Maybe Kit picked the wrong guide for this job.
”Okay,” Margo sighed. “I screwed up again. It’s my fault, I admit it But I am here to learn. So show me.”
He found it increasingly difficult to remain firm with her. “All right. This time, follow my directions.”
Malcolm was tempted to make her retrace her steps and follow the route he’d given her. Instead, he deliberately took her through a maze of narrow, cramped side streets that wandered in zigzags up and down Rome’s hills and valleys, just to underscore the lesson in paying attention. They finally emerged on the Via Ostiensis near the Ostian Gate. He led her back north again, to the place. where he’d meant for her to leave the Ostian Way, where they should have circled the Aventine Hill. By the time they reached the inn, Malcolm’s shoulders ached
”You’re late,” the Time Tours employee said sourly, glancing at Malcolm for an explanation as he checked off their names against his master list.
”Object lesson,” Malcolm said shortly, offering no further excuses. He retreated to their assigned room and dropped their luggage to the tiled floor then sat down on a wooden bed frame, not even bothering to locate the rolled-up bedding first. He could feel the pull of tired muscles from his neck to the middle of his back. When Margo came in, she caught him working his shoulders in circles. Her face flamed again.
”Are you hurt?”
Contrite as a child, now that the damage was done. He studied her silently. She was biting her lower lip. Malcolm had forgotten how very young eighteen was, with its mixture of invincible assuredness, fragile emotions, and the desperate need to be taken seriously even when caught in complete ignorance.