“Yes, but I am in the guise of Catriona. Calling you ‘sir’ is a reminder to myself. If it bugs you, I’ll stick to Dr. Gray.”
“While I call you by your given name? You call Isla by hers in private. Would you not call me Duncan in your world?”
“Our voices are carrying. I’ll take the lead.”
I pass him as he mutters, “I pity the man who would grab you from behind, mistaking you for a delightful confection.”
“I heard that. Also, I am very delightful, in my own special way. Now, hush. We’re tailing someone.”
We’ve been speaking in low voices, needing only a whisper to be heard in this dark and silent place. We can hear our target’s boot clicks, far ahead. She’s moving fast, and as we pick up speed, we stop talking and I roll my footsteps.
The close is a disappointment. Being so dark, it’d seem the sort of place where a mugging came guaranteed, like the one where the young man followed us earlier. But this one is too narrow for an attacker to lurk without being tripped over by their target. The young woman we’re following obviously knows the area and realizes she faces minimal danger cutting through here.
She reaches the end and turns left. I hurry along and peek out, only to stop short as a man slides from the shadows and sets out after the young woman.
Behind me, Gray gives an irritated grunt, and I glance back to see his narrowed gaze fixed on the woman’s newly acquired stalker.
“Two options,” I whisper. “We can follow and see if he causes any trouble, or we can make a bit of a scene in hopes of scaring him off.”
“The latter.”
I smile at him. “Excellent choice.”
I loop my arm through Gray’s, and we continue along up the hill. The woman and her stalker turn right onto another road, taking them out of our sight. I walk faster, and Gray matches me. When we round the next corner, I let out a yelping giggle and fake a stumble. The woman doesn’t notice, but the man glances back.
I lean against Gray. “The road is very uneven. I can scarcely walk upright.”
“I do not think it is the road.”
I swat at him. “Are you implying I am inebriated, sir?”
“I am not implying anything.”
The man shoots us a glare of annoyance, and as he does, I recognize him from the pub. He’d been one of the guys talking about the poison ring. Is that a coincidence? Or had he also overheard the women’s conversation?
I break from Gray’s grasp and prance ahead with my nose in the air. “If that is what you think of me, sir, then I fear you shall lack for company this evening.”
Gray grabs me by the waist and swings me up, making me shriek in surprise that’s only half faked.
Gray growls a laugh. “I think you are delightfully tipsy, my dear. It brings out the roses in your cheeks.”
“Put me down, you … you…” I don’t finish the line, mostly because I’m unsure of the period-appropriate term.
Gray continues to walk while holding me outstretched before him. “Are you certain, lass? You seem quite unable to stand on your own. I am helping.”
“You are manhandling me.”
“Of course. Because I am a man. I cannot handle you in any other way.”
I sputter a genuine laugh and turn it into a girlish squeal as I struggle. We have now caught the attention of the young woman. Seeing the man behind her, she stops short. Then she wheels, as if to run, and her stalker charges.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter as Gray plunks me down.
He takes off after the two. I bring up the rear, hampered by my skirts as I struggle to hike them higher and only succeed in fumbling the endless layers and almost tripping.
As I pass a building, a figure lunges from the doorway. I spin, about to raise my knife, only to realize that hand is also clutching my damn skirts. I manage to drop the skirts and not the knife, but that split-second delay costs me any advantage I gained by seeing my attacker’s charge.
Hands grab me. I elbow hard, getting a satisfying gasp in response. Then another pair of hands grab my legs and hoist me into the air.
I snarl, kicking and punching, each twist a fight against my corset, as I curse myself for not spending more time learning how to fight while wearing one. My boot catches a man in the gut, and I pull back to deliver a harder knock in the same spot. He lets out a curse, and I kick again. I find the knife release and press it. The blade flies out. Another slam of my boot, and the man holding my feet loses his grip, and I swing my feet down as I slash with the knife. It makes contact. The other man yowls.
I get my footing and dance back, knife raised. The two men both look at me. Then they look at each other, as if to say “You grab her.” They’re so focused on the knife-wielding doxy that they fail to notice the guy standing right behind them, looming a half foot above their heads.
Gray reaches out, almost casually, and lifts one man by the back of his collar. Then he swings him around and delivers a perfect right hook with that same equanimity. The man flies to the ground, and we both step toward the second man.
I would like to think me brandishing my knife spooks the second man. Or maybe the look in my eyes. But let’s be honest—the guy never glances my way. He’s too busy staring at the hulking shadow beside me.
The man glances down the street toward where the young woman ran off with the stalker in hot pursuit. A momentary pause. Then he bolts in the other direction.
His companion wobbles up from the ground. Gray grabs him by the shirt and swings him into the wall with a thud that makes me wince.
Gray doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even bring his face down to the man’s with a menacing glare. He pins him for three seconds, and then tosses him aside and waves for me to help chase the woman’s stalker.
This time, Gray motions me into the lead. He glances back at the other man, still picking himself up from the ground.
“They have knives!” the man bellows. “Both of them!”
With that, he scrambles away. Gray and I exchange a look. Okay, so I didn’t coincidentally get jumped as we pursued the woman. We were distracted to let her stalker catch her.
“Go on ahead,” I say as I run. “I can’t go any faster in these damned skirts.”
Gray stays behind me, and I resist the urge to snap that I had looked after myself just fine. That isn’t the point. If he’d been the one jumped, I’d stick close, too.
We don’t need to go far. Down one street and then looping back the way we came before we catch voices in a courtyard. I slow to listen.
“I heard you talking about Queen Mab,” the man is saying. “You know where the witch lives.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again, no matter how many times you strike me. The only Queen I know sits on the English throne. Not my throne, whatever the law might say. Mine’s in the castle yonder.”
“I heard you mention Queen—”
“You are mistaken.”
“I am not,” he says.
“If you’re trying to get a free tickle, threatening to turn me in for treason, you’d best walk me down to the police office now, because I don’t sell my favor, and I certainly do not give it away to the likes of you.”
“I’m talking about Queen Mab. The witch. The poisoner.”