Lady de Blois stared in disbelief, then spat out a string of obscenities.
“Drop it now.” She cocked the hammer, praying it wouldn’t trigger the music mechanism. “I won’t ask again.”
After an excruciating pause, the blade clattered to the floor.
“Now kick it away.”
“Devil-bitch,” uttered Lady de Blois, her face red with rage. But after a tiny hesitation, a swipe of her foot sent the razored steel skittering into the shadows.
Darting a glance at the doorway, Anna started to edge around the table. “Now kindly move back a step,” she said.
The comtesse did as she was told.
One, two…a half dozen strides and she would be free.
A rush of elation began to tingle through her limbs, and yet a tiny voice in her head reminded her of Devlin’s warning that Lady de Blois was dangerous as a viper.
She wrenched her eyes back just in time to see the comtesse whip out a small stiletto from her skirts and lunge.
Twisting away, she flung herself sideways and threw up an arm to block the vicious stab aimed at her heart. The blade sliced through her sleeve, and cut a gash through her flesh.
The pistol fell to the table.
Lady de Blois snatched it up and with a bark of triumph, took dead aim and pulled the trigger.
A tiny bird exploded from the barrel and began to spin and flap its tiny feathered wings.
Anna swallowed the half-crazed urge to laugh. As comtesse stared in mute shock, the trilling notes of a high-pitched birdsong began to flutter through the air.
Oh, Devlin was a genius—a maddeningly clever, winsome, infuriating genius.
And one who would soon be meeting his Maker if she didn’t quickly gather her wits and rush to his rescue.
She dashed for the door and slammed it shut just as Lady de Blois made a grab for her skirts. The key was still in the lock, and a quick turn shot the bolt into place.
Fists hammered against the paneled oak, punctuated by a howl.
No matter that the sounds were nearly as sweet to her ears as the twitter of the pistol, she wasted no time in savoring her victory. Spinning around, Anna flew for the darkened corridor.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Damn. Devlin cursed his stupidity. He had made the cardinal mistake of underestimating an enemy. And now Anna was going to pay for his mistake.
His blood curdled at the idea of her alone and at the mercy of the comtesse.
“I wonder that you can bear to take a viper to bed,” he said aloud. “But then, I suppose that two poisonous snakes twine together quite nicely.”
“Shut your mouth,” snarled Verdemont, drawing back the snout of the pistol and jamming it hard against his ribs.
That gave Devlin an idea—a rather far-fetched one, but he was running out of time.
“Or what?” he retorted. “You’ll sink your ugly fangs into my neck?”
This time, he anticipated the blow and jerked sideways just as the steel touched his side. The barrel skidded awkwardly and for an instant its aim wavered. A lashing kick staggered Verdemont just enough to break free of his grasp.
Grunting in pain, the vicomte smashed the butt of the weapon into Devlin’s temple.
Pain shot through his head but he managed to dodge a second blow and counter with a punch to the other man’s gut. Both of them fell to the floor in a welter of flailing arms and legs.