Of Silk and Steam (2 page)

That, and the almost-kiss…

That moment when they’d been trapped in a darkened room together and he’d leaned closer, blood thumping through his veins as he realized that what he saw in her dark eyes wasn’t denial.

She’d turned away from the kiss, allowing him to make a fool of himself before she took back control, but for a moment there had been something more between them. A lazy, liquid trembling in the air. Need.

She’d wanted to give in. He knew it. He just had to push her to that point again.

Leo stepped forward, and she swiftly thumbed the hammer back. He took another slow step, pressing the muzzle of the pistol directly against his chest. Their eyes met. “If you were going to pull the trigger, you’d have done it years ago.”

She’d been his nemesis since the moment they met, but it wasn’t hate that existed between them. Not anymore. He couldn’t quite define the emotion, but it certainly wasn’t hate, no matter how much she tried to pretend it was.

Fascination, on his behalf. A certain dangerous temptation to dip his fingers into the fire to see how hotly it burned, which was foolishness of the worst kind. If he clicked his fingers, a dozen young debutantes would come flocking to his side, offering him everything he desired. Or almost everything… For the one thing he wanted, above all else, was glaring rather fiercely at him over the top of the pistol.

“You shouldn’t be so certain,” she said.

“But if you shot me, who else would try to seduce you?”

“You think I enjoy your attentions?”

A smile. “I think…that no one else dares. And, yes, I think that you enjoy every second of them. Who else would argue with you over Council sessions so vociferously? And don’t tell me you don’t enjoy that, because nothing else fires your blood so.” He leaned closer, his breath whispering along her jaw. “It’s the only time you get that look in your eye… You enjoy arguing with me, and you like the fact that I chase you. A part of me thinks you
want
to be caught.”

A small growl of exasperation sounded in her throat. The pistol wavered. “You drive me insane. You’re a hindrance, nothing else.”

Leo reached out and brushed a blond curl off her heart-shaped face—it was a wig, he guessed. Mina jerked away from his touch, but the pulse in her throat leaped. It was beating hard; she was not quite as immune to him as she claimed.

Closing a hand over the pistol, he forced it to lower, meeting her eyes again. “You won’t shoot me. You’d miss me too much.”

“Your arrogance was once amusing, Barrons, but it’s becoming decidedly less so.”

Ignoring the arctic chill in her tone, he smiled. “
Did
you miss me, Mina? Did you think of me whilst I was gone this past month?”

“I didn’t even spare you a thought.” Her eyes smoldered.

“
Liar
.”

They stared at each other, at an impasse.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked, tucking the pistol back within her sleeve. It was one of those mechanical-draw ones he’d heard about. “I know it wasn’t to protect me.”

“Perhaps I was curious. Midnight chimes, and you slip away into the darkness—to Lovers’ Lane, of all places.” He’d been watching her all night, slipping through the crowd as she sipped her champagne, both of them strolling clockwise around the circle of dancers; only, she had been unaware of the eyes upon her. Content, perhaps, to think her disguise complete enough to fool all watchers.

The only person she would never fool was Leo. Too many years spent dreaming of her, of that slim, upright figure, with her dangerously elegant grace. Nobody should ever mistake her for a human, not with the way she moved, but apparently they did.

“Is that where we are?”

“You know where we are.” His voice lowered. “What was in the note?”

Stillness pervaded her body. Another riot of fireworks tore apart the velvet sky. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Mina.” He stroked her chin. “Don’t pretend I’m in any way stupid.”

“You have been on occasion.” Her eyes flashed fire, and he knew she was thinking of the almost-kiss. Of how she’d lured him in, then proved her point with a knife.

Leo leaned toward her, tipping her painted mouth up to his. Then paused. Her breath wet his lips. “But I’m never foolish twice.”

“No?”

He caught her hand as it flipped a jeweled knife toward him. He spun her around, slamming her back against his chest and closing his other hand around her throat. The press of her bustle against his thighs eased with a soft shushing noise, a sensuous little whisper in the night. The pearls at her throat pressed into his palm, and he could feel the sudden thumping beat of her pulse against his fingertips. Every inch of her body was still. Not beaten. Never that. He had no doubt she was planning her next move, but he’d shocked her for a moment.

