Free Forbidden by Nicola Cornick Page A

mutton
pie.
    “Don’t confuse me with the sort of women you consort with, Jem
Mallon,” she said sharply. “I’m no lightskirt.” She bit her lip against the
sting of tears. “You’ve spoiled my evening,” she said. “I was having such a nice
time.” She felt forlorn, like the little girl she had once been, stamping her
foot with anger and hurt when Jem or Jed or Billy had broken one of her precious
toys.
    “For God’s sake, Moll,” Jem said contemptuously. “Can’t you see
all he wants is a quick fumble down a dark alley and he’s just loosening you up
for it?”
    Henry stepped between them then with so much intent that
Margery grabbed his sleeve in urgent fingers. The atmosphere had changed now. It
was deadly.
    “No,” Margery said. “Please.”
    Her eyes met Henry’s. There was such protective fury in his
that she was awed to see it. Something sweet and warm settled inside her. Here
was a man who cared about her good name and would do all he could to defend it
and her against the world. She had never felt so cherished before.
    “Your sister does not want me to hit you,” Henry said, his
voice lethally soft. “Out of respect for her, I will not. Don’t insult her
again.”
    There was an ugly look on Jem’s face. He would not back down.
“I don’t trust you,” he said. “If you touch her I will kill you.” He turned on
his heel and stalked out of the inn, sending a glass tankard spinning to smash
on the floor and pushing a drunk out of his way.
    There was a long, heavy pause and then the music struck up
again, raucous as before. The sound of voices rose above the din, and everyone
moved, resumed whatever they had been doing and pretended that they had not been
watching and hoping for a mill.
    “I’m sorry,” Margery said. She was shaking. She felt Henry take
her hands in his. His touch was very comforting.
    “He only wanted to protect you,” Henry said. “I would have done
the same.”
    Margery gave a little hiccup halfway between a sob and a laugh.
“I doubt you would have threatened to kill anyone,” she said.
    “I might have expressed myself slightly differently, but the
sentiment would have been the same.” His lips grazed her cheek in the lightest
and most fleeting caress. “I’ll take you back,” he said. “Completely untouched,
so that your brother does not come looking for me to slide a knife between my
ribs.”
    He took her bonnet and tied the ribbons beneath her chin with
quick efficiency. His fingers brushed her throat. Margery repressed a shiver.
She felt shaken and upset but beneath that was a deeper emotion, something so
precious and tender she trembled to feel it.
    The street was silent and dark, the leaning houses pressing
together, their windows blind, their shutters closed. High above the sloping
roofs, Margery could see a sky spangled with stars. She felt tired all of a
sudden, as though the pleasure she had taken in the evening and in Henry’s
company had drained away, leaving her empty. She sighed. “I did not want the
evening to end like this.”
    Henry stopped walking and turned to her. “How did you want it
to end?”
    The quiet words made her heart skip a beat. She glanced up at
him but in the dark his expression was unreadable.
    “I wanted to go to Bedford Square Gardens,” Margery said, in a
rush. “I wanted to look at the stars and feel the breeze on my face and hear the
sounds of the city at night....”
    “We can still do that,” Henry said. “Since that is what you
would like to do.”
    Margery paused. They were alone and the night pressed in about
them, silent and secret. Somewhere, streets away, a clock chimed the quarter
hour. She could hear Henry’s quiet breathing and feel the heat of his body where
it brushed against hers. He said nothing more. He was waiting for her to decide
what she wanted.
    A strange feeling swept through Margery, part excited, part
fearful. Jem had been right; she had taken a risk tonight, but she trusted
Henry.