Steam Guardians 01 - A Lady Can Never Be Too Curious (14 page)

Not that it was going to be easy to learn the art. There were very few women in the class, and by the second day, Janette knew why. When she’d awakened, she hurt in places she hadn’t known could hurt. By the end of the first week, she was sure she might never walk again because her thighs hurt so much. Sunday was the only day of the week the class didn’t meet, and it had given her enough of a break to restore her determination not to allow anything to intimidate her into quitting. Or admitting she just didn’t have the will to continue.

But a moment of inattention almost made her rethink her position. Decima ended up as her partner during kicking practice. The woman was obviously more advanced in the study of Asian fighting. Janette never saw the kick coming. One moment Decima was facing her, and the next all Janette heard was a snap of fabric from Decima’s pants as her leg hooked around and connected with the side of Janette’s head. Pain shot through her and sent her stumbling. At some point her ankle twisted beneath her falling body, but she was fighting too hard to maintain consciousness to notice all the details of how she ended up sprawled on the floor.

“Janette, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you didn’t know how to drill with a more advanced student.”

There was a buzzing in her ears, but a few deep breaths ended it. “Um…what was that kick called?” Janette took the hand Decima offered her and stood up. Her knees wobbled a little, but she shook it off. “And when can I begin learning it?”

Decima stopped contemplating her and smiled. “You’ve already begun. All kicks begin with the basics. It will take you time to build the proper strength.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but she intended to find a book somewhere in the vast library that would shed light on the matter. “So, show me how to avoid getting kicked in the head.”

Decima’s lips twitched up again, and this time there was a flare of enjoyment in her green eyes as well.

“Like this…”

***

“You hit her too hard.”

Decima stiffened but didn’t turn around to look at him. “It was necessary. No one can control their instincts. If her mother had trained her, she’d have blocked or landed with skill.”

Lykos made a small sound of agreement. “So now that you know she is truly a novice, at least when it comes to Asian fighting, maybe you should get back to tracking her mother down.”

Decima turned. Every line of her body was visible in the Asian clothing. Even Illuminist women found the lack of corset a bit exposing, but she wasn’t among them. Let them look at her natural shape; she wasn’t going to hide who she was to please any man.

“Ruthlessness isn’t a commodity you and Darius hold exclusive rights on. I will use my skills to form a relationship with her. If her mother has inserted her daughter into our midst to use her as a source of information, all I need to do is be close enough to catch them when they believe it is safe to meet.”

“So now you have the perfect reason to talk to her again. Well played, but ruthless.”

Decima turned her back on him. Lykos was a distraction she didn’t need. His gaze traced her curves too often, and she didn’t care for the heat that rose into her checks when she noticed him looking at her. Becoming a Guardian hadn’t been easy; even in the Illuminist community, the security posting was still widely considered more suited to a man.

Well, she was a Guardian and she intended to be the best one possible. Such a goal did not allow time for personal relationships. Besides, it wasn’t as though Lykos had tender feelings for her. The man only harbored lust for her, and he satisfied it often enough at the high-end brothel he liked to believe she didn’t know he visited. There was one thing all men, from all classes of society, had in common—they didn’t like going without physical comforts and had no trouble lying about it.

She did know, and the knowledge stung. So she walked away from him, intent on ensuring he never noticed the weakness.

A Guardian could never be vulnerable. She had learned that lesson well from Darius.

***

“Dr. Nerval to see you, sir.”

Howard Aston looked up at his butler in surprise. “Show him in immediately.”

His butler nodded, which Howard felt was wasting precious time. The house had felt empty for the last month. Too quiet by far and he was eager to hear that his daughter was ready to return home. Such an event would allow him to bring his wife back from the country, and they could return to being a happy family.

“Dr. Nerval, I am delighted to see you.”

“Hmm, yes. Unfortunately, I do not come under pleasant circumstances.”

Howard’s blood chilled as he watched the doctor settle into one of the armchairs in front of his desk. He discovered it was an effort to maintain his dignity as he waited for the man to explain himself.