If he could keep her off balance and take his own measure of revenge for that long-ago not-kiss…

“Perhaps I wanted to see who you were meeting with,” he whispered, his lips tracing her throat. He eased the pressure of his hand and felt her draw a breath. Leo edged the back of his fingers lower, brushing over her breasts and the rough gold lace that contained them. “Perhaps I don’t want you meeting men in the dark of Lovers’ Lane.” Teeth brushed against the tender skin where her shoulder met her neck. “Not unless they’re me.”

A breathy laugh. “They’ll never be you.”

“No?” The back of one fingernail rasped over her tightening nipple. The duchess stiffened in his arms. “Do you think this cold act scares me away? Like all the others?”

“What makes you think it’s an act?”

He stroked her hardened nipple, and her breath caught. “That. You’re not immune to me.”

“Your father killed mine. If you think I shall ever forget—”

“Who are you trying to remind?”

He could sense the uncertainty vibrating through her. Gently, he pressed his lips against the delicate skin behind her ear, touching his tongue to it, just to taste. Blood and glory, she smelled good. A blue blood had no personal scent, but her perfume was pure spice, something direct from the Orient. It went straight to his head…and other places.

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“Ask me nicely,” he replied, trailing his lips down her neck and onto the sensitive skin of her shoulder. The duchess shivered, and a smile curved over his mouth.

“Get your hands off me, or I shall—”

Her words broke off as he suckled her skin hard, bringing the blood to the surface. A good thing he didn’t have his blood-letting knife, or he had a feeling he’d have it in hand already. His cock hardened at the thought, the world darkening as the hunger rose in him.

She felt his hunger rise. She had to. The duchess stilled in his arms, her fingers curling over his sleeve. Such a small touch, but it rocked through him, lifting all the fine hairs along his arm.

She’d never touched him before. Not on purpose.

Leo looked away, breathing hard. Devil take her, but if her purpose was distraction, then she was winning. Or perhaps he was the one who’d distracted them both, so intent on tasting her, on touching her… He looked up at the figure fading into the distance, the unknown man she’d exchanged a note with. Something dark flickered to life within him. Rationally, he knew she wasn’t his; instinctively, he wanted to challenge the bastard to a duel. “Or you shall…what? Usually such statements are followed with threats.”

Fireworks went off again, the sound of laughter and joyful screaming echoing through the night. It sounded so far away. Another crack from the fireworks. This time there were no accompanying lights…

She said something. He wasn’t listening. That last exploding crack hadn’t sounded like fireworks.

Leo’s eyes locked on the figure in the distance, now fallen to his hands and knees. The same man he’d been thinking murderous thoughts about but a second ago. Dark shapes formed out of the shadows around the fellow. Another crack, swallowed up by a lady’s delighted squeal. Then a flash of light, like that of a pistol firing in the darkness.

“
Bloody
hell
.” His arms tightened around her. “Mina.”

“Let me go!” She staggered out of his grasp, clapping a hand to her lips in shock.

Leo snapped up the sword-cane he’d leaned against the hedge when he first arrived. “Stay here,” he told her. “I’ll see if he’s still alive.”

One stride and a hand clamped around his wrist, jerking him off balance. “No. He’s already dead.”

“You don’t know that—”

“Yes, I do,” she hissed, her fingers tightening on his wrist. “We need to get out of here.”

Leo pressed her back into the shadows, using his body to muscle her against the tall hedge as he peered down the dark path. “What do you know?”

What a bloody fool he’d been, thinking the icy duchess had been meeting a stranger for illicit pleasures. She never did anything unplanned. Or for pleasure.

The note. This had something to do with that damned note.

The duchess hesitated.

“What do you
know
?” he repeated in a steely voice that dared her to argue with it.

“Those men aren’t thieves or murderers,” she replied. “They’re Falcons.”

The prince consort’s elite assassins and spies. Leo searched her gaze. He was right. This hadn’t been just a rendezvous, then. “Who was he?”

Her chin tipped up.

“Consider very carefully that I might be the only thing standing between you and them in a minute,” he growled under his breath. Her eyes shot toward the fallen man at her feet. “If they’re Falcons, Mina, they won’t leave witnesses. And if this killing has anything to do with that note—”

“They’ll come after me next.”

