Page 4 of The Viscount of Shadows

She took a step closer to get a better look. The man was encased in leather from head to toe, from the long coat, waistcoat, shirt, trousers, boots, and scarf around his head. Claudia could not tell if the mask hiding his facial features was leather. Perhaps not. He slipped his truncheon into his belt, the dagger under his coat, then pulled his floppy hat lower over his brow to conceal his eyes.

Claudia reached into her cleavage and handed a card to him. “I am with The Galway Investigative Agency. Sorry about the kick. I thought you were a rookery boss.”

“I’ll live,” he mumbled. Claudia surmised that he took the card and slipped it in his coat pocket, for it was too dark to read the thing anyway. “Then go about your investigating and be gone. It is not safe hereabouts. And you shouldn’t carry anything that can identify you.”

“I am aware it is not safe,” she bellowed. Although Leather Man had a point about the card, she would never admit it aloud. Althea and Eleanora had mentioned it might be best not to carry identification. Claudia should have surmised they meant the business cards as well. Live and learn.

He stepped toward her, but Claudia held her ground. He clasped her arm and brought her in close enough that she caught a brief and faint whiff of bergamot and lime. She always had an excellent sense of smell. The odor was an expensive men’s cologne, meaning this man was not working class. Though the mask muffled his voice, he did not have the cadence of the lower stations of society.

She raised her chin defiantly, catching his gaze—and a brief glimpse of light-colored eyes, though she could not quite make out the shade. Blue, gray, or green? It was hard to tell. The Sentinel pulled her into the shadows, causing her to gasp and grab his arm. Solid muscle flexed under her grasp.

“A further word of advice,” the deep, muted voice intoned. “Before kicking men in the bollocks, ascertain if they are friend or foe.” He nuzzled her neck, causing a frisson of awareness to pass through her. And a jolt of excitement.

He released her arm and stepped farther back into the darkness.

“I will do as I like!” she called out.

But she was talking to damp, foggy air. The Sentinel had disappeared.

* **

He could barely see straight from the pain radiating throughout his body. Luckily, he only received part of the impact from that summary boot to the bollocks. If she had caught him full-on, he would still be groaning and drooling in an embryonic position in that filthy alleyway.

But as he loped away, he could not help but admire the woman. She stood up to those men, even cut one.

And she worked for The Galway Agency; what were the odds?

He could also not help but notice her obvious attractiveness, at least, what he could make out in the darkness: all that red hair with streaks of fireplace flame. Because of her disguise, he thought he was coming to the rescue of an unfortunate prostitute.

But when he brought her in close, enough to have those luscious curves tease and arouse him? It stirred emotions he had not experienced for a long time. Perhaps his pain was a specific stiffness that had nothing to do with being injured.

But enough of this, the night was still young, and he had other territories to cover tonight.

But as he traveled through the dank streets of the East End, the bold lady detective remained at the forefront of his thoughts.