“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Alora thought it was terrible, but out of politeness didn’t say so. Instead, she took to rubbing her cheek against the Urchin’s back, sighing at the feel of him. “That’s George. I also have a rabbit. Mrs. Flops.”
“And you question my choice in names.”
“She’s the sweetest thing. When we reach home, you might come up and meet her.” Alora chewed at her lip while she waited.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?” Behind his back, she thought she might cry at the injustice of it.
“Because you cannot be trusted.”
“I cannot!” But then he shifted against her, and she forgot all about it. Carefully, she pressed her body closer, so that he might feel all of her, aligned to all of him. He stiffened. “You’re strong. Stronger than William.”
“Do not speak to me ofWilliam. You’d do well to stay away from him.”
“Why should I?” All she could think of were his lips on her neck, on her chest. How much he’d wanted her while the Urchin did not.
“Because he’s a performer, and performers are obsessive types.”
Alora laughed. “How broad. And you are not?”
“I am not prone to it.”
“So yousay.But I know you for a liar now.” She shifted her gaze without lifting her head, studying the pale trees as they passed by, the narrow, secret path they followed. “Are these woods as treacherous as they say?” Not an ounce of fear trickled through her, only curiosity.
“It’s exaggerated, but not untrue. Merridon doesn’t dispute anything to keep the mystery alive. And the nonmembers away.”
Alora could hardly stand it, being so close to him and not being able to get closer. His voice was rough, just as she imagined his hands would be. Her own was held still to the taut plane of his abdomen, but she adjusted it now, slowly down so as not to alarm him. When he stayed silent, she eased it farther still.
“What are you doing?”
“Searching for a pen.”
With a grunt of irritation, fingers enclosed around her own, pressing their paired hands tight upon the Urchin’s thigh. She couldn’t move her hand at all, though she didn’t think she wanted to. It was the next best thing. After all, he’d evenlacedthem.
“He should have never done this to you. He will regret it soon.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“You will, trust me.”
Alora laughed. “Trust an Urchin? I could never. Though, really, I’d do anything to have you for awhile. Are you so sure you can’t? I would make it memorable, I swear.”
Again, the Urchin hissed a curse, but it was a bit more strangled than before. Perhaps he was crumbling, just a little. To be sure, she pressed herself against him again, hoping to send him into pieces.
Alora yelped in surprise. One moment she was inhaling the Urchin’s scent, picturing how his broad back must look unclothed. The next, she found herself draped over his front, her shoulder to his chest and her legs dangling from one side. He ducked his head before she could so much as blink up at him, lashing the donkey’s reins to his saddle.
Then a mask was against her ear. “Spread your legs.”
Alora, mouth suddenly dry with triumph, did precisely as told. Only for him to grip her about the thigh and drag it over the horse’s opposite flank. Her dress rode high up her legs, the saddle horn the only thing protecting her modesty, and it was Alora’s turn to swear then. In utter, defeated disappointment.
“You tricked me.”
One arm pulled free to drape across her chest, pinning her own in place. “You left me little choice.”