“Yes,” he breathed. “You need my help. But I won’t give it without answers.”

After another tense stalemate, she let out her breath and dropped her gaze. “It was Goethe,” she whispered. “The Duke of Goethe.”

The blood drained out of his face.

“Is the prince consort mad?” Barrons hissed, tugging her deeper into the shadows of the hedge. He leaned down and tilted the unconscious man’s head to the side, gloved fingers sliding through the man’s hair, searching for the tattoo all Falcons wore.

“That theory is entirely plausible,” Mina replied, keeping an eye on the shadows in the distance. Goethe’s death was a bucket of icy water to the face, one she still hadn’t quite recovered from. “He hasn’t been entirely rational since winter, when word of the vaccination was released.”

It had been a challenge to the control the prince consort had wielded over the entire Echelon with his own “cure,” a mechanical device that filtered the craving virus from a blue blood’s body and lowered the individual’s CV percentages for several months. Blue bloods would have given him their souls for the use of it. Only now they didn’t have to.

Barrons suddenly swore, and Mina looked down sharply to see that the Falcon—far from being unconscious—had grabbed his shirt collar and was striking up with a knife. Barrons turned it, gritting his teeth and using his weight to slam it down into the man’s chest. The Falcon’s breath exhaled…then his hand fell to the ground.

Their eyes met. “He recognized you anyway,” Barrons murmured. “Best this way.”

She nodded slowly.

Light gleamed on a knife in the distance, and Goethe’s body jerked as the assassins started cutting out his heart. Bile rose in her throat. Could she have done anything? It had taken seconds; there was no way she could have crossed the space in that time, and her pistol’s range was limited, but perhaps…

No, there was nothing she could have done. Useless. Just like she’d been when her father was poisoned.

“Found the tattoo. He’s a Falcon. There will be more nearby.” Barrons slipped a knife from the man’s coat and flung it away. The gaslight nearby shattered, plunging them into complete darkness.

“What are you doing? They’ll hear that.”

“Do you honestly believe they’re not aware of us? You were watched from the moment you left that rotunda. They simply don’t consider you a threat at the moment, but I’ll hazard a guess that they’ll have men watching the gates. It’s how they work. They’ll take you when you try to leave.”

“How do we get out, then? I can hardly climb the walls in this.” A twitch of her skirts. She shot a look down the dark lane, her heart leaping into her throat. “They’ve vanished. The body too.”

Barrons looked at her. “Do you trust me?”

“No.” His father would have cut her down without thinking, but Barrons was an enigma. If he were a different man, she would have enjoyed his attentions, but a part of her couldn’t help wondering if his pursuit of her was just a way to get closer, to slip the knife in when she least expected it…

Could she trust that he meant her no harm?

His hand tightened around hers, dark heat sweeping through his irises. He focused on her so intently that she could almost feel it on her skin. “Then let us call a temporary truce for tonight. I shall help you escape. In return…”

“Yes?”

His voice roughened. “I want a kiss.”

A
kiss.
Tension slid sinuously along her limbs, each muscle clenching. Those motives she could certainly understand. It didn’t mean she had to like them.

Wariness spread through her as he lifted his hand and slowly, carefully brushed the back of his fingers against her lips. She didn’t flinch. Instead she tipped her chin up and glared him down. “Help me escape and I shall grant you such a liberty.” What harm could a single kiss do? “Until then”—she took a step back, her skirts swishing around her ankles—“I’ll thank you to keep your hands to yourself.”

His hand dropped but the ghostly sensation of that touch lingered, reminding her that it had been a long time since she’d been touched in any way intimately, and never like this. Never…soft. Full of gentleness, as if the very sensation of her skin beneath his was a pleasure in itself, not merely a step to greater satisfaction.

He was far more dangerous than she’d ever suspected, and she’d known, since the first moment she’d met him, that he was dangerous indeed. He was the only man who had ever managed to make her feel something.

“Agreed.” Barrons tilted his head in a nod.

“However, there’s something I must do first.”

“Oh?”

