Lady Doctor Wyre (10 page)

“My father rose up to protect me. He picked up a shard of some priceless vase she’d destroyed in her rampage and slit her throat with it. Then he killed himself out of shame.”

Sig paused for breath. His damaged heart thumped painfully in his chest, his breathing loud and labored, but Masters didn’t make a sound. “I’ve done many things I regret, Sheriff, but my greatest regret is that I didn’t kill my mother in order to save my father. He died to save me, and nobody will die to save me ever again.”

Stirring, Masters turned slightly, as though he meant to say something, but Sig couldn’t bear the man’s compassion. He still had things to say that were too important to brush away, especially if they were ever to work out an arrangement with Charlie. “I don’t know how many years I was forced to watch, helpless and bound, but eventually, I came to enjoy it. I needed those ropes to hold me back from murdering my own mother. I could hate her, rage at her in my mind, but I couldn’t do anything about it, and that wasn’t my fault, because I was tied up. It took away my choice…and my responsibility.

“I couldn’t help my father because I was bound, which made me helpless but also blameless. When he killed her, I felt such…relief. I couldn’t have stopped him. I couldn’t have helped him. I had no choice but to sit there and let it happen, and it felt so…wonderful. I was free of her, but also free of the guilt of her death. Until my father took his own life too. When I kill now, it’s
my
choice. It’s my guilt and my regret. When Charlie takes me…”

Masters went rigid, every sense suddenly on full alert.

“I need her to take away my choice and responsibility. Whatever happens is
her
responsibility,
her
choice. I need it that way, and I’ve only ever allowed
her
to take that choice from me.”

“Are you telling me that she ties you up when you…when she…”

She usually nearly kills me too.
But he didn’t think Masters was quite ready to hear that little tidbit, so he simply replied, “Yes.”

“I see.” Masters rolled his palms back and forth on the railing without releasing the metal or turning to see whatever expression might be on his face. “She didn’t reveal any need like that with me.”

Sig shrugged. “I don’t know that
she
needs it, although she enjoys it well enough for my sake.” The other man lowered his shoulders, as though a great weight bore down upon him, restlessly twisting his hands on that metal, turmoil twisting his face into a grimace. Carefully, he tried to add an explanation without insulting or offending the man. “She must have needed you, too, or she wouldn’t have taken you to her bed. In all the years I’ve known her, she’s never taken another lover.”

“But what did she
need
from me, then?” Masters jerked upright to pace the deck. “I didn’t give her anything out of the ordinary, certainly nothing like what you must share with her.”

Sig remembered his first glimpse of her that night as he’d quietly stolen into her house through the back door. The sheriff had just left, and she stared into space, her mouth soft and luscious, her skin glowing with warmth. “Perhaps she simply needed to be…held. With gentleness and tenderness. That’s hard for me to give when I’m tied up. I saw her right after you left, and she looked…
happy
. I knew, then, that’d she’d never leave with me.”

Masters made a noncommittal sound. “You’re forgetting one very important thing, Dandy.”

Sig arched an eyebrow and pulled out a knife to dance across his fingers. “Hmmm?”

“She’d made a pot of tea that night.”

His mouth twitched. He tried not to laugh, but the more he thought about her sipping that damned cup of tea throughout their discussion, the louder he chuckled. He finally ended up bracing himself on the railing while the two of them laughed until his stomach hurt. Finally, he straightened and wiped his eyes. “That’s the secret to our success, Masters. I’ll ask her to tie me up, and you make the tea.”

Masters shook his hand so hard it made him wince. “It’s a deal.”

Chapter Nine

Straightening, Lady Wyre slipped off the now-greasy gloves she’d worn to protect her manicure. For the past week, she’d been tinkering with every engine and electronic device in the employ of Americus defenses, and had managed to coax the space port shield originally installed by Britannia to cover most of the Capital. Of course, the problem of
powering
the shield still remained, but she had provided them with some interesting possibilities.

Off to the west lay a gigantic bubbling pot of magma forming a supervolcano that boiled the region’s lakes and streams into magnificent geysers. President Jaxson had dispatched her most intrepid inventors to see if they could tap that natural resource. By Charlotte’s calculations, enough steam and boiling water was contained in Yellowstone to power the entire planet.

