Page 82 of A Deal with the Devil

“You saved me,” she pointed out. She had not thought it possible that he would have heard her struggling or wondered where she had got to. It made her want to cry. A little. Merely an aftereffect of an eventful evening, surely. “That was careful enough, surely.”

“Not nearly enough. I don’t suppose he very conveniently explained just who the hell sent him and what the bloody hell he wanted?”

“I’m afraid not. Very rude of him.”

Devil used his knuckles to tilt her chin up. They look bruised. “Are you sure you are all right?”

She nodded, feeling weepy, which would not do. “Thanks to you. He just said someone wanted a word.”

“I’m going to find Portsmouth.”

“You can’t.”

“I promise you, I can.”

“We can’t be sure he was behind this.” Devil just waited patiently until she wrinkled her nose. “Oh, very well,” she muttered. She could not imagine who else would bother to have her snatched off the street. “But you still cannot just go off and terrorize him.”

He scoffed.

“You can,” she allowed. “But you shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because it will not help my sister.”

“We are not trading your safety for your sister’s.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “A fair trade.”

“No.” Uncompromising, stern. Furious.

“Yes.” Just as uncompromising.

“I can save you both, damn it.”

Her eyes widened. She had not expected that, and certainly not so empathically. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed behind the breastbone, but softly, not the way it usually burned. She rubbed it, but just to make sure she was not imagining it. Her ankle throbbed. She almost didn’t notice.

“The others have all gone,” he said. “I’ll take you home and we can argue about it some more until you admit I am right.” That almost-smile was a brief candlelight against the wild storm of him. “Where I will also be sending for a doctor.”

“I just need a bit of ice,” she said, as if ice was something she could afford. “Or better yet, a comfrey poultice.” She still had some comfrey salve in her kit.

“A doctor,” Devil insisted.

She wrinkled her nose. “The only doctor I know will want to apply leeches, and I really hate leeches.”

“No leeches,” Devil promised solemnly. “And I have a doctor of my own.”

“Hmph. That might have been helpful when you were stabbed.”

“Barely grazed.” He reached for her.

“I’m sure I can make it to the carriage. I was very good at hopscotch when I was a child.”

“Humor me.”