“What—” she began.
“Quiet.”
He shifted his body to block her from view and—because he couldn’t think of anything else to do that wouldn’t draw more attention—he lowered his head until his mouth hovered just above hers.
To anyone glancing their way, they’d look like a couple lost in a scandalous kiss.
Her breath caught, and he felt it warm against his cheek.
“Pretend,” he whispered against her ear.
She made a sound in her throat—something between a protest and a sharp intake of air—but didn’t move.
Jason angled his head, letting his lips just graze the scarf near her temple.
The footsteps drew nearer.
He pressed closer, not touching anything he didn’t have to, but close enough to shield her completely.
Her hands, trapped between them, clenched briefly in the lapels of his coat. Her eyes flicked up to his, wide and dark and?—
Bloody hell.
He became suddenly, uncomfortably aware of how soft she felt against him, how sweetly she fit in the circle of his arms.
And just like that—he realized with a jolt of irritation and disbelief—he had a cockstand.
A wholly inconvenient, thoroughly inappropriate cockstand.
He closed his eyes for half a second, breathing through his nose and willing his body to behave itself. Why did she have to smell so blasted good? Like lilacs and soap and?—
The drunken trio paused a few paces away, their laughter low and knowing.
“Ah, leave ’em be,” one of them finally muttered. “Plenty of other places to drink.”
Their footsteps faded back toward the house.
Jason stayed exactly where he was for another beat—until he was certain they were gone—then stepped back, letting cool air rush between them.
Georgiana blinked up at him from behind the scarf, her lips parted slightly.
He cleared his throat, adjusting his coat to cover himself and desperately hoping the shadows hid more than his pride.
“Come on,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We’re not entirely safe yet.”
She didn’t move right away. “What was that?” she asked finally, shaking her head as if coming out of a trance, her voice soft.
Jason forced a tight smile, though his pulse was still hammering unpleasantly.
“That,” he said, “was improvisation.”
Her dark eyes sparkled faintly in the moonlight, and she gave a tiny nod. Then, infuriatingly, she smiled.
“Quite effective,” she murmured.
Jason ran a hand down his face and exhaled. What the devil was he doing? Whatever it was, he reminded himself grimly, it was for Chadwick.
Nothing else.
