Page 12 of The Viscount's Diamond Bride
Ursula was not quick enough. She dodged, but he still managed to seize her by the shoulder, trying to pull her towards him. She heaved, trying to free herself but he held on tightly. The sound of tearing material filled the air, and Ursula finally managed to stumble away, gasping for breath.
Her capped sleeve had torn away entirely, leaving her shoulder bare. With a growl, Sir Roderick tossed the limp bit of satin away and advanced again.
The situation did not seem to be real. It couldnotbe real. Only ten minutes ago, Ursula had been finishing up a dance in the middle of London’s busiest ballroom, surrounded by noise and laughter andpeople. And now here she was, cornered by the vilest man in the world in the middle of a decorative forest.Alone.
“Desist, sir!” she gasped, breathless.
“I should save my breath, if I were you,” Sir Roderick snarled, and lunged at her again. This time, she was more prepared for the attack and ducked away. Even so, he was faster than she had anticipated, and his fingers closed around a clump of her hair.
Ursula found herself yanked unceremoniously backwards. She felt pins pop out from their place, chunks of hair fallingloose onto her neck. Abruptly, she was released, and staggered away, clapping a hand to her sore scalp.
Spinning around, she glared at Sir Roderick. He had a few long, dark tendrils drifting out from between his knuckles.
“You are the vilest monster in England,” Ursula seethed. “Tell me, what have I done to deserve this?”
Sir Roderick tossed the limp handful of hair away. “I shouldn’t worry your pretty head about that. Really, this business has nothing to do with you at all.”
He advanced, and she retreated.
“Time to bring our game to its finale, I daresay,” he muttered, half to himself.
Now or never,Ursula thought. If they were discovered, it would destroy her reputation, but the alternative did not bear thinking about. Sucking in her breath, she opened her mouth, ready to scream.
“Help! Help me…”
Sir Roderick crossed the space between them faster than she might have thought possible, clapping a hand over her mouth. His other hand cupped the back of her head, pressing her face against his palm. Both her nose and mouth were covered, and Ursula realised with a panicked jolt that she could not breathe.
“Enough of that, you little hussy,” he hissed. “You’re all the same, every last one of you. Now, I…”
Suddenly from the dense undergrowth, a gentleman quickly emerged, his eyes adjusting to the unexpected light.
“I heard a cry,” he said. “What is…? Good God!”
Ursula tore herself free of her attacker, staggering backwards. She was gasping for breath, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she must like a sight with her torn clothes, hair hanging in tangles over her face, flushed and dishevelled.
“Stay out of this,” Sir Roderick snarled. “Go back to the party.”
The man took a step forward. “I think not. What are you doing out here with this lady, sir?”
“None of your concern.”
“I disagree.”
Sir Roderick narrowed his eyes. Before Ursula could cry out a warning, he lunged forward, his fist shooting through the air.
The man dodged neatly and brought his left fist up and into the side of Sir Roderick’s face with a resoundingcrack.
Instantly, Sir Roderick collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut abruptly. He lay still, and silence descended. In the quiet, Ursula’s own breathing sounded shockingly loud.
“Is… Is he dead?” she quavered.
“I doubt it,” the man responded, shaking out his left hand. “Out cold, I should say. Madam, are you hurt?”
He turned towards her, taking a step forward, and before she could stop herself, Ursula flinched. At once, the man stopped, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said quietly. “Tell me, are you hurt?”
Then, in a flash, she recognized him.
