Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
I raised my arm and launched one shoe, then the other at him. “Stay away from me. I’m warning you.”
He easily ducked to avoid them. “You are warning me? You are nothing! A nobody!”
A large hand slid along the smooth surface of the mahogany banister as he closed the distance between us. The gold and black onyx Worthington family signet ring on his finger glinted in the low light.
Stumbling again over the long white silk and tulle skirts of my gown, I gathered the extra fabric in my fist and bolted down the hallway.
The painted, lifeless eyes of long-dead Worthington ancestors glared down at me, unimpressed with my panicked scrambling from door to door. The rattle of the brass antique knobs I frantically turned echoed through the unnatural stillness.
Locked. Every one of them.
The entire wing had been shut up for the season. The gala was on the other side of the house. The orchestra loud enough to swallow any cries for help.
My eyes watered from the unblinking stare I leveled at his menacing form when it appeared at the top of the stairs. Closer.
“Don’t worry, darling. Despite you disrupting my revenge plan, I will make your death relatively painless.”
Pressed against a shallow threshold, my breath screamed inside my lungs, each muscle held rigid with fear. “You don’t have to do this!”
“It’s not a matter of having to do it. I want to do it. It amuses me to think that in killing you, I’ll finally get at least a small measure of pleasure out of your useless body.”
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind this wasn’t an idle threat.
His white silk shirt was stark against the inky blackness of his tuxedo. How had he managed to blend in with the guests earlier and not be noticed? We had been watching so closely for him. How had someone not cried out in alarm at his presence?
He took two steps forward.
Leaving my meager hiding place, I slipped along the wall.
The length of the hallway separated us, and yet I swore I could feel his breath against my chilled skin.
His long fingers stroked his jaw. “Something tragic.” His lips lifted in a sneer. “Befitting the bride of a Worthington. Perhaps a fall off the cliffs?”
I swiped at the tear trailing down my cheek. “He’ll know it was you.”
“That will hardly matter when I kill him too.”
“Please…you don’t need to do this. I’ll call off the entire plan.”
His scathing gaze raked over my body from head to toe. “It’s too late for that. Everyone knows. They are expecting a wedding. I’m going to give them a funeral instead.”
With a cry, I turned and ran further down the hallway. It came to a dead-end at a second perpendicular hallway.
Despite the heavy carpet beneath our feet, his hurried footfalls were unmistakable.
Which way? Which way? I was not familiar enough with the estate to know which direction would lead to salvation and which to certain death.
I swung my head to the left, then to the right and nearly sobbed in relief. With only seconds to spare, I fled down the dark corridor toward an open doorway.
The walls of the small study on the other side of that doorway were covered in dimly lit glass cases filled with antique weapons. The proud collection of some forgotten Worthington patriarch.
Several handguns and two hunting shotguns lay on the stately carved oak desk in the center of the room. I remembered the gamekeeper saying he needed to finish oiling and cleaning the firearms before storing them.
If I could only reach—it was too late.
I barely crossed the threshold when his fingers caught the trailing hem of my wedding gown. Fisting the material, he yanked hard, throwing me off balance.
We both crashed to the floor.
I rose on my hands and knees and crawled toward the desk. My arm stretched out.
His fingers clawed at my hips, tearing at my dress.
I rolled onto my back and kicked out, catching his jaw with my bare heel.
His head snapped to the side from the impact. When he turned to fix his silver glare on me, he coughed, splattering small flecks of blood over me.
Using the back of his hand, he rubbed at the blood on his mouth, smearing it across his face to blend with his already bleeding cheek. “You’re going to pay for that, bitch.”
With a cry, I shimmied back and used the desk to pull myself up. There was just enough thin light to see each of the guns. I snatched up a revolver.
He staggered to his feet. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?”
After wiping my sweaty palm down the side of my dress, I readjusted my grip on the heavy handle. “If I have to.”
He slowly prowled around the desk, surveying the remaining guns.
I kept pace with his stride, always keeping out of arm’s reach, as we circled each other like wild beasts preparing to fight.