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One minute ticked past. Two. Three more.
Marguerite suspected she was going to go quietly out of her mind if she had to wait for much longer. Eventually, the sound of running footsteps broke the tense silence. Her eyes widened. Instinctively, her hands rested on Joe’s waist, holding him closer. His arm slid around her waist, holding her steady. Together they watched and waited.
Marguerite knew that Joe was vulnerable because his back was turned to the street but that didn’t appear to faze him at all. He merely stood in front of her, patiently silent while he waited-and waited.
She forced herself not to betray any sign of emotion, even though she trembled violently when several dark shadows appeared out of the gloom for a few brief seconds. With her eyes locked on them she watched six, seven, eight men race past, heading somewhere; she didn’t really want to know where.
Eventually, the footsteps faded completely. Rather than move as she expected him to do, Joe remained perfectly still. Her eyes met his in the gloom, silently asking the question she dare not ask.
Joe shook his head slowly. Many minutes later, two disreputable looking men crept down the street. Their eyes scoured the area around them as they followed their co-conspirators. Marguerite instinctively stepped back and ducked her head. Joe stopped her from moving too much while he kept his head protectively ducked closer to hers, effectively blocking her view of the road.
“It will be alright,” he whispered.
The fog encompassed them and wrapped them in a world that was completely their own. Nothing else existed, in spite of the dangers that lurked around them. Nothing else was as important as the two of them. His head dipped. Everything screamed at him not to, that now was neither the time nor the place, but he was drawn inevitably to her, anyway. The soft sweep of her lips gliding gently over his almost made him moan. He had to remind himself where they were, and force himself to remain on guard. It was damned difficult, though, with such temptation before him. Her lips glistened in the gloom and seemed to draw him in. They were a temptation that was impossible to resist.
Opening his mouth slightly he tipped his head and captured her soft gasp with his lips. Her gentle sigh was swallowed by his low moan as he edged closer to her. He paused for only a fraction of a second to wait for any objection she might make. When she merely leaned slowly closer, he took it as a sign of her acquiescence and deepened the kiss. His mouth ground against hers, branding her as his in a way that encompassed her and commanded her to deny him nothing. Of course, she couldn’t. She allowed him to plunder, slightly worried about her own brazenness, and where it might lead them, especially at such a pressing time. All of that didn’t really matter right now. She needed this gentle reassurance, this silent plea for her trust, and she couldn’t deny either of them.
How long they stood there for was impossible to tell but it was an age before Joe decided to release her. With one last lingering kiss, he slowly lifted his head.
“We need to go,” he whispered.
Before she could draw a breath much less protest, he caught her hand in his and dragged her after him. She was still reeling from the force of his kiss and the emotions they had awoken within her when they crossed the road and passed between two large, stone pillars.
In a daze, she glanced up at the ironwork on the display sign above them.
“I am not going in there,” she gasped suddenly, her eyes wide with fear.
“We are,” Joe argued flatly. “It is the only place we can go. Now move, because we don’t have the time to be squeamish about this.”
Marguerite shivered and was suddenly grateful for the warmth of the cloak she gathered carefully about her.
“What is it?” she whispered when she sensed the tension in Joe. His hand had tightened considerably upon hers. He was tense and watchful in a way she had never seen before. When he turned to look at her she gasped at the coldness in his eyes. It made her world all that much more fearful, and she looked at him with renewed wariness.
“There is something wrong. Really wrong,” he whispered. All of his instincts were screaming at him that this was a trap. He had no idea how Sayers had managed it, but he knew, deep in his gut, that he had been herded in some way toward this point.
“Good God,” he murmured, impressed in spite of himself, and horrified in equal measure.
Marguerite sighed impatiently. It was really starting to grate on her the way he stared off into the distance, as though in a secret world of his own, and then muttered things like that. She always felt as though she was playing catch up, which living in a world she didn’t understand.
“Would you tell me what is wrong?” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“We have been set up,” he whispered.
Her eyes rounded. “What?”
“Keep your voice down,” Joe urged her. “We have been shepherded here.”
He wondered now if someone had been on the back of the carriage, or nearby somehow and had overheard him and Ben’s conversation. Either way, Sayers’ men knew exactly where he and Ben were going, and what they had planned to do as they were doing it. That angered Joe. More than anything, he hated to be set up for anything, and his temper began to stir.
Marguerite threw a furtive glance around them.
“What is it?”
“Have you ever fired a gun before?” Joe asked. He prayed she was going to say yes.
“Me? Never.” She shook her head vehemently and began to back away when he withdrew a small pistol from his cloak pocket.
“You need to carry it. It only has two shots in it so use them wisely. Whatever you do, if anything happens do not scream.”
