“Oh, sorry,” Sabina said hastily, and knelt down with the stone. She studied Blue Tunic a moment—she didn’t want to kill him, after all—and finally decided on a medium-strength blow just above the other ear. That took care of his muzzy efforts to get up, and Sabina rose to see if Vix needed any more help, but he seemed to have things well in hand. He’d dropped one thug with a cocked elbow into the throat followed by a knee up into the belly, then turned on the other two. He came at them with a snarl, teeth bared like a wolf, and suddenly they were both brushing past Sabina and stumbling up the street.

“He should have picked better friends,” Sabina observed.

“You think fast on your feet,” Vix panted. He cuffed blood off his lip: tall, tense, still taut with energy. “Thanks, Lady.”

“Don’t mention it.” She rose, tossing the loose stone away and feeling quite pleased with herself. “My first fight, and I dropped one all by myself. It’s been a good day.”

“Yes, it has,” Vix said, then crossed the cobbles in two long strides, shoved her up against a tenement wall, and began kissing her.

Well, that’s different. She’d been kissed before, of course—by Vix, for one, though they’d only been children; and more recently by a few of her suitors. Sabina had encouraged them, being immensely curious about the whole experience, but none of them had ever done more than brush their lips gently against hers and keep one mindful eye on the door to make sure her father wasn’t coming. Except for the one suitor whose understanding of the whole business had been to shove his tongue as far down her throat as possible, as if he were trying to find out what she’d eaten for dinner…

“You’re too damned small,” Vix growled in her ear, and lifted her up off her feet for better access. Sabina chuckled low in her throat, tipping her head back for him and winding her arms about his neck. She was half crushed between the hard wall and his hard chest, but the one was warm, so warm, as though his blood boiled a shade hotter than the ordinary. She felt his heart thudding against her breasts, and tasted the salty coppery tang from his split lip. She touched the back of his neck, tracing an unhurried circle with one fingertip, and Vix gave a muffled groan and started kissing his way down toward her shoulder. One rough hand twined through her hair, dislodging the wilted poppies.

“The idea—off my doorstep, you filthy things!” Light suddenly flooded the dark vestibule, and Sabina felt a sharp smack on the back of her head. Vix swore, and they both looked up at a housewife’s broad outraged face. “Thugs and trollops, disturbing decent people with your brawling and fornicating, the idea—”