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wheels. Even as she strained to hear if he had pursued her, she cursed her ungovernable impulses. She was still in their grip, torn by a mix of terror that he would catch her—and regret that he would not.
    But she kept on running, making for the bolt-hole. She need make it only around another turn, dodge into the alley, and she’d be safe. When she reached it at last, she pressed the secret lever that unlocked the hatchway door and slid down into the narrow space hidden behind it.
    She was safe. Safe from the dragoon. But her body, still throbbing with the passion he’d made smolder with his kiss, made her wonder if she’d ever be really safe again.

Chapter 3
     
    N ever before had Trev sobered up as quickly as he did, standing with his throbbing cock exposed to the frigid London night, watching in disbelief as the woman who’d torn open his heart rounded the corner and disappeared. He felt like an absolute fool. He must be grateful his humiliation had gone unobserved. But even that solace was taken from him as a carriage made its way toward him on the deserted street and slowed to reveal the horrified eyes of a lady within.
    He whirled around to face the wall, as if like any other drunk he had merely unfastened his breeches to relieve himself. His cheeks burned with shame.
    He marveled now at the madness that had overtaken him when he’d found himself possessed by that overwhelming mixture of revelation and homecoming he’d found in the pickpocket’s arms. It tickled the edges of his consciousness even now, like the last fleeting memory of one of those dreams that seem real even after awakening. But it had been only a dream.
    He’d used the power he’d gained over her to trap her, and she’d done exactly what he would have done had he found himself in her predicament. How could he have imagined for even a moment that she would feel anything but disgust at the crude coupling he’d offered her?
    And yet, so powerful had been what swept over him as he had held her in his arms that he could have sworn she had shared with him, body and soul, that astonishing feeling of something miraculous about to happen. That she was the one who would give him what he’d longed for all his life.
    He was mad, and he knew it. Unbidden, another woman’s voice echoed through his mind, I’ll be back tomorrow with a cake for you if you’re a good boy now and don’t cry. Well, he should have known better than to go haring after what he knew he’d never find—and he’d certainly sought it in a strange place this night.
    He’d get over it. It shouldn’t be hard. She’d left him with no more dignity than a tomcat whose amorous cries had been quenched with a bucket of slops. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All he could do was to learn from it. Everyone made mistakes, but the men he looked up to never made the same mistake twice.
    It was only after he’d fastened up his pants that he noticed the thin chain that dangled from the hand with which he had fruitlessly tried to detain her. It must have snapped when he’d grabbed her collar in that futile attempt to keep her from abandoning him. As he glanced down at the pavement, he saw what its burden had been: a round locket that lay glinting against the dull cobbles. He stooped to pick it up and flicked it open. His exploring fingers found a lock of hair secured in the hollow on one side. The other held a portrait, but it was too dark to make out any details.
    She must have stolen it. A girl like that couldn’t afford to have a portrait painted. On the other hand, only a very stupid thief would hold on to a piece of jewelry with a portrait that could identify it as stolen—and his pickpocket hadn’t struck him as stupid. So the portrait must be of someone important to her. A brother perhaps or, more likely, a lover.
    His lips curled up. If it was a lover, he’d come that close to making the man a cuckold—and not without considerable help from the girl.
    He considered