“I need that note.” Her heart hammered a little faster. Not because of Barrons. Of course not. If the prince consort got his hands on that note and decoded it, Goethe wouldn’t be the only one who died. She had given in to her queen and delivered the note although she knew how foolish it was. This was as much her fault as the queen’s. All along she’d known how dangerous it was to let one’s emotions hold sway. From now on, let cold, hard reason be her guide.

“A suicide mission,” Barrons said flatly.

“The nail in my coffin if I don’t get it back.”

For a moment she thought he’d refuse. Then his black eyes narrowed, his voice turning soft and smoky. “
That
is going to cost you considerably more than a kiss.”

A part of her was almost tempted to pay his price… But she hadn’t clawed her way up through the Echelon and held on to her duchy by giving in to her desires. “And the price?”

For a moment she thought his silence was the answer. It let her conjure up all manner of demands. Let her imagine them in explicit, nipple-hardening detail.

“I want to see your breasts,” he said finally.

“I thought you wanted me in your bed.”

“I do. But you will come of your own accord—”

Mina let out a rough laugh. “Never,” she whispered defiantly. “Now come. We’re wasting time.”

He caught her upper arm. “I’ll have your word first. Let’s just say I trust you as much as you trust me.”

“But you trust my word?”

“Once given.”

Damn him. “If you help me retrieve the note, I’ll allow you your intimacies for ten minutes. You will not touch me. Nor will you allow others to see me in such a state.”

“Slight amendment. I believe there should be some touching allowed. Agreed?”

She needed him and he knew it. Though a part of her was tempted to slap the smile off his face. “Agreed,” she replied through clenched teeth.

* * *

Mina played a most excellent damsel in distress.

Sobbing into her hands, she ran through the gardens, crashing directly into a hard chest. Hands came up to steady her.

“What have we here?”

She looked up into the face of a Falcon. There was no mistaking the hard edge in his eyes or the complete lack of empathy there. “Please, sir,” she stammered. “It’s so awful! I saw a man die!”

“Did you now?” His voice roughened, excitement gleaming in his eyes. “That’s a pity—”

Barrons hit him from behind. A slim stiletto to the base of his neck, directly severing a pair of vertebrae. The Falcon went down with a strangled gurgle, his eyes bulging. It was a silent death. No kicking or fighting. Somehow more efficient than anything she’d ever seen before.

Removing his blade, Barrons tucked it back up his sleeve, bending to rifle the man’s pockets. This was the second one they’d killed. His hands patted the fellow’s waistcoat, then paused, coming up with the waxed note. “Is this—” He saw her expression and smiled grimly. “I’ll assume that’s a yes.”

Mina stepped forward, shedding her submissive persona. Her heart thumped into her throat. “Give it to me.”

He yanked it out of reach and stood. “Let’s not be hasty. You promised me a kiss.”

“Now is not the time.” She spared a look around. There was movement nearby.

“No, it’s not. And until that time”—the note vanished into the inner pocket of his coat—“I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Barrons!”

“Not here.” He grabbed her wrist, dragging her behind a hedge. “I count three men,” he whispered in her ear. “And I’m not quite good enough to handle three. Run, Mina. And don’t argue. I’ll draw them away.”

She hadn’t gotten where she was by foolishness. Mina grabbed her skirts and bolted into the darkness, her slippered feet light on the graveled path. Few had been able to catch her as a girl, and she was no less fleet of foot now.

A stranger materialized out of nowhere. Mina ducked beneath his arm, but some last snatch of his hand caught in her skirts and she found herself ensnared. Arms locked around her chest, and her feet were lifted off the ground. She wasted no time. She cracked her head backward, feeling the impact of his nose at the base of her skull. The man screamed, his arms loosening, and Mina struck with an elbow to the throat, followed by the chop of her hand for good measure as he dropped her. Her pistol sprang into her hand, and she shoved it in his face just as Barrons swung a kick into the back of the bastard’s knee.

The Falcon caught Barrons’s leg as they went down and Mina cursed, jerking her pistol up as both of the men rolled.

“He was mine,” she snapped.

“My apologies.” Barrons grunted as a kick struck him in the thigh.

The Falcon spun, blood streaming from his nose as he whipped Mina’s feet out from beneath her with an ankle. She hit the ground, hearing several scuffling blows, a grunt, and then…silence. Mina rolled to her feet. Barrons was there, bleeding a little, from the scent of it. Their eyes met and Mina felt the rush of hunger as her mouth dampened.

