The Peculiar Pets of Miss Pleasance by Delilah S. Dawson

Author:Delilah S. Dawson [Dawson, Delilah S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2013-03-31T22:00:00+00:00

11

“Are ye hurt, lass?” It came as a whisper.

“You . . . you say that a lot.”

“Are you?” More forcefully this time.

“Only by your weight, I think. Was that . . . ?”

“Aye, a bolt from a small crossbow. It didn’t catch your skin?”

She shook her head, or tried to. Her hat and tight jacket made it difficult, sprawled under Thom as she was.

“Only my jacket.”

“Thank the gods.”

They lay there for a moment, long enough for her to notice the rise and fall of his chest and the woodsy scent that rose from his skin, reminding her a little of the heady, smoky Scotch that Bertram had sometimes stolen from their father’s liquor cabinet. She’d poured it all down the loo, after their parents’ funeral, just to be sure her brother’s recklessness didn’t get out of hand. Frannie didn’t hear any more arrows, but then again, she hadn’t heard the first one, thanks to Casper’s playing and the shouts of the rabble.

“Is it safe?”

“I don’t know anymore, lass. You’re having a run of awfully bad luck. And you’re shivering like a wee pup in the night. Scared a bit?”

“A bit.”

“Can ye wait here, on the floor, while I fetch the Coppers?”

Frannie gasped. “No Coppers.”

He let out a contemplative breath, going still. “Escape it is, then.”

Casper’s song ended with a crescendo, and the lights went up, nearly blinding Frannie. The crowd went mad with shouting and stamping and clapping and whistling. Thom gently climbed off of her, leaving her exposed and cold with dread.

“Come, lass. We need the cover of the crowd.” He began to crawl toward the back of the box on his elbows and knees, and Frannie rolled over to follow, her long skirts twisting and catching beneath her knees. Thom met her in the shadows behind the rows of seats and helped drag her farther back before reaching up with a small knife to slice the cord holding the privacy curtain. Once it fell, he stood to help her up in the complete darkness behind the fall of burgundy velvet.

Her knees wobbled, but he steadied her, one hand on each arm. The knife had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and she realized that she knew very little about Thom, outside of his altruistic profession and his kindness. She took deep breaths, trying to force herself into calm or at least sharpen her senses.

“The pet shop’s made of stone, aye?”

It caught her by surprise, and she had to think for a moment. “On the outside, yes. There’s wood on the inside in places.”

“Then it’s safer than the fire station. Can ye walk, or must I carry you?”

“I’ll let you know.”

He stifled a chuckle and took her hand.

Thom opened the door just a crack, and the sound of voices and the smell of overly warm bodies assailed them. Cold dread sneaked down Frannie’s neck, and she held back from the bright light beyond the door. The person with the crossbow could be out there. Thom tugged her hand, but she didn’t move.

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