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“You had no right!” Jo cried, and Mick laughed in her face.

“Prove it,” he said and leaned closer to her, his rotten breath wafting to her nose.

Ire rose in Jo until she couldn’t control it anymore. In a one split-second decision, she pushed Mick with all her might, and he tumbled back onto the floor.

Jo’s mouth fell open as she realized what she’d done, and then a laugh escaped her lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth and kept laughing, unable to help herself.

Mick sat on the floor, his eyes wide, his mouth open in shock. Then his gaze rose to hers, his brows furrowing. He slowly got off the floor and stalked toward her, his gaze menacing. “Oh, you find it amusing, don’t you?” His voice lowered and a bit of his Northern accent slipped through.

She raised her head and met his gaze. “I think it’s well-deserved.”

“Do you, now?” He grabbed her by the hair and tugged up, forcing Jo on her tiptoes.

“Let go, you lunatic!” Jo grabbed his arm with both her hands, trying to get him away from her, to no avail.

He brought his face terrifyingly close to hers. A bit closer and their noses would have touched. “I think you want me. Perhaps your friend Selena told you how good I am and you want your own taste.”

“Let go, or I’ll scream!”

Mick pushed her down, her knees scraping against the wooden floors. She grabbed at his arm for balance, digging her fingers into his skin. “You won’t be able to scream, darling,” he said as his other hand went to undo the falls of his breeches. “Your mouth will be full of my cock.”

“Let go of me!” Jo whimpered, twisting in his grasp and trying to push him off.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and blood rushed to her face as panic gripped her, making it difficult to breathe.

Suddenly Mick let go and in the next moment, he flew against the wall. Jo watched wide-eyed as he fell onto a box full of the props Jo used for house parties, successfully breaking it.

Jo tried to scramble to her feet, instead, she fell clumsily onto her bottom and crawled backward until she encountered the legs of her vanity table.

Tall, dark hessian boots appeared before her. They moved toward Mick and paused.

Jo didn’t dare raise her gaze.

“Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” the man growled.

Richard?

Jo raised her head and had to blink twice to believe what she was seeing.

Richard.

Mick scrambled up and rushed toward him, but Richard took him by the lapels of his coat and propelled him toward the other wall. Mick hit the wall with his face, and turned, his bloody mouth twisted in a sneer. Richard didn’t wait for the man to retaliate. He planted a fist in his face.

Blood rushed out of his nose, and Mick covered his face with his hands. “You bastard!” His voice was oddly nasal. “You’ll pay for it in court!”

“Me? A viscount? I very much doubt it,” Richard spat. He didn’t look winded. Neither did he look frightened of Mick’s threats.

Mick swayed, then looked at Jo and spat a mouthful of blood. “You shall both regret this!” he growled before walking away.

Jo still sat curled against her vanity table, shaking as Richard stepped toward her. His brows were furrowed, his nostrils flaring, his mouth set in a grim line. But as their eyes met, his gaze immediately softened.

He extended his arm, waiting patiently as Jo came to her senses.

She still shook as she placed both her hands in his one large one and he tugged her up.

“Are you hurt?” he barked. And even his rough question sounded like music to her ears.

Jo took an unsteady step before crashing into his arms.