She’d welcomed the work as well as the distraction, for Sig’s locket weighed heavier and heavier against her heart. She knew he was close, but he and Masters had managed to evade authorities, so they had no way of knowing that the President had pardoned them of all wrongdoing. As each hour passed and they didn’t come to her side, she became terribly afraid she might have accidentally locked them out of the city.

The engineer stared doubtfully at his precious engine. “Are you sure this will help?”

“You’ve added so much armor that you might as well call him
Ironsides
, but neglected to add enough power to the engines in order to compensate for that extra load. In addition, an engine of this size requires a great deal of fuel, which again, you don’t have. Until I can send you a modified engine based on my nanotechnology, the best way to increase your speed is to reduce friction and increase fuel efficiency.” Noting President Jaxson’s arrival in her new gown, Charlotte smiled and added, “Always make the most of what you have, whether in clothing or in warships.”

Since Jaxson possessed a tall and stately posture, Charlotte had helped her pick a simple high-waisted gown that highlighted those long lines without a single ruffle, bringing more to mind a willow than a stark, rough tree. An emerald-colored velvet ribbon about the bodice emphasized her brilliant eyes while adding color to the simple white linen shot with delicate silver threads. Tiny pearls lined the neck, small puff sleeves, and more heavily, the hem of the gown. Liberal skin cream and face powder had softened that rough skin and smoothed her complexion.

When she returned Charlotte’s smile hesitantly, President Jaxson turned into a stately, beautiful woman. “Are you sure white is the best choice?”

“You rose to power through the military ranks, did you not, Madame?” At the President’s nod, Charlotte continued. “When one goes to battle, there are many nuances that can help decide the outcome long before a single weapon is fired. For instance, if an army advances with ragged lines in shoddy uniforms, then you can only assume their weaponry is just as ill-kept. Similarly, if you’re outmanned or outgunned, then you find a way to draw the enemy in closer, at a site of your choosing that puts them at a disadvantage.”

“But of course,” Jaxson said as they paced down the teaming docks. Workers scaled the towering heights of the large cruiser, polishing his hull and fine-tuning his sensors. An artist was busy at work painting the finishing touches of a new symbol on the prow: a white-headed eagle gripping lightning bolts that ran down the sides of the ship. “Yet I fail to see how a white gown will put Americus in an advantageous light for tonight’s address.”

Every Solstice, Queen Majel transmitted a speech to all the known worlds of the galaxy with enough technology to receive her signal. On the assimilated worlds of the Empire, the broadcast of her speech to all conquered peoples was required, aired by every technological beacon and ship remaining behind to ensure the peace. It had become a tradition for the more technologically advanced planets to transmit images of their royals preparing their corresponding Solstice party, and for the leaders to converse however briefly with the Queen, if she were so inclined.

Even before their revolution, the Americus colony had never dared respond in kind.

“What do debutantes wear to their first ball, Madame President?”

Jaxson immediately answered, “White, which is my point. I don’t want to appear weak or innocent before Her Majesty.”

“Oh, but you do.” Charlotte quirked her mouth at the sound of disgruntled alarm from the other woman. “Americus is a debutante in this Imperial ball. By wearing white, you are subtly honoring that age-old tradition, showing that you are cultured and seasoned enough in the ways of Society to be clothed properly for a lady of your station. Majel always wears black and gold, her trademark colors. White is fresh and original, and definitely more innocent against the black feathers of the Queen’s Ravens.”

“While I have the fierce eagle to defend against her crows,” President Jaxson said with a satisfied gleam in her eyes.

Charlotte preened. “Exactly. The eagle will tear her crows apart.”

“And will your gift for Queen Majel arrive in time?”

Now that had been some fine work if Charlotte did say so herself. “Why don’t we take a look?” It’d been challenging to find a reticule that was large enough for her new and improved datapad without looking like a sad sack of potatoes against her silk—this one sapphire blue to match Sig’s eyes—but the powerful datapad fit inside the peacock beaded bag perfectly. She tracked the schooner headed for Londonium. “It docked at Thames in the past half hour and is currently moving through customs. Not to worry, I’m sure many other gifts for Queen Majel are arriving and they’ll make sure to have everything available for the presentation.”

