Ghost Girl

Chapter 8

I never expected my first real kiss to be in the middle of the night in a foggy Mayfair street. Then again, I hadn't expected my first kiss to be with an otherworldly warrior. Nor could I have anticipated that it would turn my bones to jelly.

His mouth didn't move at first, as I suspected his mind was on the footsteps, but after a moment, something changed. His lips explored mine, gentle yet insistent. His arms tightened around me and I responded by digging my hands into his hair and holding his head in place. It was scandalous, but I didn't care. I just wanted him to keep kissing me. The thrill of it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. I was weightless in his arms, and not quite there, or anywhere. It was as if his presence, his kiss, filled me up and left no room for sensible thoughts. There was only his mouth, his arms, his body, and the excess of sensations swamping me, from the tingles sweeping along my skin to the feeling that nothing would ever compare to this.

Behind him, someone clicked their tongue. Quin went still. His grip tightened and he broke the kiss, but did not look around.

 "Do that in the park, not outside my house. Go on!" The voice belonged to Mrs. Myer.

I glanced up at Quin. His eyes glittered in his shadowed face. He flipped up the collar of my coat and tucked me against his body, shielding me from Mrs. Myer. Dipping his head, he marched me across the street and into the park.

I sagged against the rough bark of a plane tree and let out a breath. "That was close."

Quin positioned himself so that his body shielded me from the street. He peeped around the trunk. "She went inside." He leaned back against the bark next to me. "I should not have done that. My apologies, Cara. How do you say it?"

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Aye. Sorry."

But I was not sorry. I was glad that he'd been the first man to kiss me. How could I not be when it made me feel so good? "There was no alternative. She would have seen us if we hadn't, er, taken action."

"I admit that it was the first idea that came to me."

I smiled. I rather liked hearing that. "We should go home. This was a foolish idea."

He took my hand again and we headed out of the park. I glanced back at the Myers' house before we turned the corner. "I wonder where she'd been at this time of night." For a recluse, she was out rather late. And on foot too—very odd.

Fortunately we were not accosted by cutthroats on the way home and did not lose our way in the fog. Once we reached the front steps of Emily's house, Quin let go of my hand. He looked up at the front door.

"We discussed what to say if Myer discovered us," he said, "but not how to explain ourselves if Beaufort did."

"Jacob will do whatever Emily tells him to do. You may not think him pliable, but he is in her hands. And she is more spirited than she appears on the surface. Don't worry about them. I won't tell them you ravaged me in the streets of Mayfair." I nudged his arm to show him I was joking.

He grunted. "I do not need to ravage women."

"Oh? Come to you willingly, do they?"

"Aye."

He trotted down the service stairs and put the key in the lock. I trailed after him, somewhat speechless, and received a dazzling Quin St. Clair smile as he opened the door.

***

The society's library was tucked into the back of a coffee house located in a complex warren of narrow alleys in the old part of the city. The windows were clean but I doubted they'd seen sunlight in years with higher buildings overshadowing either side and opposite. The wood of the bar and tables was worn smooth by centuries of use and it wasn't difficult to imagine bewigged gentlemen meeting there to discuss trade and money when the coffee house first opened. Little had changed. The gentleman no longer wore wigs but they pored over the day's newspapers, and the snippet of lively chatter that I heard as we entered was about the latest financial reports. All talk stopped dead when they spotted me, however. Considering I was a woman, and half the age of most of the patrons, it wasn't surprising that I was the focus of their attention. Quin blended in a little better in his new suit.