“Dammit!” Collum cried, already running as he shouted. “Stop!”
Collum bolted down the narrow alley between the stalled conveyances. Bran’s mouth dropped open when he saw the oblivious kids directly in his path. Collum reached the boys and grabbed the backs of their jackets to haul them aside. But the boys scratched and spat, unwilling to let the brawny stranger manhandle them away from their prize.
It was too late anyway. The spirited horse had no intention of slowing. Collum and Bran had time to exchange one look before Collum yanked the boys against his chest and dropped to his knees, curling his body over them both.
Bran’s gaze skipped left and right, but there was no way out. Only feet away, he jerked up hard on the reins. The gray responded with exquisite execution and soared up and over the huddled threesome.
“My God,” Jonathan breathed. “Magnificent.”
Phoebe gasped. “Whoa.”
Bran shot a look over his shoulder. Collum rose, and while the newsboys dashed off, cursing him, Bran’s head dropped in obvious relief.
Jonathan turned to Mac in alarm as Bran cleared the wagons and steered the horse toward us. “I say, is that man intending to run us down?”
Mac chuckled. “Not us.” He jutted a chin in my direction as he and Jonathan scooted to the inner edge of the sidewalk. “Just her.”
The dusky animal threw up its head, barely skidding to a halt before Bran was off its back. Eyes wild, cheeks red with cold and exertion, he gripped my shoulders.
“Hope!” Panic hoarsened his voice. “Are you all right? Were you hurt? Why is there blood on your face? God’s sake, someone talk to me, please!”
Shaking, my chin quivering like a kid who’d lost her mom at the mall, I looked up at him.
“Hey, Bran,” I managed. “You’ve got some gunk on your cheek.”
He stared down at me, his gaze unwavering as he swiped at his face and rubbed thumb and fingers together. “Hothouse tomatoes, if I’m not mistaken. Shame, really. Tomatoes are quite costly this time of year.”
“Yeah. Shame.”
My voice cracked, and with a moan, Bran crushed me to his chest. I could barely breathe, but this confinement I did not mind. Wool scratched against my cheek as I burrowed into him, breathing the spice of a cedar chest and damp wool and a citrusy bite of some nineteenth-century soap. But beneath all that lingered a hint of apple and the fresh, cold aroma of an icy forest.
His heart was in jackhammer mode beneath my ear. Despite the cold and fog and passersby who clucked their tongues, I could have stayed that way for the rest of my life.
When Bran eventually let go and stepped back, I became suddenly and acutely aware that beneath Collum’s coat I wore only a shabby smock. My hair looked—?as Nurse Hannah had once declared—?like cats had been clawing at it, and my frozen feet were caked in filth. I hadn’t bathed in two days and . . . Oh God, I needed a toothbrush.
That slow grin appeared, and I wanted to sink beneath the crust of the earth. As an unfortunate blusher—?no graceful rose-tinged cheeks for this girl—?my face and neck heated up and I knew that now, adding to the entire Hope Walton wreckage, my face was turning into an appalling patchwork of red and white blotches.
“Okay,” I said. “You can stop staring. And I know it’s bad, so you don’t have to lie.”
“All right.” Bran’s head tilted as if giving my appearance a thorough inspection. He spoke very seriously, but his eyes were gleaming like sunlight through stained glass as he said, “Hmm. While I do admit you look a bit like something my dog once dragged from the shrubbery . . . I believe I can bear it.”
He kissed me then, and if it had been dark, the stars would have fallen from the sky to shower us in their silvery light.
Behind us, someone groaned. Pretty sure it was Collum.
“So-o,” Phoebe said. “This is sweet and all, but could we maybe get out of the rain sometime today?”
She was right. In the last few seconds the mist had thickened into a drizzle. Funny. I hadn’t even noticed.
Collum gave Bran a guy chin bob. “Nice jump.”
Bran nodded. “Thanks. And I appreciate the intervention. Murdering innocent children was definitely not on today’s agenda.”
Mac clamped Bran’s shoulder as he and Jonathan hurried past, collars raised against the dampness. “Good show, son,” he said.
Phoebe bussed Bran’s cheek and trotted after them. I started to follow, but my feet—?apparently having decided to abstain from any kind of forward motion—?stayed in place. I toppled forward.
Bran caught me before I could face-plant into the pavement.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to coax my now thoroughly numb feet to just move already.
“Begging your pardon, milady.”
In a perfect imitation of a medieval nobleman, he scooped me up and deposited me on the horse’s back. I was shuddering now with wet and cold and okay, the fact that Bran was here.
He leapt up behind me, unbuttoned his wool greatcoat, and wrapped it around me on top of Collum’s. I nestled against his chest, luxuriating in the combined warmth.
“All things considered,” he said, “I generally find the horse a more expedient mode of transportation than crawling down the sidewalk.” As we trotted off through the slowly clearing traffic, I felt his chuckle rumble against my back. “Except when on a boneheaded mare who decides she is the one in charge.” Pressing against me, he called over my shoulder, “Run loose like that again, you mad beast, and it’s straight to the glue factory for you. And trust me when I say in this age that is no idle threat.”
The horse turned her huge head and eyeballed him as if to say, Sure, dude.
Bran sighed theatrically. “Women.”
As we trotted through the streets of late Victorian New York City, Bran’s arm tight about my waist, I began to relax. Though I could no longer feel my feet and lower legs, the rest of my body grew toasty as he cuddled me close.
The shakes subsided, and my blood began to race as his fingers traced along my waistline through the thin material.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly near my ear.
“Hmm?”
“I should have been there.”
“Oh,” I muttered, sleepy. “’S oka—”
“No,” he interrupted. “It is not. And I swear that if I hadn’t known you were in the best of hands I would never have . . . Well, it’s difficult to explain. You see, Gabriella and I had to?. . .”
I stiffened, and my body twitched away from his. The coat dropped to puddle at my waist.
“Oh, no. No,” Bran hastened to add. “God, no! Don’t—?don’t pull away. It isn’t like that at all. Please, allow me to explain.”
After a moment, I let him settle the coat around me again, though the blissful warmth had faded and I was now wide awake.