President Jaxson stared down at the image of a large gilded birdcage and the eagle trapped within. “Are you sure the bird will be unharmed? I’d hate to see it injured or killed just to provide a subtle but telling message to Queen Majel.”

Charlotte touched her locket and the sharp surge of energy made her suck in a deep breath. Sig had to be close, surely within the city. The constant buzzing from the locket nearly drove her insane.
Where the hell are you?

“I used some very advanced technology on that bird, Madame President. The last of it, truth be told, until I have time to set up a new laboratory. But I promise that this eagle is going to be very difficult to kill. As soon as it delivers its message, the eagle should soar out of Londonium, return to your schooner, and be headed back toward Americus before the Queen even knows what has happened.”

Meanwhile, if everything went according to plan, Charlotte would be setting sail in the opposite direction as quickly as possible. She wrapped her hand around the locket, a subtle message to her men if they were watching somewhere. Power zinged to her elbow and her fingers burned.
Please, be safe. Come back to me. Both of you.

Concealed behind a stack of crates, Sig watched the two ladies walk amicably through the space port. By all accounts, Lady Wyre had made a most winning impression on the President of Americus.
And Masters thought she might be afraid.

Masters had been right to worry that she might be in danger. Sig noted two men dressed in the nondescript clothes of the working class peel away from the shadowed hull of the nearby schooner and quietly trail the two ladies. Too busy flirting with Lady Wyre, the black-clad marshals were oblivious, Sig noted with disgust.

He caught Masters’s attention—who slouched drunkenly over his ale just inside the nearby tavern—and by the scowl on the man’s face, he knew the marshals would have been on the receiving end of those big fists if Masters were in charge of them. Sig made his way over to the table but didn’t sit down.

“Runners?” Masters whispered into his ale. “Or bounty hunters?”

“No way to know,” Sig replied. “They’re dressed like the man you met in York. What was he?”

“A rebel from Kali Kata.”

“Could they be part of this alliance you’re trying to build against Britannia?”

Masters shook his head slightly and pushed to his feet, wavering and blearily rubbing his eyes. “I’ve never seen them before. Could be, I suppose, but my gut says they’re Runners. If so, the Ravens won’t be far behind.”

“See if Laffite has any word of an Imperial cruiser nearby. I have a very bad feeling about this.”

Masters gave a jerky nod and wavered out into the main thoroughfare. “Meet you at the ball.”

Sig waited until Masters stumbled in the opposite direction, and then he followed Charlie, using the shadows and crates to stay out of sight of the four men trailing the ladies. Security at the Solstice Masquerade would be tight, but with masks and costumes, it would be nigh impossible for anyone to identify Lord Regret and the wanted traitor Sheriff Masters.

Hopefully these Runners would have as difficult a time procuring an invitation as Sig. He’d finally begged Laffite’s counterfeiter to make a passable match, and now, even the pirate was coming to the masquerade ball.

The second marshal suddenly disappeared. If Sig hadn’t been watching carefully, he wouldn’t have even seen the flash of black as the man fell back into a darkened alley. Charlotte heard something, for she turned her head, a frown on her lovely face. “Mr. Colt? Where’d he go?”

On the move, Sig slipped closer while keeping undercover. He needed to be as close as possible in case they were Runners. They’d be armed with tazors, lazors, and God only knew what other weapons Queen Majel might have sent to ensure her doctor was recovered.

The plain-dressed man stepped out into the main thoroughfare with a long, black cane in his hand, topped with a raven with outstretched wings.

Bloody hell
, Sig growled beneath his breath.
Runner. They’ve found her.

Homing to the black cane, soldiers advanced on Lady Wyre in a wide arc. Men and women alike, dressed in black body-armor emblazoned with the golden insignia of Britannia. Screams erupted through the space port as dock workers fled or were killed for being in the way.

Worse, they were between her and Sig, a noose slipping around her neck.