“Your daughter’s condition is quite advanced.”

Howard forced himself to sit down and appear civilized. “How so?”

The doctor peered over the rim of his spectacles. “She is not responding to treatment, at least not in the manner that I had hoped.”

“I see.” Howard flattened his hands on the desktop. “Will you be sending her home now?”

“Absolutely not.” The doctor punctuated his comment with a tap from his cane. “It would be irresponsible of me. She is quite ill.”

“I am not following you,” Howard said.

The doctor held up a finger. “The infection stems from her mother. To sterilize it, I shall need to treat both of them. By neglecting to tell me of your wife’s familiarity with the Illuminists, you made this process much longer than necessary.”

“Now see here, sir, my wife is well-balanced.”

“Is that so?” The doctor leaned forward. “I find your faith in me lacking. Everything I told you about your daughter proved to be true.”

“Well…yes,” Howard admitted. “But I have never seen any symptoms from my wife.”

“You mean she has concealed her Illuminist weakness since your marriage.”

Howard stiffened. “Of course she has. It was the only condition under which I would wed her.”

The doctor shook his head. “And who was responsible for directing your daughter’s education?” He leaned forward as Howard settled back in his chair. “Did you give her freedom to instruct your child? Abovestairs? Behind closed doors?”

“Children belong in the nursery. It is the only civilized way for them to be raised,” Howard defended himself.

The doctor stamped his cane against the floor. “Your wife was a member of that foul collective. She reared your daughter to respect them while you remained confident that she was performing her motherly duties. Yet there is the difficulty. Your wife was raised on the milk of the Illuminists, and she passed it on to her daughter.”

Howard leaned forward. “So you cannot cure her?”

“Of course I can, but there would be little point in returning her here to be infected again. Your wife needs to join her daughter in treatment.”

Howard drew in a deep breath. “I sent her to the country.”

“Recall her.”

Howard nodded before really thinking the matter through. The doctor stood the moment he did and bid him good day. The empty house felt strange, the sound of his heartbeats growing louder as the silence became nearly deafening.

He slapped the desktop again and once more until the stinging of his palm distracted him from his emotions.

Logic was the way for civilized men to run their lives. Order produced contentment, while emotions only yielded chaos.

He reached for a sheet of paper and began to pen a letter. A very precise, logical message.

***

Her head ached.

It was the only reason Janette woke barely an hour after going to bed. At least, it was the only reason she’d admit. She hadn’t felt Darius in the room with her—no, she would not allow him to invade her dreams. Even if she was lying to herself. The man had been in her dreams.

Her bedchamber was dark and silent, but as sleep cleared from her mind, she looked about, searching for what had awakened her. She could feel the man near her, as if another sense had appeared with her introduction to him. It irritated her, making her restless because she always seemed to be thinking of him.

Tonight, it was worse than usual. She couldn’t seem to banish the feeling that he was watching her. His men were at their post most certainly, but the feeling of being watched was much stronger. She was tired but fully awake, and closing her eyes felt wrong—dangerous, actually.

Passing her fingers over the base of the bedside table lamp, she pushed the operating crystals closer together until soft light illuminated the room. Only the bare essentials furnished it, but she still wasn’t satisfied just by seeing that she was alone. The dark outer room teased her with possibilities.

She felt like she was being studied. A tingle of awareness went down her spine, but it wasn’t frightening. She owed that to Darius. She felt secure in the building because it was under his charge, and yet the feeling that she wasn’t alone persisted.

She pushed the bedding aside and stood.

“Who’s there?” She strained to see through the shadows of the entry room, searching for the owner of the gaze she could feel on her. “I know you are there…”

“But you cannot see me. Still, your instincts are good, Janette.”

She jumped. Darius materialized from the shadows with a look of satisfaction on his face.

“You certainly needn’t appear so pleased by the fact that you…” She hesitated over admitting just how upset she felt.

