He wasn’t. That’s the long and short of it. Everything about that scenario was the stuff of pure, heart-thudding, pulse-thumping, heat-rushing,not-thought.As the mastiff made flying leap after flying leap from below, Nigel cast back to that heady sensation of skirt-wrapped thighs on either side of his face. Her long, shapely shin and calf beneath his palm. The delicate bones of her feet, the chamomile-lavender scent overwhelming every sense—
A long, loud, tearing sound jerked him from his reverie. Pulled abruptly back into reality, his jacket half-torn away, Nigel gave himself up for lost. Strange that he should have stood against the Shadowbane Lady herself in a contest of Dark Sorcery which threatened to Undo the Very Fabric of Worlds . . . only to meet his end so ignobly in the teeth of a determined watchdog.
“Mr. Grimm!”
Nigel turned his head to see Luna hurrying down the sidewalk toward him. His heart throbbed first with delight, then with fear for her safety, followed by a sudden, sickening plunge straight to his gut.
Because she wasn’t alone.
Just at her heels trailed an unmistakably massive, green-uniformed personage of raw masculinity.
“Dragon,down!”Luna cried, her words followed by a loud blast from the wardsman’s whistle. To Nigel’s great surprise, the dog released its hold on his jacket and dropped to its belly, whimpering softly.
Officer Ward strode up, all commanding power and confidence, and collared the dog, which submitted to him with scarcely a growl. “Don’t you worry, sir,” he called up thelamppost, grinning so that each tooth flashed in the thaumatic glow. “You’re safe now.”
Nigel stared down into that objectionable face. It occurred to him that, though he’d snuffed the accumulated Dire Matter in his fist, he could quite easily summon back a handful. More than enough to cast a subtle wart spell, that wouldn’t even take effect until sometime tomorrow. The dashing officer, shocked by the sight of his warty face in the glass, would never think to link it to the poor florist he’d saved from a rending the evening before.
Firmly chasing this idea back to the recesses of his brain (where his Dark Sorcerer self still lurked, apparently, alive and kicking), Nigel slid down the lamppost, landing with athudon the sidewalk. He was keenly aware of how the scene must look: the wardsman, the very picture of manly strength as he stood over the subdued mastiff; and Nigel, ungainly and pathetic, as he reclaimed his footing and tried to adjust the folds of his torn jacket, which flapped like a pair of sad wings from his shoulders.
All while Miss Talbot stood just there. Taking it all in. Forming her opinions.
“Well,” the wardsman said, flashing Nigel one of those dreamy grins, “looks as though no limbs have been bitten off. You got lucky, old man! Too bad people can’t be bothered to keep their wild animals properly chained up if they’re going to go about leaving their front gates wide open.”
He winked at Luna then, who giggled in response. Actuallygiggled.
Nigel’s stomach tied itself into a granny knot. The limpest, stupidest of all knots.
He still hadn’t managed to find his voice.
“I’d best deliver this beast back to his owners,” Officer Ward continued, and tipped his hat to each of them in turn. “Have a g’night, miss. Sir.”
With that, he proceeded back down the sidewalk, dragging the mastiff behind him. The beast offered a lackluster snarl but, at a stern word from the wardsman, tucked its tail and trotted along at his side quietly enough. A swath of Nigel’s jacket still dangled from its teeth.
Luna watched the officer until he disappeared around the bend. Nigel didn’t actually hear her sigh, but there was a certain sigh-ishness about her whole demeanor he couldn’t help but notice. At last, however, she turned to him, holding up a limp little stalk of greenery. “Success!” she proclaimed. “One tiger lily, safely fetched.”
Nigel tried to summon up a grin in response. It wouldn’t fit properly on his face, but Luna didn’t seem to notice. Her own smile vanished in a look of sudden seriousness. “The houndsnose got away from me,” she confessed. “It’s back in Lord Bruxley’s garden somewhere. Do you think . . . ?” Her gaze turned back the way Officer Ward had just disappeared.
Finding his voice in a sudden rush, Nigel took a hasty step forward. “I think we’d better trust the houndsnose to find its own way home.” When Luna turned her anxious gaze his way, he added more gently, “We must get the lily potted before it expires. It looks rather wilted.”
Luna nodded and stroked the flower’s trembling stem. “Poor thing,” she murmured.
Stifling the wish that she would extend some of this crooning attention toward him, Nigel led the way back up the sidewalk. They progressed together from one pool of lamplight to the next. In between, the evening was darker than expected. That walk from Lower Eastside had carried them farther from home than Nigel had realized, caught up as he’d been in the thrill of the chase.
They crossed the road to steer clear of Lord Bruxley’s home on their return. Nigel’s gaze was drawn to the tree standingnearest to the gate, one of those with its own little wrought-iron fencing. When they had first entered the neighborhood, that tree had been green and thriving. Now it was dead. All the life-force drained from its core, channeled into the Dire spell he’d used to blast the gate open.
Sorcery required sacrifice; it was one of the basic tenants of the craft. A poor sorcerer might sacrifice some of his own life-force for the sake of a spell, but Nigel long ago learned to source energy from outside himself, something he now did on reflex. But the results weren’t always so obvious. Or so ugly.
Nigel glanced sideways at Luna, afraid she might notice. But her worried gaze was directed, not at the tree, but back through the gate and down the long driveway. Was she looking for the houndsnose? Or was it a rather more impressive figure she hoped to spy?
Setting his teeth, Nigel took hold of her elbow and hurried her on a little faster. “What time is your curfew this evening, Miss Talbot?” he asked.
The ploy worked. Luna instantly forgot all about handsome officers. A look of sudden horror washed over her face. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. Even as she spoke, the chantry bells on Giltspur Street began their distant toll. Both Nigel and Luna froze, counting the tones all the way to seven. “Oh, dear!” Luna repeated. “I’ve got half-an-hour to get back, or I’ll be locked out for the night! My roommate’s not home either, so she can’t sneak me through the fire escape. Oh, and we’re all the way up here in Northside . . .”
“Don’t panic,” Nigel reassured, hastening her back into motion. “The trollies on King Kybald Row run down to Lower Eastside. If we hurry, we can catch one.”
“I don’t have money for a trolley fare!”
“I can pay our way.”
