The pressure on my windpipe precluded a gasp, much less a scream, but the attack was over in the space of a heartbeat. Even as I flailed for the mace I carried in my pocket, the assailant was already backing away. The arm dropped from my throat and I heard a sharp intake of breath. Then incredulously, “Amelia?”

Devlin.

I was so gobsmacked by his nearness, I couldn’t utter a word. It had been months since I’d last seen him, but he’d visited my sleep nearly every night of our estrangement. Those dark, lush dreams allowed me to play out my every fantasy about him, but now I realized what a pale substitute the visions had been. Even with him standing there looking down at me so warily, I could think of little more than how much I still craved his touch. How much I’d missed his kisses.

“Are you all right?” he asked quickly.

Oh, that voice! That low, silky, old-world drawl that would always be my undoing.

I swallowed with some difficulty. “Yes, I think so.”

“What on earth are you doing out here? And why didn’t you say something? I might have hurt you.” He sounded a bit rattled himself.

“You didn’t give me a chance,” I said defensively. “Do you always grab people without reason?”

“I had a reason. I was visiting a friend and we thought we heard someone in the garden.”

“You mean a prowler?” How completely innocent I sounded.

There was a curious hesitation, then, “Yes, a prowler. I circled around to head him off.” He glanced past me up the alley. “You didn’t see anyone come out of here, did you?”

I shook my head as my heart continued to hammer.

“What about on the street? Did you notice anyone lurking about?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

His gaze was still on me, dark and probing. “Your turn, then. What are you doing here?”

“I…was just on my way home from the market.” Lamely, I held up my shopping bag.