Page 121 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“I doubt it.” The baronet scowled at his men. “You’re perfectly safe. Now take Amy downstairs. Mrs. Grace wants to get her ready.” He flashed the poor girl a deranged grin. “You’re going to be sold to the highest bidder, love, and he gets to do whatever he wants to you. Mrs. Grace has assembled a most interesting group tonight—men with some highly unusual tastes. I’m sure you’ll find it . . . eye-opening.”
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Lia called out as the men dragged the protesting Amy from the room.
The door slammed shut, leaving her alone with the most evil-minded man she’d ever met. When he locked the door and stowed the key in his waistcoat pocket, she had to bite down hard on her lip to steady herself.
“You ruined me, you silly bitch.” Prudhoe’s eyes blazed with hatred. “You and that bloody family of yours. Because of them, I must leave England.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m in debt, and some of it is to that devil, Steele. Your cousin,” he added with a snarl. “He’s called in all my markers. And Dominic Hunter has dripped poison into other ears. I’ve been booted from my clubs, hounded by creditors, and now I have no choice but to leave for the Continent.”
While he talked, Lia continued to inch her way around to the other side of the bed, a vague idea formulating in her head. “That’s certainly not Amy’s fault. You have no business taking out your vengeance on her.”
“If she’d done what I told her, none of this would have happened.” A spasm of fury pulled his face into an ugly grimace. “This is all her fault and I hope whoever buys her rips her apart.”
“You’re an absolute monster,” she said hotly. “And I hope my fiancé ripsyouapart.”
He snorted as he began to stroll around to her side of the bed. “Lendale will never know what happened to you. You’ll disappear like a wisp of smoke, soon forgotten. After all, you’re nothing but a whore, just like your mother.”
Lia didn’t waste energy refuting his assertions. She was too busy bracing herself for what would come next.
As soon as the baronet rounded the bedframe, he launched himself at her. Lia dodged to get around him, but he was surprisingly fast. He crashed into her and sent her flying into the bed. She sprawled half on and half off the mattress, scrambling for purchase. She blocked his attempt to pull her up onto the bed by letting her weight drag both of them down to the floorboards. Lia’s backside connected with a painful jolt that shot up her spine.
“Fine with me,” Prudhoe said, puffing like a dragon. “The floor it is.”
He hooked a fist into the front of her bodice and yanked. The fabric gave way with a loud rip. When he tried to come down on top of her, Lia wriggled partway under the high bedframe, forcing him to flop across her lower body.
“Stay still, goddamn it,” he growled.
When he wrapped his right hand around her neck and started to squeeze, Lia frantically thrashed. His erection pressed against her belly and his face loomed only inches away. His breath was hot and foul, his grin a rictus of cruelty.
Stretching her hand for it, her fingertips hit the chamber pot. She hooked the rim and dragged it until she had a firm grip on the handle. When Prudhoe pulled her out from under the bed and yanked up her skirts, her fear infused her with a desperate strength. She whipped the heavy pot at his head.
It connected with a sickening thud and his body went slack with surprise. When she gave a mighty heave and shoved him off, the baronet rolled to the side, groaning and cursing.
She needed to finish the job.
“You bitch,” Prudhoe choked out as he tried to sit up. “I’ll slit your goddamn throat.”
With a desperate burst of energy, she clawed her way onto the bed, rolled across it, and hit the floor running. She grabbed the rickety chair and dashed back to the baronet.
He’d pushed himself up onto his hands and knees as Lia swung the chair high and hammered it down on his shoulders. When he crashed back to the floor, she grabbed the heavy chamber pot and smashed it against the back of his head. It shattered into jagged pieces, spraying Amy’s vomit all over him.
With a whimper, he slumped and fell still.
Lia staggered backward and grabbed the bedpost for support, trying to calm her rebellious stomach and steady her racing heart. She pinched her nose and sucked in several deep breaths through her mouth, willing her body to settle. The baronet seemed to be out cold and probably no longer posed a threat, but she still had to escape and find help.
Gingerly, she nudged him with her foot, but he didn’t respond. She felt rather sick at the notion that she might have killed him, but she’d worry about that later.
She was steeling herself to turn him over and begin searching his pockets for the key when she heard footsteps pounding down the hall. “Lia, where are you?”
Jack’s voice jolted energy through her body, like a thousand blazing suns. “I’m here,” she cried, running to the door.
The doorknob rattled. “Stand back,” he ordered. “I’m going to kick it in.”
She barely had a chance to scuttle out of the way before the door half-flew off its hinges. Jack stood in the doorway, his waistcoat askew, his cravat half-ripped off, and his hair standing on end. He looked like a wild man, and Lia had never seen anything more wonderful in her life.
“Jack!” She threw herself into his arms.
