She’d asked for one more lesson and gotten it. She wouldn’t fail tonight.
On a fortifying wave of pique, she pushed off the wall and out of the shadows, her feet beating a quick tattoo across cobblestones. Within seconds, she stood before the unobtrusive door, long pin in hand and no idea how to use it. The worddoltsprang to mind.
A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead to the tip of her nose. She swiped it away with the back of her hand and squatted to better inspect the challenge before her. She inserted the pin into the keyhole and jiggled it to no great effect. On a huff of frustration, she removed the pin and thought for a moment. She needed to slow down.
Bit by hesitant bit, she reinserted the pin and listened . . . and felt. Again, it struck unrelenting iron. This time, however, her steady hand guided the pin across the unforgiving surface until the tip found a tiny hole and slipped inside. Gently, she pressed forward as she turned the door handle. Like a miracle, the lock gave way and the door creaked open.
From her stooped position, she hobbled inside and pressed back against the door until it closed behind her on a soft click. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she sucked in a relieved breath. The sudden dissonance of hands clapping broke through her relief. Her eyes startled open, and she shot to a stand. Directly across the room stood Nick.
“Why you’re a right rum kate, if ever I saw one,” he said, a smirk curving his lips.
Annoyance at this man struck Mariana at every angle, from his smug expression to his patronizing words. Yet . . . She also couldn’t help feeling gratified. In the cant language, he’d just called her a clever picklock. Four days ago, she wouldn’t have known what those words meant, much less have felt flattered by them.
Discomfited by the thought, she cleared her throat and shifted on her feet. “Tonight’s lesson?”
“Breaking and entering. You, darling, are a natural.”
Even as she chafed against his condescendingdarling, she experienced a surge of pleasure at the compliment. She was forever at odds with herself when it came to Nick.
She glanced around at the hundreds of tiny drawers lining the walls from floor to ceiling.
“What is this place? An apothecary?”
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. The familiar quicksilver smile flashed across his face, and a corresponding jolt of excitement streaked through her. She couldn’t help it. That smile did things to her insides.
“Follow me,” he instructed, on the move.
In a snap, he stepped through an adjacent door and out of sight. Mariana dashed into motion to catch him. His brisk clip never once relented as they navigated a maze-like series of narrow corridors.
Finally, they reached a set of double doors locked with an iron padlock larger than her two hands put together. This was a far more formidable lock than the exterior one. She would wager it weighed half a stone.
“What is this place?” she asked again, her curiosity nearly tripping over itself to find out.
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Time to work your magic again.”
She tore her eyes away from the dratted man and considered the challenge before her. Luck had been on her side with the first lock. With this lock? Her luck had just run out. She risked a glance at Nick. An intent gleam flickered in his eyes. It was as if he was impatient to have her succeed. How unexpected.
She reached for the lock and allowed its heft to sink into her hand. She released the hunk of metal and felt inside her knapsack for the pin. Its long, elegant length didn’t appear equal to the challenge. She suspected Nick caught her hesitation, which strengthened her resolve to succeed. She wouldn’t fail in front of him. Not again, anyway.
With renewed focus, she crouched low on her haunches to better examine the lock. Indeed, it was large, heavy, iron, and formidable. She slid the pin inside, increment by careful increment, and pressed her ear to its cold, hard surface. Just as with the exterior lock, the tip of the pin found a tiny hole and slipped inside. This time, it refused to release.
Frustrated, she raised her head and immediately realized her mistake. Positioned before her face was the closure of Nick’s trousers. All that stood between her and his manhood was a foot-long patch of air and a flimsy length of wool.
“Mariana?”
At the sound of his voice, she startled and tipped backward onto her bottom. Would the humiliation of this night never end? The somewhat mollifying thought occurred to her that, at least, she was wearing trousers. A flash of her bits would have been entirely too much.
Her eyes flew up to meet his, expecting to find amusement there. She didn’t. He remained intent on her in a way that called to mind the Nick she once knew. As he lowered to a crouch beside her, she pushed herself up and mirrored his position. Their eyes locked and held on an equal plane.
Into the short distance between their lips, he said, “You’re almost there.”
“Oh?” It was a moment she could sink into and allow to happen, but the reality was he referenced the lock and not . . . other possibilities.
“A quick, hard twist left should do it.”
Although her brain received his instruction, she could hardly process it. His closeness, his warmth, and the way they combined to conjure last night distracted her so completely. Giventhatkiss, a kiss now didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility. It occurred to her that it might even be an inevitability . . . An inevitability?