“Frightened you?” He closed the distance between them, and she realized he’d left his overjacket somewhere. He was clad in only a vest, his shirt-sleeves bare. Heat teased her cheeks as she noticed, the knowledge oddly intimate. It was the first time he had looked at ease. The man had always been so frustratingly formal in her presence.

Except
for
when
he
kisses
you…

“You simply startled me.” She lifted her chin and forced her lips into a smooth line. “It isn’t very kind of you, Mr. Lawley.”

“Then why did you jump?”

His tone was full of arrogance, and perhaps if he’d been in his overcoat and cravat, she might have swallowed the urge to argue with him.

“Why? Because you appeared in my bedchamber in the dark of night when I am not accustomed to receiving company. You are quite mistaken to insinuate otherwise, Mr. Lawley.” She drew out his last name and watched his eyes narrow. Good. The man deserved to be set down, even if she didn’t believe he’d remain there for long.

His ear device was still in place, but his hat was missing, granting her a rare, unobstructed view of his dark hair. It didn’t lay smooth but curled slightly, increasing the feeling of intimacy. Heat stung her cheeks, and his gaze settled on the telltale stain.

He bent slightly, offering her a bow that was just as informal as his clothing. Yet somehow it felt more sincere than any courtesy he’d ever offered her. For the moment, he wasn’t a Guardian and she wasn’t a novice. It made her tremble. The need they tried to cover up with their formalities was more than happy to be allowed free.

“My purpose was to uphold my duty by ensuring you did not overlook seeing a doctor after your accident today. Yet you are correct. My approach is less than appropriate.”

He was studying the side of her head. She reached up, feeling only a slight tenderness now.

“I am fine and old enough to decide if I need medical attention.” She had to temper the urge to snap at him again. She looked away, worrying her lower lip as she tried to still the tempest brewing inside her. The storm of emotions defied her comprehension. She should have been alarmed to be standing there in naught but a chemise; instead, her thoughts dwelled on just how much she liked his lack of formality.

Her father was correct about one thing: becoming an Illuminist was certainly causing her to behave wantonly…or at least to think that way.

But for now, they were only two people, their allegiances discarded. Relief traveled through her like an evening breeze on a summer day, leaving her to simply enjoy the moment. His dark gaze studied her, and for a long moment, it looked like he was enjoying himself as well.

“You are unaccustomed to just how deadly Asian fighting arts are. A single kick can kill, Janette.”

His tone was firm and edged with authority. It crushed the mood, allowing her to look back at him and see only the Guardian he’d been for the last few months. She was suddenly sick of the battle between them. “I don’t want to quarrel; it’s been a long day. Don’t you trust your night Guardians to be as dedicated as you? They saw me as I entered and asked after my welfare.”

His lips twitched, granting her a flash of teeth. “I don’t trust you not to speak up out of some sense of invasion of privacy or hesitate because your recent encounter with a so-called doctor was less than pleasant.”

The heat burning her cheeks doubled. His attention shifted to it, but there was no real way he could see her blushing in the darkened room. “I understand the risks of the class. Besides, I am not so foolish as to ignore my own health.”

Even if he’d uncovered something she’d liked to avoid thinking about. A tiny shiver traveled across her skin as she recalled the matron and orderlies at the clinic.

“I would have gone for help if I needed it,” she insisted to dispel the memory. There would be no lingering trauma from the clinic. She refused to allow Dr. Nerval such a hold over her.

“You may see for yourself.”

She turned her head so the light bathed the spot Decima had hit. But he reached out to trail his fingers across the hot surface of her cheek instead of the place he claimed to be concerned about. Such a simple touch, but it sent her heart beating faster.

“But something else is affecting you, Janette. Something you’re fighting to ignore.”

“You’re being inappropriate again,” she scolded softly. “I didn’t invite you here.”

He chuckled and stroked her cheek once more. This time he stepped closer and she retreated, only to have the wall stop her. His hand slid upward into her unbound hair.

“You have, with every flutter of your eyelashes when you pass me in the hallway. Every time I see you, your cheeks turn scarlet, and that is without a doubt an invitation of the most personal kind.”