The Outrider - A Paranormal Regency Romance ONC 2022

Chapter 18

In which our heroine has quite enough of mylord's shenanigans

Demoral rose from his chair and glared at the opposing wall, as if afraid of facing Corinna. "I'm asking you to be reasonable. There's nowhere you can go, and I don't want this affair to be more unpleasant than it already is."

This was her chance. The green room not only looked out on the garden, it also featured more of those helpful potted palms, one of which was situated straight behind her back.

"I'm not sure how things can be any more unpleasant, my lord."

She reached behind herself, ripped off a piece of palm frond which she then crushed it in her hands.

He swung around to confront her. "Oh, you have no idea."

"Really? You don't scare me."

Demoral said something, but she blended him out and projected her skylles at the fountain.

She hadn't ever done that much hexing in one evening, and a worrying sluggishness clung to her powers. Nor was she at all convinced what she had in mind would work. But creativity had always been one of her strengths, and concern for her fate spurred her on.

She drew on the water, until its clear, cool essence rode on her skylles, straight into her soul. That done, she directed the hard-won power into a watering can she'd spotted on the windowsill.

Demoral had rounded the table and headed for her, a bright green light glittering in his eyes.

"I'm asking you again, are you agreeing to my terms?"

No matter what those might be, they would entail giving herself up, and she wasn't planning to do so just yet.

"No."

He came to a halt. Balled his fists. "Your behavior is most unreasonable, Miss Wolverstoke. If you think you can change my mind, think twice."

Levitation had never been her forte. Now, powered by fury and sheer need, an impossible task suddenly became easy.

The watering can lifted, wobbled through the air until it hovered over his lordship's head.

Cats hated water. Panthers were cats. At least, she had the element of surprise.

But that would give her a couple of seconds, no more.

Corinna bunched her muscles and snapped her fingers.

"What are you doing—argh." The latter must have been directed at the rush of water that went straight down the marquis's neck.

The marquis shrieked and clawed at his shirt, trying to shrug out of it.

Corinna didn't wait to see what else he might do. She was off like a shot, sprinting across the terrace and down the steps, into the garden. The light still spilling from the house helped her on the first part of her journey, but the closer she got to the woods, the more she had to slow down. The stich in her side didn't help. Her ball dress and slippers hadn't been designed for running.

From the house behind her drifted ominous shouts and the drumbeat of running and feet, so she whipped her legs into another sprint.

What would she do once she escaped? Without money or clothes, she wouldn't get far.

Where there's a will, there's a way.

Corinna reached the trees and came to a halt.

Prickly and dense, a thicket blocked her way. Many paths leading into the woods, but they weren't to be found here where she needed them.