Page 2 of Wake Me Most Wickedly
And while she’d love Tamar to stay with her forever, the longer her sister lingered in Hannah’s world, the harder it would be for her to transform her path into something better. Which meant she really needed to get on with gathering the dowry she’d promised. One that would catch the eye—and hand—of a certain type of man. One that would erase all the unsavory bits of her family’s past and her own present.
Or at least blind her sister’s potential in-laws to them.
Shivering, Hannah rubbed her arms, hugging her body closer as a drenched rat skittered across her path. She moved forward and a second darted by. Followed by third and a fourth. Frowning, she crept behind a stack of crates to see what had frightened the creatures. She peered into the street and started.
Before her stood three men. Two she knew rather well. Unfortunately. Her shoulder still throbbed from their last encounter. She rubbed the spot on her jaw that had boasted a bruise for three days as well. They’d taken half what she’d made last week too. Something that would not happen again. Sheltering in her hiding spot, Hannah squinted at the sole stranger.
Young, probably closer to her sister’s twenty years than her thirty-two. She wrinkled her nose. A dandy. With a shiny top hat and golden buttons just begging to be ripped off his too bright wool coat.
“Now, let’s not be hasty or irrational about this,” he said, his gloved palms raised to the men in almost supplicant surrender, his voice surprisingly calm.
“Oh, no one’s being hasty. No, sir.” Mick, the one who had punched her full in the mouth when she refused to give him an extra cut of her earnings, gave a dark chuckle. “Cool and slow, we are.”
“Yes, we’re the most logical men you’ll ever meet,” George—Mick’s partner—the man who had twisted her arm so sharply behind her back, her sleeve ripped—added.
“I can see that,” the stranger responded, his full lips twitching. Shockingly, he stepped toward them, not away, his posture bold, almost relaxed. “And I have a great respect for that logic and for both of you. Which is why I answered you honestly. I do not have any fundson my person. However, perhaps, if you provide me your addresses, I could send a card and we could agree to a mutually convenient meeting time and place for me to pay the very reasonable fee I owe you both for…” He raised a finger, cocking his head. “What did you call it?”
“Walking out of our territory alive,” George growled.
“Yes, that’s the terminology.” The stranger nodded, threading his fingers together, not even flinching at the menacing noises emanating from the other men.
Oy. The dandy was certainly brave. She had to hand it to him on that front. Foolish, but brave. And probably soon to be quite injured. Not that she’d feel sorry for him. There was no good reason for someone like him to be on these streets at this hour. This was his own doing.
“An excellent, succinct description of the service you’re offering me,” he continued, “a very valuable service indeed. A—” The man’s words cut off as he broke into a hasty, slightly clumsy sprint in the opposite direction.
Hannah’s lip twitched as he darted around a trough and into an alley, making enough noise to wake the dead, if not half the East End. Though the way he jumped over a fence, clearing it completely as the tails of his rather audacious blue frock coat flapped in the wind, was rather impressive. Especially as he managed not to get his ridiculous long gold watch chain caught.
However, his pursuers knew the area a great deal better and were already traveling around the corner to head him off. Hannah rubbed her sore arm.
She should go home, get in bed, and forget about all of this until they inevitably pulled the stranger’s body out of the Thames in a few months. That would be the best course of action.
And yet… she bit her lip.
Yes, the stranger likely had earned whatever was coming to him, dressing like that this far east, not to mention wandering alone in the middle of the night. But the idea of those two momzers taking her blunt and getting his as well… she balled her fists before ducking and skirting down another alley, cutting through the troughs and racks behind the goyishe butcher’s shop, near tripping headfirst on the latch to his cellar door.
Oy. She was a draikopt, always looking for trouble, wasn’t she?
Though looking at that now broken latch gave her an idea. Speeding her steps, she made it around the corner just as he emerged and, better, before Mick and George cut him off. Grabbing his arm quicker than he could cry out, she pulled him down with her, into the darkness.
They landed on the floor of the cellar in a heap, the door still ajar.
“What the—” he started before she clamped a hand on his mouth as muttering drifted from above.
Heart in her ears, she held as still as she could, barely registering the warm sensation of the stranger’s body against hers. Nor the woody, yet somehow rather pleasant scent of whatever undoubtedly expensive cologne he was wearing.
No, she didn’t dare move until his pursuers’ voices had long ceased and the chittering of rats once again filled the air.
Only then did she remove her hand.
“Thank you for that,” he said, straightening his jacket.
Shielding her eyes, she squinted, pointing above. “Don’t thank me just yet. We still have to get out of here.”
“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” he murmured. And before she could inquire as to what he meant, he’d wrapped his arms around her waist. With an almost achingly gentle touch, he hoisted her up through the open door, keeping her skirts smooth and intact.
Hannah scrambled to her feet and backed away just as he leapt upward, catching the edge of the opening, and swung his legs past the edge so he landed neatly on his feet. Graceful as a cat. A large one. With a wolfish grin.
“There we go.” He brushed his hands together and removed his hat.
