The Hero Strikes Back (40 page)

While Erin explained to Risa the difference between a tort and a crime, Doran touched my arm to get my attention. “They're holding a bench-dancing competition on West Baker Street,” he said. “It's just a little one. Most people are still watching the performances. But I thought you might like to indulge in something you're good at. You know, after—” he waved at the stage, “—that. And I've never seen you dance.”

There was no reason why he should. “I'm not dressed for it.”

“Please. For me.”

I let myself roll my eyes.

Doran glanced at Karish's arm, still around me waist. “My lord, please. Use your influence. This will be good for her.”

“You overestimate my influence,” Karish said over my head. “But you should go, Lee. For my sake if nothing else. You've been impossible this last little while.”

I twisted around to glare up at him.

He grinned back.

I was surrounded by men who thought they were just too clever.

But what the hell. I had nothing else to do. “We'll have to go by the house so I can change.”

“We've got time if we rent a carriage.”

Karish withdrew his arm. “Don't sprain an ankle.” He leaned down to kiss my cheek.

“I'm never going to forgive you for today, you know.”

He winked at me. “You'd forgive me anything.”

Aye, probably, more fool I. But I was so happy to have the old Karish back, the easy-going relaxed Karish, that I wasn't up to pretending I was seriously angry with him.

We said good day to Risa and Erin, whose discussion had degenerated into some kind of practical versus theoretical legal argument. Karish slipped away with a wave. Doran offered me his arm and as I was wearing those obnoxious skirts over uneven ground, I took it.

“May I call you Lee, too?” he asked.

I hesitated. Few people called me Lee. My family. A couple of old lovers. Karish, from the day we met and without bothering to ask permission. Shields were usually called by their family name by those within the Triple S. Dunleavy, from a regular, was acceptable. Lee, though, assumed a sort of familiarity I wasn't usually comfortable with.

Perhaps I needed to get over. “Sure,” I said. Besides, I liked him.

So did Karish, it seemed, though that wasn't as much of a relief as I would have expected. And that was foolish.

He seemed a nice, normal person. Easygoing, non-dazzling, with a calm, regular life. And I could use a little of that. No more weird adventures.