Read Beyond A Wicked Kiss for Free Online

not trust himself to see what manner of traffic there might be on the street. He cocked his head to one side and listened instead. He recognized the approach of a heavy carriage drawn by a pair of horses and a hackney pulled by a single animal. Neither conveyance was moving quickly and he judged he had time to cross without mishap. He was not at all concerned that the person following him might not be able to do the same.
    West reached the other side of the street, made a sharp left, and continued swiftly to a point halfway down the block where there was an opening between two white brick residences. He stepped sideways into the dark mouth of the narrow alley and waited.
    The steps that had been following him slowed, then finally came to a halt. Weapon in hand, West waited patiently to see what trick the cutpurse might get up to.
    "Your Grace?"
    Had he not been mildly astonished by the sweetly feminine voice calling to him, he would have had occasion to wonder if he had indeed been branded with his new title. The fact that he had been followed from the club by a woman did not mitigate the danger. It had been his experience that women who took to the street for their living could be every bit as treacherous as their male counterparts. He could also not dismiss that there might be a pimp nearby ready to help if she could not manage the thing herself.
    "Please, Your Grace. I can no longer see my fingers at the end of my hand. Are you here?"
    West stepped forward and stood safely at a long arm's length from her. He spoke softly, pleasantly. "Mayhap you can see this?"
    "Yes." She blinked, recoiling from the blade that was thrust close to the tip of her nose. "Yes, I see it."
    "Just so. You will have the goodness to remove your own weapon."
    "I have none."
    Her denial did not convince him. Lest he find a shiv between his ribs, or a bullet in his balls, West moved quickly, capturing her wrist and spinning her around so she was pressed against him. He frog-marched her into the alley and pushed her flush to the rain-slick wall of the southernmost residence. She turned her head sharply to one side so that her nose was not ground into the mortar and allowed her cheek to be imprinted by the brick. Other than an initial gasp, she did not make a sound. That was unexpected, for experienced thieves rarely came along quietly, preferring instead to protest their innocence at the top of their lungs, or better yet, make accusations of wrongdoing against the very person they were trying to rob.
    "What do you want?" he asked.
    For all that her response was nearly inaudible, it held the unmistakable tenor of a command. "I want you to remove your hands from my person."
    "That is not what I meant." He continued his search without pause, drawing aside her cloak and running his hands impersonally along her narrow torso and under her breasts as he looked for a sheathed dagger or pistol. His large hands almost completed a circle about her waist, then spread apart as he covered her hips and the length of her thighs. He forced her legs apart and conducted an efficient search between them, all the while keeping his own knife at the small of her back.
    When he was finished, he stood slowly and stepped away, returning his own weapon to the soft leather scabbard fitted inside his boot. "You can turn around." His tone was everything polite. "And you can tell me why you were following me."
    She did not answer immediately, and West chose not to press, recognizing that a few moments' respite were in order for her to achieve composure. He took those moments to study her averted profile, a study that was impeded by the heavy woolen hood that covered her hair and fell low over her forehead. West reached out to push it back. She reacted as quick as an adder, striking his forearm with the flat of her hand to shove him away. She could not have moved him if he had not allowed it, at least not without a good deal more force than she applied, but he did allow it and slowly