Nero's Fiddle (41 page)

Lowestoft, Thursday 13
^th
February, 1862

ate could not contain Cara and as soon as the baby airship hovered above the ground she jumped and took off. She fled past startled retainers and ran into the transformed house. She paid no attention to Amy’s subtle decorating, her mind focused on only one task.

“Amy?” she called, hoping to catch a sound before she dashed in the wrong direction.

“Parlour,” a muffled voice replied.

She pushed through the doors to find a scene of domestic contentment. Amy curled up in front of the fire, needlework in her lap. Jackson sat in a wingchair with an open book.

“What the hell has been going on?” She levelled a finger at Nate’s second.

“Whatever are you talking about, doll?” Jackson said as he closed the book and set it down.

Amy parked the needle and dropped the fabric into a basket at her feet.

Cara brushed her jacket aside as Nate entered the room. He slipped a hand around her waist and removed her pistol from the hip holster. She shot him a scowl but turned back to her immediate target. “Loki said you were shagging my friend.” She nearly choked on the words; there was no way sweet, innocent Amy would do anything like that.

“Big mouth that one,” he said the corner of his mouth pulled up in a sneer.

Amy rose from her spot and moved to sit on the edge of Jackson’s chair, putting herself in the line of fire should Cara remember the gun nestled by her armpit.

Jackson wrapped his arm around Amy’s waist and pulled her close to his side. The smile on her face was wide enough to light the Tower of London.

“Oh, Amy. What have you done?” Cara shook her head, trying to fend off what she would hear next despite the obvious visual clues.

“All sorts of deliciously wanton things, actually.” She winked at Cara.

“How could you? You detest him.” How could she cosy up to the man she referred to as Nate’s dog? And how could she look so damned content about it, the woman positively glowed with happiness.

“I know he’s a gruff bugger.” Amy patted the protective arm around her body.

“Sitting right here, princess,” the cur in question growled.

“And Lachlan made such grand gestures. He painted the sheep pink and wrote my name on them. What Jack did by comparison was so small and inconsequential.” Another pat for the hound and her smile was bright enough to chase away the winter gloom and light the room.

“Still here and can still hear you,” Jackson said.

Cara hid a smile, she rather liked the way Amy breezed over Jackson’s objections, completely oblivious to how her comments sounded.

The words spilled from Amy in a gush, as though she could no longer contain them. “Then you all went away and left me alone with Jack and oh, the things that happened. Davie got injured and I rummaged in his gut and stitched him up, I saw a unicorn at the lake, Jack kissed me when I lost at chess and then after Hunter kidnapped me—”

“He what?” Cara lunged at Jackson but Nate held her back. “Did you know about this?” she asked of Nate as she struggled to break free.

“No, but it would appear Jackson dealt with it and Amy is unharmed,” he said as he pinned the hand reaching for her remaining pistol. He lifted it from the shoulder holster and put it on the side board with its matching companion.

She locked her sights on the henchman.

His arm tightened around Amy as though he were prepared to throw her behind him and take the hit. “Do you think I would ever let anyone hurt her?”

The air left her lungs in a rush. One look at the couple and she knew Amy was loved and protected. She certainly didn’t look any the worse for falling into the clutches of the local thug.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Oh yes. Being kidnapped was frightfully boring, but it gave me lots of time to think about my future. Then Jack rescued me and Lachlan blew the top off the pub.”

Cara kept looking from one to the other trying to absorb everything.

“My princess,” Jackson murmured and stroked a hand up Amy’s arm.

The woman looked like if she got any happier she would explode in a mess of pink paint and glitter all over the room. One segment of Amy’s recent history jumped at Cara’s curiosity more than the other events. “What do you mean you saw a unicorn?”

Amy held up her arm to show a horsehair bracelet. “When I came to Lowestoft, Jack gave me this bracelet made of unicorn tail. He’s looked out for me and made my wish come true.”

None of this made any sense, except that the gruff ex-boxer really was a crème brûlée. She tried to stay impartial and weigh his pros and cons. She knew he was only a few years older than Nate. Not really old at all, but the loss of his family weighed him down. He had proven his loyalty over and over and she could not fault him there. Nate paid him well, but he spent little, so he had a nest egg hidden away. Plus, he came with the house by the lake. He was a man of worth and life taught her they came in all sorts of guises.

Helene asked her to find him a creature of light and joy. Who better to redecorate his life than Amy? They could have kept her abreast of developments though. She needed every little detail, starting from the beginning. She couldn’t change events, so she would just have to make the best of the situation. As a bonus, she had never seen Amy so ecstatic.

“As long as you are happy,” she said at last.

Amy squealed and leapt up to hug Cara. “Thank you for understanding.”

Jackson lifted his hands in surrender. “Just don’t shoot me again. It happened; how could I resist when my angel sent me a princess to open the windows in my soul?”

Amy frowned and looked from her lover to her best friend. “Yes, don’t shoot him. I don’t give my permission for that sort of nonsense. Jack has quite the gooey centre under that tough exterior. He would leak all over the new carpets.”

“Huh!” Cara pointed a finger. “Told you.” She felt vindicated about her assessment of her former minder. She plonked herself down on the sofa. “So what are your intentions to my friend, now that you’ve debauched her?”

“I’d make an honest woman of her, if she would let me.” His attention never strayed from Amy as she returned to him.

Amy swatted him on the arm. “One day. I shall revel in being scandalous first.”

“If you have children eventually and it’s a boy, would you call him Jackson Jackson Junior?” Nate asked, his voice impassive; but laughter ricocheted along their bond.

Cara smirked, poor child if they lumbered him with such a moniker. One hand dropped to her stomach at the talk of children and family. Perhaps offspring wouldn’t be so bad after all? Then the tiny voice in the back of her head warned they soon would have to face the Curator. She would have to confront her past and peel back her father’s association with the rival artifact collector. Ice slithered down her spine and sucked the humour from her bones. When she thought of her future, she saw only a void―cold and empty.

Nate placed a hand on her shoulder and the moment passed.

“Time to celebrate, I think,” Nate said as he picked up the bottle of champagne from the cradle. “New beginnings, for all of us. I have a new assignment from Victoria to add to our other duties.”

“Yes.” Cara took a deep breath. The unnatural cold of London could wait a few more days. “You need to tell me what exactly has been going on out here. Every tiny sordid detail.”

She fixed on the metal bucket. She moved to hand Nate glasses and when he finished pouring, she slid a finger along the rim of the cooler before curling her grip around the edge. “Although we must watch the champagne doesn’t go to Jackson’s head.”

I couldn’t have done this without Rob and the boys, who consider it normal dinner time conversation to discuss the best ways to kill people. As always, thank you to the CQ family for your continuing support and encouragement.

My novels are not strict historical but history with a steampunk twist so please don’t shoot me for deviating from the known timeline. Liberty’s Department store didn’t open until 1870 but its floors are crammed with exotic goods like a London version of Aladdin Cave’s and I’m sure Cara would shop there. Cleopatra’s Needle was gifted to Britain in 1819 but no one could figure out how to get it there until 1877. I sped the process up by using airships, because nothing else seemed fitting to have Loki chained at the base! Catherine Walters aka Skittles was a real person and one of the last great Victorian courtesans. She is a pin up girl in the sidesaddle community and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to orchestrate a meeting between her and Cara. If you are interested in further reading, you can learn more about her in the biography
Skittles: The last Victorian Courtesan
by Henry Blyth or
Courtesans
by Katie Hickman.