Hubert snorted in amusement. “Or what? You’ll stab me with that trinket?”
In a sudden move he knocked it aside with his forearm and grabbed her wrist, then stepped close, pressing her forcefully against the desk with his body while his free hand started to pull up her skirts.
He was alarmingly strong. Livvy wriggled like an eel and managed to yank her wrist free, but he grabbed the shoulder and the neck of her dress tore with an audible rip. With a shout offury, she slashed down with the letter opener and caught him in the meaty part of his thigh.
She tugged the blade free with a sickening pull, scarcely able to believe what she’d done. She’d never stabbed anyone before.
“Little bitch!” Hubert stumbled back and looked down at his leg in shock. “You stabbed me!”
Livvy didn’t stop to think. She shoved past him, racing for the door. His furious bellow followed her down the hallway.
“Get back here, girl!”
She didn’t grab her cloak; she tore open the front door and raced outside into the rain—right into the path of a huge black stallion standing in the driveway.
“Woah!”
The horse reared up on its back legs, its front hooves pawing at the air just inches from her head.
Olivia was too surprised to scream. She froze in her tracks as the rider controlled his mount with impressive skill. He tugged at the reins and remained in the saddle as the creature’s hooves thundered back to the ground.
Livvy’s heart pounded as she glanced up. A shiny black riding boot, a muscled thigh encased in buff breeches, gloved hands gripping the reins, and then, with a terrible sense of inevitability, the handsome face of Devlin Hamilton, His Grace the Duke of Dalkeith.
Daisy’s brother. The bane of Livvy’s life. The last man in England she wanted to see.
Except, perhaps, for Uncle Hubert.
It was a close call. Devlin, to his credit, had never tried to molest her.
He’d merely broken her heart.
Chapter Two
“Devlin!” Olivia gasped. “I mean, Your Grace,” she amended swiftly.
The familiarity had been instinctive, and she silently berated herself for the lapse. She hadn’t called him by his first name for years.
His dark brows drew together as he looked down at her. “What’s going on?”
“Get out of the way!” She tried to sidestep the horse’s head.
He moved the beast forward with a click of his tongue and a squeeze of his heels, easily blocking her escape. “Why? What’s happening? Where are you going?”
She growled in frustration. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Move! Or better still, give me your horse. Quick,please.” She hated having to beg, especially from him, but these were desperate times.
His brows rose in obvious scorn. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t ride Ares. He’d throw you the first chance he got.”
The front door banged on its hinges and Livvy winced as Hubert came limping down the steps, his face mottled with fury.Damnation.He was probably going to have her arrested forassault. She took a small step closer to Devlin, the lesser of two evils.
“Thief!” Hubert screeched, stabbing an accusing finger at her while he clutched his leg with his other hand.
Livvy glanced down; she was still holding the letter opener. The end glistened with an incriminating crimson sheen that matched the growing stain on Uncle Hubert’s breeches.
Devlin glanced at her fist, a glint of shock and amusement in his face. “Olivia Price, are you embarking on a life of crime?” His voice held a teasing note; he looked delighted at the prospect. He’d always been a devil, mocking her for her ‘boring’ propriety.
Hubert didn’t give her time to answer. “The little hellion stabbed me!”
Dev looked up, releasing Livvy from his mesmerizing stare, and his eyes narrowed as they settled on her uncle.
