with true zeal could have borne what she had endured yesterday without once breaking down. Maybe it was her gentle grace and keen sense of humor. Or mayhap it was the kindness he glimpsed in her gaze and the sweet curve of her smile. He knew so little about her really, yet he could not help wanting to know more, wanting to know everything.
A giddy laugh rippled from her mouth, a strawberry flush dusting her cheeks as a troop of small dogs dressed in the most absurd costumes appeared in the ring. They twirled on their hind feet and barked enthusiastically as they jumped through a series of increasingly smaller hoops. Her pleasure in their antics was a marvel to behold. She laughed again and his loins tightened, his arm flexing beneath her hand as his blood ran hot.
Shifting in his seat, he turned his gaze away.
The performances continued for another half hour, concluding with a magnificent mock battle complete with racing carriages, “armies” of mounted soldiers dressed in full military regalia, and the crack-and-smoke of faux gunfire as the British captured a French Imperial Eagle and Napoleon himself.
The crowd roared and applauded amid a crescendo of stamping feet and cheers, Emma along with them—minus the stamping, since she was far too much of a lady to participate in such a display.
Nevertheless, her cheeks were flushed with obvious pleasure as the noise faded and people began to make their way from the theater. “That was absolutely brilliant,” she told Nick as they stood. “Thank you for bringing me here, my lord. I cannot tell you what a treat this has been.”
Nick inclined his head, more pleased than he ought to be at her delight. “You just have, and you are most welcome. Now, what would you say to a drink and a light repast? Were it solely up to me, I would suggest a public house not too far distant. But I suppose such a place won’t do for a lady.”
“Will it not?” she asked, her eyes lighting up at the suggestion. “I’ve never been to a public house.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nor should you. I see I was unwise to mention it.”
“But now that you have, we simply have to go.”
“Oh, do we? Gunter’s would be a far more suitable choice.”
Her lower lip thrust out in a moue of disappointment.
“Most women love Gunter’s,” he said.
“I am sure it is a fine establishment, but not at all adventurous. Hardly fitting after the spectacle we have just witnessed.”
“Ah, so is that what you’re after—more spectacle?”
“Might we see one in the public house?”
He chuckled. “That is highly unlikely. Generally it is just men sitting around talking, drinking ale, and having a meal. Nothing terribly unusual and certainly not daring.”
“Then what is the harm in taking me there?” she encouraged. “Besides, how can I come to any harm when you shall be at my side?”
He scowled, realizing she had caught him neatly in his own trap. “Gunter’s would be better.”
“We can go to Gunter’s another day,” she wheedled sweetly.
He groaned, half exasperated, half amused. “Very well. The public house it is. But you are to stick to me like a burr every moment we are inside.”
Playfully, she grabbed his arm again and held it tight. “I’m sticking already.”
At that exact moment, a toddler ran past them, followed by a man who was clearly giving chase. As he reached to grab hold of the wayward youth, he accidentally bumped Emma’s shoulder and sent her stumbling against Nick.
Instinctively, Nick caught hold and pulled her into his arms, tucking her tightly against his chest. His heart gave a strong swift beat, then another, his body humming with warmth and unmistakable need.
Her lips parted, breath soughing in and out in sweetly scented drafts. She trembled against him but made no effort to pull away; if anything she curled closer.
“Are you all right?” he murmured huskily.
She nodded, her eyes wide and brilliant, not with alarm but something else.
“Here
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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Brenda Sinclair
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