Lord Day and Lady Night

22. In the Night the Shadows Come

They sat gazing at each other for a long moment—then Amy suddenly realized she was still holding his hand.

"Ehem." Quickly, Amy tugged her hand free.

Or at least meant to.

Her arm didn't move.

Traitor!

From under her lashes, she glanced up at him—and regretted it immediately. He was gazing at her. Amy had had plenty of men gaze at her before, but like this...?

He was staring not at her assets, not at her curves, but at her. Her eyes. Herself. Just...her.

And her hand still wasn't moving!

Unlike the heat inside her. It was rising. Slowly, but steadily rising up her neck. What...what was this strange feeling? What was happening to her? Was she...blushing?

"Miss Amy, I..." Patrick began—then abruptly cut off as, above him, the roof of the coach creaked under a certain someone's weight.

"By all means, do continue," Karim's gravelly voice came from above. "I'm used to conversations like this by now."

Yep, Amy. Ye're blushin'. Ye're definitely blushin'.

And she was still holding his hand. Why was she still holding his hand?

Well...

Maybe it wasn't so surprising, considering what had happened later last night.

Don't think about it! Think about kidnappings! Crimes! Brutal gangs! That's much easier to deal with than...than...that!

But how could she possibly not think about it? How could she possibly forget what had happened later that night, when he...

***

"Wonderful evening?" Angeline's eyes glittered at her brother as one would at a particularly irksome cockroach. One covered in dirt. And swimming in your soup. "It's bloody two in the morning!"

"Oh, um...then it's a wonderful morning, isn't it?" Smiling brightly, Patrick reached out and strategically pushed two of the cutest children forward.

"You...!" Angeline's eyes flared up, promising the fires of sisterly hell. "If the next thing you say is 'happy birthday', I am going to punch you in the bloody bollocks!"

At that, Amy received a sideways stare from Patrick. Smiling innocently, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Don't look at me like that! She picked up that one all by herself!"

He still looked adorably suspicious. But he must have decided now wasn't the right time, because he turned back to face his little sister.

"Well?" the tiny woman demanded, still looking as if she wanted to punch him. Gesturing, she pointed at the horde of ragged children. "What's your excuse?"

He hesitated—then, a determined look appeared in his azure eyes.

"I have none." Taking a step forward, Patrick bowed his head in front of his little sister until they were on eye-level, gently taking hold of her shoulder. "These children have been rescued from a horrible place, and they have nowhere else to go. Please help them."

"You...!" She did punch him, then. Not, however, to Amy's severe disappointment, in the aforementioned bollocks. "How am I supposed to refuse when you say things like that?"

He wheezed, and yet a grin spread over his face, carefree and innocent. Amy felt her heart melt just a little bit. And in one tiny corner of it, she found herself wishing that someone would smile at her that way.