs freedom.
“You have nowhere to go,” Grace called. “The police are on their way here now.” She hoped. “And I can outrun you.” With certainty.
Lady Celia ran out the side door, Grace on her heels, and with a perfectly placed leap, Grace tackled Celia around the hips and they both slammed against the ground. Well, at least Celia broke Grace’s fall. From the sound of it, the Villainess de Winter had her breath knocked from her.
