“I need to go home,” I said. “Parents might have something to say about your coat,” he said, catching hold of the embroidered edge of my cloak and pulling me in. I struggled a bit, but he simply wrapped his arms around me. “Hush. I’m not trying anything. You worried me, that’s all. Trust me, Mous...
I opened my eyes to see snowy linen stretched out in front of me, a marble-topped table with a glass of water. Through the window, the brightly lit revelry of the French Quarter at night was visible through wavery glass. And then I was abruptly aware of an arm, draped heavily over me, fingers wra...