Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

And the siege of polite indifference had continued.

That voice, Jules thought, freezing. It was Wilkes! She was certain of it! She clutched her small derringer, fear trickling through her, fear and excitement. At last! Her eyes glittered in anticipation, her fingers tightened about the trigger.

But it wasn’t Wilkes. It was a man, a very dirty man, dressed poorly, and he was drunk.

“Little girlie,” he said fondly, staggering toward her. “My Anna had red hair, like a flame, she did.”

“Get away from me,” Jules said, backing up a step.

“Anna?” he said, his eyes bleary, his voice shaking.

“No, I’m not Anna!” Jules said, and tried to pass him. He let her go, and she heard him make a whimpering noise behind her. Poor man, she thought. She turned slightly to look at him, worried that he might hurt himself. She jumped as two hard hands grasped her shoulders, jerking her around. This man was neither drunk nor dirty, and his eyes were alight with unexpected pleasure.

“Well, well, you’re dressed awful nice, ain’t you? Awful pretty, too. How much?”

“I am not a whore,” Jules said, her heart beginning to pound painfully. “Go away.”

“How much?” the man repeated. She saw in a detached manner that one of his front teeth was gold. “I’m rich and you’re just too pretty to let go. Come now.”

“Go away,” she said again, and pushed her hands against him. He didn’t even notice that one hand held a gun.

“It’a almost dark,” the man said, tightening his grip. “I don’t mind the alley. Do you like it standing up? I won’t pay you as much as I would if I could stick it in you in a nice bed. Come on now, little honey.”

She tried to jerk away from him, but it was no use.

Suddenly his hand was flattened over her mouth and he was dragging her backward toward the filthy, dark alley.

“Stop fighting me,” he hissed into her face. “I’ll pay you, and you’ll like it.”

He was strong, Jules thought blankly. Oh God, what had she done? She felt her heart pounding wildly, felt her mouth go cotton dry. He was going to rape her!

She felt his mouth pressing wet kisses on her face, felt his hands tugging at her cloak to get to her breasts.

“Stop it!” she screamed against his hand.

She felt his hand wild on her breast, kneading, pressing her back against a brick wall.

“You just hold still,” he growled at her, and lifted his hand from her mouth. She yelled, a high, thin sound that broke off abruptly when his hand yanked up her skirts.

His hand was pressing against her stomach, jerking at her underthings. She started hitting him, and the derringer struck the side of his face. He drew back in stunned fury.

“You little bitch,” he said in utter astonishment. “Why’d you do that? You ain’t nothing but a—” He stopped abruptly, seeing the derringer. He grabbed her wrist and jerked it forward. But she wouldn’t let it go. There was a loud popping noise.

Jules watched as the man spun away from her, clutching at his shoulder. Blood oozed from between his fingers. He stared at her, his expression disbelieving. She dropped the derringer into her reticule and sagged against the wall.

“Mrs. Saint! What the hell—”

Thackery, whose practice was to keep well behind her, came bursting into the alley.

“My God,” he whispered, “you shot him!”

“He thought I was a whore,” Jules said, her voice calm, too calm, Thackery thought, eyeing her white face.

“What did you expect? Walking about by yourself, daring someone to come along . . . Oh damn!”

Thackery gathered the moaning man and hauled him upright. “Mrs. Saint, fetch me a carriage, now!”

Jules dashed into the street and yelled at a passing beer wagon. It cost her all the money she had to convince the man to drive them back home.