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“Shut up,” the man snarled and lunched toward her.
She tried to dodge him only to find her path blocked by someone else. A swift flurry of moment by her side flashed past her so suddenly that she fell against the wall. It took her a moment to realise that someone had arrived to rescue her.
She watched in astonishment as her rescuer launched himself at the assailant so speedily that the man didn’t get the chance to see what was coming. The men stumbled into the darkness, and were immediately swallowed by the smog. Tahlia heard the dull thud of flesh hitting flesh as her rescuer tackled the mugger to the ground, and winced at the brutality of it. A snarl of rage came from one of the men who were now grappling on the floor but she couldn’t see who. In fact, she couldn’t see much of anything apart from writhing bodies, and the occasional fist.
Unsure what to do, Tahlia kept her back to the wall, and screamed.
CHAPTER FOUR
The urge to flee was so strong that Tahlia physically trembled with the need to run. But she couldn’t leave the gentleman to fight the mugger on his own. Not after he had raced to her rescue the way he had. If anything happened to him because of her she would never forgive herself. It was unconscionable to simply abandon him. Unfortunately, the smog seemed to have grown thicker as the morning had progressed and was so bad now that it was almost impenetrable. She couldn’t see anybody walking past on the street she could summon to help.
Before she could scream again, a heavy weight slammed into her legs. Her eyes grew wide when she looked down and watched the two men wrestling for supremacy. Thankfully, she couldn’t see much beyond shifting shapes, but she could hear every bone crunching thump accompanied by the occasional moan of pain. Neither man seemed willing to surrender and rolled this way and that as they fought.
“Stop! Stop!” Tahlia pleaded desperately, but suspected they couldn’t hear her amidst the hoarse growls and dire threats.
A metallic tinkle by her booted feet drew her attention. Her heart raced when she spied her necklace the man had snatched off her mere inches from her toes. Grabbing it before it disappeared again, Tahlia dropped it into her pocket and glared defiantly at the men.
Her rescuer had managed to gain the upper hand now, and had reversed their positions so that the mugger was now beneath him. The ruthless force of one of the blows he rained down upon the assailant was staggering. Tahlia stared at them in disbelief. The battle was nothing short of ferocious. It was clear to Tahlia that her rescuer was the stronger, tougher, and more brutal of the two, but the mugger refused to surrender.
“’Ere get off,” the man snarled when her rescuer grabbed him by his shirt and began to haul him to his feet.
“Steal from a woman, would you?” The rescuer snapped as he gave the mugger a rough shake. “Hand it all over.”
“I ain’t got nothin’,” the man protested.
Tahlia froze when she heard the voice that had haunted her dreams for the last three years. For as long as she lived she would never forget those husky tones. They belonged to the very last man in London she wanted to see: Connor Humphries.
She peered through the smog at the shadows on the ground to try to get a better look. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. It couldn’t possibly be him – could it? She couldn’t say, and momentarily forgot about her fear as she stepped forward to try to get a better look at him. Before she could move, Connor leapt to his feet and hauled the mugger upright by his shirt.
“Stand up and fight,” Connor growled.
The younger man suddenly found himself slammed mercilessly against a brick wall beside Tahlia. Connor grasped the man’s shirt in one fist and pushed hard against his chest to keep him in place while he patted the man down. Before he could demand the jewels back, the young man began to twist and squirm to break free. The solid
fist which landed on Connor’s jaw made his head swim and unbalanced him enough for the young lad to gain the freedom he was after. Seconds later, he had vanished into the fog. The only sound of his presence was his booted feet scraping against the brickwork as he high-tailed it over a wall somewhere in the darker recesses of the alley.
Connor cursed fluidly as he watched the man disappear. He briefly considered going after him so he could deliver him to the magistrate, but Connor had work to do elsewhere. Mindful of that, he turned to leave and only then realised that a woman, the victim, was still in the alley. Cursing himself for having forgotten about her, he stepped forward.
Connor’s world suddenly slammed to a halt, and then began to swim alarmingly. He tried to steady himself by fixing his gaze on her. He daren’t blink in case she disappeared. Could it really be her? He willed his world to settle. It took a while before realisation dawned that it was her. He would recognise her anywhere; even after three long years apart. She was scarred into his soul; and was such a large part of him that he only really existed without her. He certainly hadn’t lived. He had been more a shadow of a man, coasting through life, wondering what might have been.
He daren’t hope. He had tried several times over the last three years to find her but to no avail. Outwardly, no trace of emotion showed on his face as his gaze roamed searchingly over her. Inwardly, he was a seething mass of emotions that were difficult to comprehend. So many thoughts crossed his mind; so many emotions battered his beleaguered senses that he wasn’t sure what to think.
“Tahlia?”
Tahlia turned her attention from the spot in the smog the attacker had disappeared into. She had never been so grateful to see the back of anybody in her entire life. Now, she wasn’t sure what to do. One problem had vanished yet another had arrived.
“Good God, it is you,” he breathed as he came to a stop before her.
“Yes, it is me,” she whispered a little defensively.
While the wall at her back didn’t offer her any form of security, it did help her remain upright. Her knees were shaking so badly she knew that if she tried to take a single step she was likely to fall flat on her face. Words remained unspoken. At the moment nothing seemed appropriate.
“How are you?” He winced when he realised how ridiculous that particular question was.
She has just been mugged. How do you think she is? He thought sarcastically.
“I am sorry,” he muttered awkwardly. Tugging at his ear, his gaze wandered over her. He tried to convince himself that it was to make sure she wasn’t hurt, but his careful scrutiny was more personal than that. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” she whispered tentatively. “I am a bit shaken, that’s all.”
