Page 44 of A Wicked Game

Morgan glared at him.

Harriet, disappointingly, wasn’t even wearing trousers. In fact, it seemed her only concession to sporting attire was to wear a shorter-than-average skirt and petticoats that gave an excellent view of her ankles. Her luxurious hair had been tamed into one long braid that rested over her shoulder and snaked down over her chest. The tail of it curled suggestively right where he imagined her nipple would be beneath her corset.

Morgan dragged his gaze back upward and met Harriet’s mocking gaze.

“If I could have your undivided attention for a moment, Captain Davies?”

Her tone was drier than the sands of Egypt.

Oh, she was a cheeky wench. She needed a good spanking.

“Yes?”

“We need to discuss the course.”

“Very well. We agreed a hundred yards. Where do we go?”

“We start here. Turn right at the corner, run along Knight Street for fifty yards, then turn left into Squeeze Gut Alley. The race will finish at the far end of the lane.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes at the name of their destination. “Squeeze Gut Alley?”

“Yes.” Harriet’s eyes held a wicked twinkle that made him want to grab her and kiss her. “It’s very well-named. You’ll see.”

Gryff clapped his hands. “Maddie, you stay here and act as starter. I’ll go and wait at the end of the course to judge who comes in first.” He trotted off around the corner.

Morgan made a shooing gesture with his hands at Harriet. “Off you go then. You get a twenty-yard head start.”

“I doubt I’ll need it,” she taunted. “But thank you.”

She carefully took twenty large steps toward the entrance to the cobbled yard, counting aloud as she did so. “Here?”

“That’ll do!” he shouted back.

Morgan’s heart began to pound at the thrill of the chase. Despite Harriet’s head start she would still be hampered by her skirts. He had a longer stride. The street beyond was relatively quiet; he shouldn’t be slowed by carts or stray dogs.

“Ready?” Madeline called.

Both he and Harriet nodded.

“In that case…go!”

Morgan pushed off, pumping his arms as he set off in pursuit. Harriet turned the corner in a flurry of skirts, and when he followed only seconds later he was pleased to see he was already gaining on her.

The road ahead was clear. His boots slipped a little on the damp cobbles, but he’d had years of sliding around on ships’ decks, and righted himself with ease.

Harriet glanced over her shoulder and gave a squeal of dismay.

He laughed, already scenting victory.

A pigeon flew up in a puff of feathers as he pounded past a shop window, but he was only ten yards behind her now. The open mouth of the alleyway loomed to her left and Morgan grinned. It was wide enough for a horse and cart. He would definitely be able to catch her before the end.

She veered sharply into the alley, her braid flying behind her like a loose rope in a gale, and he followed, but his heart sank as he rounded the corner and saw what lay ahead.

The sneaky little weasel!

Past Harriet, at the very end of the lane, a tiny sliver of daylight indicated the exit. A dark shape—doubtless Gryff—hovered just beyond.

Damn!

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