“No!” she screamed, launching herself forward.
Leaping up, she flung herself onto his back, winding her arms around his neck. He choked in surprise, staggering back under the unexpected weight of her, and she tightened her thighs around his sides, as if she were preparing to ride a horse.
Well, don’t think of that.
Then there was a long, awkward pause.
Amelia had expected him to cry out in rage, perhaps spin around to dislodge her. Perhaps he would even claw backward, trying to grab her and pull her over his shoulder.
Instead, the wretched man simply stood where he was, as relaxed as if she were a light knapsack on his shoulder. He had his hands on his hips, for heaven’s sake.
“That was not well thought out, was it?” he remarked at last, with a faintly amused sigh. “If I wished to dislodge you, I could simply fling myself backward onto the ground. I imagine that you would find it rather difficult to hang on under those circumstances.”
“Uh…” Amelia trailed off.
“And if you are planning to choke me properly,” he continued, heaving a sigh, “you will need to tighten your grip.”
“Choke you? Why on earth would I wish to do that?” Amelia gasped, shocked. “I might hurt you.”
There was a brief moment of silence. She wished she could get a look at his face. Was he smiling or frowning? Or was it that irritatingly neutral-yet-amused expression he’d worn in the storeroom?
“I see,” he murmured.
Amused. I knew it. Wretched man.
“Well, if you do not intend to harm me, I suggest you release me,” he drawled. “You will not hurt me, but I am increasingly afraid that you’ll hurt yourself.”
She reddened. Thank goodness he could not see her face.
She shifted, suddenly painfully aware that herlegswere wound around hismiddle. Good God.
He was rather warm, too. She could feel his muscles shift against her when he breathed, firm and warm and nothardexactly, but without any cushioning of fat.
That tickle-ache returned to her chest, spreading to her gut. She might have imagined she’d eaten bad stew, except the sensation did not quite fit. And she had not, of course, eaten any stew at all that day.
“A constable might appear at any moment and assume that you are robbing me,” the man added. “He will be confused, to say the least. We should spare this hypothetical man’s feelings.”
“This… this is a little ridiculous,” she mumbled shamefacedly.
Releasing him, she slid down the firm curve of his long back, landing with a thump on her feet. She felt oddly cold without his body pressed against hers. Her face heated.
Beyond him, Marjory seemed to have finally understood how much danger she was in. When the man’s gaze left her, she began to back away. Amelia longed to smile reassuringly at her, to urge her to run, but if she drew any attention to her, that man would chase her.
He turned slowly, his lips pushed out thoughtfully.
“You are making this matter more difficult than it should be,” he stated.
Marjory reached the alley entrance and slipped away. Amelia gave a ragged sigh of relief.
“Please, my good?—”
“If you call megood sirone more time, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
She scraped her teeth across her lower lip. “Very well. My good Orion?—”
He barked a laugh. “Oh, that’s much worse. Well, let us not get distracted. Your sister has stolen from me, and one of you must pay for it. I do not mete out punishment easily, but really, enough is enough. Your sister…” He spun around and fell quiet.
The alley was empty, except for the two of them. There was no sign of Marjory.
