Page 45 of An Extraordinary Lord

But the woman only sagged back against the wall and pressed a fist to her mouth, too terrified to move.

Veronica grabbed her shoulders and gave her a fierce shake. “Run, damn you!”

With a gasping sob, now just as terrified of Veronica as the men, the woman stumbled backward a single step. Her terrified eyes darted toward the street and escape. She pulled in a deep breath and ran.

Merritt stopped his retreat and flashed his sword in the moonlight, to let the light catch the blade and remind those four damned fools of exactly how sharp it was. But the idiots thought they had him trapped and didn’t retreat. Instead, they raised their clubs and started forward. One of the men snatched up a discarded bottle and smashed it against the wall.

With a grimace of aggravation, Merritt lunged and easily knocked the broken bottle from the man’s hand. This time, he didn’t retreat. He struck, stabbing his blade into the man’s shoulder and driving the tip of his sword an inch deep.

The man howled in pain and fury. But he was smart enough to run away before Merritt could strike again.

He pointed his sword at the man to his left, who’d rushed forward when his comrade had fallen back. Merritt stopped him at the tip of his sword. “You want to have a go next?”

“Or would you rather fight a girl?” Veronica called out, stepping into the middle of the alley behind the remaining two men.

When they glanced over their shoulders at her, she pulled both knives out of her sleeves in a single cross-armed movement. And smiled.

The men’s eyes widened, then glanced between Merritt’s sword and her knives. They were beaten and knew it. They stumbled backward, carefully slid past Veronica, and raced out of the alley.

Veronica lowered her knives to her sides with feigned disappointment. “Guess they didn’t want to fight a girl after all.”

“God knows I wouldn’t,” Merritt answered dryly. “You girls fight dirty.”

A low thrill tingled through her as he stalked toward her, and she replied huskily, “What fun is there in playing clean?”

A hungry look darkened his face, and the tingle turned into a full-out throbbing. He moved his gaze predaciously over her, the way a wolf might contemplate its prey. Right before he devoured it.

He stepped forward and slowly backed her up against the alley wall. She flattened herself against the bricks, with her arms raised to her shoulders and her hands still fiercely grasping both knives as if her life depended upon it. When he stopped in front of her, she turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed to shut out the temptation he presented. She didn’t dare let herself step into his embrace.

She swallowed. Hard. Madame Noir was right, Veronica knew that. He was the absolutely worst man in the world for her to desire. She and Merritt? A convicted criminal and a barrister? A thief-taker and a gentleman? She’d have to be mad to let herself even consider such a thing.

Yet knowing that didn’t stop her from wanting him.

He placed his hands flat on the wall on both sides of her shoulders and lowered his head close enough to hers that his warm breath tickled over her cheek. He didn’t touch her, yet she was certain the front of his body thrummed with electricity from her nearness as much as hers did from his. He murmured, “You came looking for me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Worried about me, were you?”

She could practically taste the self-pleased smile on his lips. “Never.”

“Liar.” His low chuckle rumbled into her. He cajoled in a husky voice, “Look at me.”

Unable to resist, she opened her eyes and somehow managed to lift her chin in defiance, despite pressing herself flat against the wall. She didn’t dare touch him, not even an accidental brush of bodies. One touch… God have mercy, she’d be lost.

“You’re not kissing me,” he pointed out.

“Brilliant observation,” she drawled with all the sarcasm she could muster. She wore it like armor to keep him at bay. “I’m sure the army appreciated your finely honed reconnaissance skills.”

Ignoring that, the devil leaned closer until his lips almost teased at hers. “Why aren’t you? This is usually when you grab me and kiss me.”

She scoffed. “Someone has a high opinion of himself.”

“I speak from experience.”

“AndIspeak from common sense when I tell you that you’re not nearly as attractive as you believe you are.”

She expected him to laugh at that, too. Instead, he stroked his thumb along her jaw. “But you want to kiss me.”