Page 73 of Seductive Reprise
She could barely comprehend what was happening, only that he stood shoulder to shoulder with a tradesman, a policeman, and a couple of grooms. And then they all heaved at once, rolling the horse forward.
Apparently the crowd hadn’t expected much, for when the horse reluctantly leaned the other way and pulled itself into a seated position, everyone gasped.
A few scattered cheers broke out, along with an embarrassingly late smatter of applause.
Yusef approached the horse’s head delicately, examining its eyes and jaw, running a hand along its neck, and then its legs, one by one. Seemingly satisfied, he sighed and stepped back, allowing another man to move forward and grab the horse’s bridle. Its driver, no doubt.
With a bit of a struggle, the driver pulled the beast up to standing, this time eliciting a stronger, but still modest applause from those assembled.
“He’s fine—call off the slaughterman,” Yusef called out, clapping a hand on the driver’s back, something akin to a pleased smile on his face.
Rose nearly gasped. She’d never seen him this way, willingly in the muck of the streets. Smiling about it, even.
“Yusef!” she cried out, suddenly wanting very much to be with him.
He looked up and scanned the crowd, searching. When his eyes fell upon her, she sucked in an excited breath.
And then someone snatched her bag.
Rose yelped, wheeling about in time to spot the back of the woman with the shabby brown shawl tearing through the crowd as she heaved the strap of Rose’s bag across her back.
“No!” Rose shrieked, terror seizing her. All that work. All that money. She took off running, not thinking, panic coursing through her veins. The woman was so far away, how could she ever hope to catch her? A man stepped in front of her, and Rose slammed into him. She fell backward, the wind momentarily knocked from her lungs.
No. No. How could this be?
After a few panicked gasps, she finally managed to draw in a shaking breath. She wheezed it out as she scrambled to stand, to set after the woman again, if only she could manage not to crash into anyone else, or trip—
Hands were on her shoulders, pulling her against a firm chest. A familiar scent flooded her senses, and she began crying for the second time that day, balling handfuls of the white linen shirt underneath her in her fists.
“Shh,” Yusef tried to soothe her, rubbing one hand between her heaving shoulders.
“No, please,” she gasped. “My portrait. My portrait of Walter, you don’t understand!” she wailed.
“I do understand. I understand it’s gone,” he said, his voice gentle.
It infuriated her. “No!” She pulled back, and realized the assembled spectators had given up on watching the horse and were now turning their attentions upon the two of them. Her cheeks flushed with humiliation.
Yusef tightened his grip on her, his face hard. “It’s gone. Do you truly think you’d catch up?”
“Let me go,” she sobbed. Her world was falling down around her, and no one cared. He didn’t even care. She jerked away from him, tears spilling forth. It felt like her whole face was wet. Now free to move, she spun about. But she quickly realized the veracity of his words. The thief was nowhere to be seen, likely hiding already in a place Rose would never find. She buried her face in her hands. How? How could she have let this happen?
“Hush, darling,” Yusef started, a gentle hand back on her shoulder.
She shrugged him off, violently. “I needed that. I needed it! It was finished, I was delivering it, and… and my commission,” she cried, turning her head heavenward. The sky was dark and cloudy; she could see no stars, no moon. “I’ve lost my commission,” she whispered, the gravity of her situation slowly settling upon her, like a sheet floating to the ground from several stories up.
“It’s no matter,” he said. “You do not need it.”
Another man cleared his throat. Rose snapped her head in the direction to find another policeman, this one older than the one who’d help right the downed horse. He held the reins of another horse—a large, handsome beast—and a gentleman’s hat.
“Er, your mount, sir.” He extended the items to Yusef, a pained look of embarrassment on his face.
Yusef’s chest rose and fell as he took a breath, then reached for both the hat and reins with one hand. The policeman tipped his own hat and then escaped as quickly as possible. The other lollygaggers had finally lost interest as well, slowly making their way back to the pavement as the traffic lock untangled.
“I don’tneedit?” Rose seethed, wanting to scream at the top of her lungs. How could she have let her guard down? Why had she been so enraptured byhimthat she’d forgotten what mattered the most—her work? She’d been so blinded by him—beautiful, gorgeoushim—and his paltry attempt at basic decency that she’d been caught unawares.
Yusef’s face hardened, and he turned away, donning his hat. As he picked his jacket up off the horse’s saddle and pulled it on, he spoke, his voice still calm.
“I’m not attempting to belittle your skill or effort. It’s a low blow, losing something as precious as that.” He tugged forward on the jacket’s lapels, then smoothed out the sleeves. “However.” He turned and walked toward her with one hand out. Reaching for her.
