Page 81 of A Deal with the Devil

Miss Peridot poked her head around the side of the building. Kitty smiled at her as though her heart wasn’t still fluttering in her throat. She turned and tried to hop back into the alley. Devil frowned, slipping his arms under her and picking her up. Right up off the ground.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, like hauling around booksellers was all perfectly normal.

“I don’t want them to make a fuss,” she said. “I hate fussing. I can walk, you know.” She said it even as she snuggled closer. His scent of wood smoke and amber was almost as good as the smell of books. Almost better.

Maybe she had hit her head when tossed into that carriage.

Devil ducked into the back room but did not set her down just yet, as if he did not want to. The cords of his neck were taut, his pulse thrumming under the skin. His arms were firm but surprisingly gentle around her. She could get used to this.

She should not get used to this.

“You can put me down now,” she said.

“No.”

“I’m—”

“Just give me a moment.”

There was something else under the rage, the clench of his jaw. Concern? Worry? Was it merely pride? A man like Devil could not afford to let his name be associated with anything but authority and fear. He would protect his betrothed. That had to be it.

He finally put her down, very carefully in the rickety chair. It creaked and wobbled. He scowled at it.

“It always does that,” she said, refusing to be embarrassed because she was certain not a single chair in his Mayfair townhouse would dare wobble.

“I need to talk to that coachman,” he said. “Don’t move.” He looked at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “On second thought—Godric!”

Godric hurried through the shop. “Yes, Devil?”

“Don’t let anyone steal her.”

Godric nodded, looking far less like the helpful giant who let her sneak him frosted cakes shaped like ducks and much more like a proper Viking.

Devil stalked out. Kitty tried to smile. She felt strange: full of lightning but also exhausted. Rain began to fall outside, pattering at the windows. “Would you like some tea?” she asked. Her grate was small and smoky and she had a shockingly small amount of coal, but she would make do. She couldn’t just sit here.

Godric snorted. “If you stand up to make me tea, Devil will murder us both.”

“I think my ankle is already much better.”

“Please, don’t,” Godric begged when she stood up. He would never even consider shoving her back into her chair. Devil would, as attested to by his reaction when he came back to find her testing her weight. Her ankle ached but the pain no longer lanced up the back of her calf. An improvement.

“I’ve locked up the front—I told you not to move,” he growled.

“It’s feeling better already,” she said. She put her full weight on that leg, decided not to do that anymore, and leaned a little to the other side.

“You are a terrible patient.” Devil glared.

“You got stabbed and wouldn’t even see a doctor!”

“You nearly got kidnapped and won’t sit down!” He sounded half wild, very unlike the chillingly composed Devil she knew. He scrubbed a hand over his face. His voice turned quiet. “Godric, I’ve got this.”

Godric nodded and left. Quickly. Very quickly for a man who’d looked like a brutal warrior not five minutes ago.

“That was an inexcusable mistake,” Devil said. “No one should have gotten that close to you. It won’t happen again.”

“None of that was your fault.”

“I should have been more careful.”