“Thought you had it in hand,” he said with a bland expression.

That roused her ire as she choked back the heat of the hunger, leaving little more than a ragged burn in her throat. No other man ever got beneath her skin like this one. “I thought
you
were creating a diversion.”

“I tried. They’re not interested in me. It’s your perfume,” he said, stepping closer and offering her a hand. “They’re tracking the scent.”

Some cheap concoction she’d worn to complete her disguise. She could barely smell it anymore, but she knew others would be able to. A blue blood’s senses were too superior, but she’d never expected to be on the run for her life tonight. “You believe the rumors, then? That the prince consort is infecting his Falcons with the craving virus?” A highly illegal act.

“Obviously. I have an idea of how to counteract the scent, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

She didn’t trust the sudden gleam in his eyes, but she was hardly a fool. “Do your worst.”

Barrons smiled.

Half a minute later, she was shivering from the cold, her mouth opening in shock as water rose over her breasts to her chin. It filled her petticoats, sinking her farther and causing a sudden surge of panic to rise. Clamping her teeth together, Mina dug her fingers into the brickwork under the bridge and drove her whole body beneath the water of the canal.

The bridge above her blocked out even the moon, plunging her into darkness. Slowly she let herself float up, breaking the surface inch by silent inch as she listened.

Barrons had disappeared over the bridge with her dress, leading the perfumed scent away. She could still feel the echo of his fingers on her body as he’d tugged her out of it.

A stealthy footstep landed on the bridge above her. Mina stopped breathing. Could she trust him? Leaving her here would be an excellent distraction if he wanted to escape.

Another slow, almost
listening
step.

“This way,” a man murmured. “I can smell her.”

The rumors were correct, then. The prince consort had supernaturally strong assassins at his beck and call.

The footsteps died and Mina ducked back under the water, leaving only her face clear of its icy depths.

Something sleek splashed nearby.

She had her knife in hand before she could think. Barrons surfaced in front of her, his dark blond hair wet and dripping, raked back from his forehead. Rivulets of water ran down his skin, hovering in the dip above his darkly smiling mouth.

“You’re taking far too much enjoyment from this.” Her lips quivered with the cold.

He flashed her another smile, his teeth gleaming in the night.

“Want to have more fun?” she asked.

He swam closer, pressing up against her as his arms trapped her against the wall. She could feel every hard inch of his body locked against hers, leaving her frightfully aware of just how little she wore.

“What kind of fun?”

She wasn’t going to be tempted. Not even for a moment. “Lord Matheson arrived in a pleasure dirigible. A grand entrance to awe the masses.” Her tone told him what she thought of that. “It’s currently moored by the eastern gates, along with two attendants. I could distract them while you cut the tethers. It’s the easiest way out of here without going through the gates and risking further interaction with Falcons. No matter what reinforcements they’ve sent for, they would never be able to capture us.”

“You’re planning to steal Matheson’s airship?”

“You object?” She pressed a hand against his chest, trying to maintain some sense of distance between them.

“Hell no. I most thoroughly approve.”

“Excellent.” She glanced sideways, shivering a little as she mentally placed their whereabouts. Perhaps a quarter mile to the dirigible, if the moon and skyline were any indication.

“The question remains: can you fly an airship?”

Mina looked up. His gaze had dipped, reminding her that she wore little more than a gold lace corset and a silk chemise. Sinking a little more beneath the water, she glared at him. “I own stock in Galloway’s Aeronautics. Mr. Galloway provided us with an extensive demonstration of his workshop and models, and I’ve been reading Master Renoir’s
Guide
to
the
Skies
.”

England might be somewhat behind when it came to air technology, preferring to sink its funds into the infamous steam-powered steel dreadnoughts that lined its coast and patrolled its oceans, but Mina preferred not to be provincial. France’s skies were dotted with airships; it was only a matter of time before the staunchly humanist French came north, flying neatly over the dreadnoughts and evading England’s best defenses. Even the prince consort had begun to see sense, hiring Galloway’s to construct the first fleet of air militia. The perfect time to invest, in her opinion.