Win took her elbow lightly. “Yes, yes,” he said, guiding them farther away from the komtesse’s residence, for Poppy was still useless with her snorts and chuckles. “It was all very amusing. Have your laugh. I don’t mind.”
With a shaking hand, she wiped her eyes. “Your face, Win.” She snorted again. “For a moment, I thought you would turn and jump into my arms for safety.”
His lips twitched. “It was a very near thing.” And then he laughed too. Which meant they stood like two jack-puddings, making a racket while the sensible people of London scurried past, lest they be infected too.
Their gazes clashed, and his breath hitched, his laughter dying in a half-cough as he realized how close they stood, hunched over each other, her hand clutching his arm for support. Hers ended on a hiccup, and they stared at each other from across their small divide. No one saw him like this. Sheridan would likely faint on the spot should he hear Winston laughing. Only she truly saw him. Only with Poppy did he feel true joy. Just then, he missed her so much that he hurt, a physical pain that urged him to reach out and pull her near so that he could hold her.
She straightened, bringing herself closer, her expression suddenly as lost and as pained as his surely was. “Win…”
Win didn’t know what had changed, perhaps the sound of a footstep that was too determined or the snick of a knife snapping open, but his attention shifted from Poppy’s delectable mouth to their surroundings. She too seemed to have noticed the danger as well, for her eyes narrowed and her frame grew stiff.
“We’ve picked up an interested party,” she said, as if conversing on the weather.
“Indeed we have.” Taking her arm, he guided her down the path. They maintained a casual stroll, but his hand tightened on his walking stick. Win did not turn to see, but instinct told him there were at least three persons following. The foot traffic had thinned out, leaving them vulnerable to attack. Then again, it left him free to fight back without worry of hurting an innocent observer. His back tightened when, from the periphery, he saw four thugs fan out.
He leaned closer to Poppy and smiled as though he were paying her a compliment. “When we get to the overpass just ahead, move to the wall behind me and stay there.”
Her brown eyes flashed in surprise. “And do what? Wait meekly until you have bested them?”
“That is the general idea, yes.”
Her lips thinned in a parody of a smile. “How about this? You take two, and I take two.” Her arm moved slightly, and she clutched her fan at the ready. A bloody fan? He almost laughed, only he wanted to strangle her more.
“Might I remind you,” he said through his clenched teeth, “that you are with child.”
“Which makes it imperative that we end this scuffle quickly.”
Her logic appalled him. He was on the verge of pulling her to the side when she spun round to face their stalkers.
“Gentlemen,” she said as the men halted. Four big brutes who looked spoiling for a fight. “I believe you have lost your way. I advise you to turn around before you regret it.”
Win had to give her credit. She was as fearsome as the worst schoolmarm. Only these weren’t boys. And he was certainly going to kill her when they got out of this. He stepped shoulder to shoulder with her, before easing her back. Or tried to; she wouldn’t budge. Grunting in annoyance, he pulled his coat open enough to show the gun he wore beneath it. “You heard my lady. Go on and find easier sport.”
Even as he spoke, the oddness of the men poked at his awareness. They hadn’t said a word, but simply stood, weaving slightly on their feet as though foxed, their eyes unblinking. Beside him, Poppy appeared to notice the same, for she went pale.
“Shit,” she said.
He risked a glance at her as he moved to pull his gun free. Her hand on his arm halted him. “No,” she said. “Won’t do any good. They’re undead.”
“What?” A breeze swept over them, and he caught the scent of rotting flesh.
Poppy backed them up, her hand like a vise on his forearm. “Undead. As in corpses called up from the grave to do their master’s bidding.”
Hell. One day, he’d wake up and it would all be a dream.