Heart of Iron (London Steampunk #2)

Heart of Iron (London Steampunk #2) Page 16

Heat spilled through her cheeks as his vision came into focus. He had been staring at her. Like a desperate fool. Remembering that kiss. Remembering the taste of her mouth.

Looking down, he stabbed a piece of beef with his fork. “How’s your friend?” he asked. “The blond girl.”

Lena broke off a tiny piece of cake with her fork. “Adele? I called on her this morning. Her parents have put about word that’s she’s taken ill—at least until the mark fades.”

A blue blood’s saliva hastened the healing process, but he’d seen enough scars in his time to know they didn’t always vanish completely. Indeed, if he weren’t verwulfen, his own throat would look like a train track.

“D’you think it will?”

“I took her some salve. Something Leo uses for his thralls.” Fidgeting with her fork, she asked, “Do you think Cavendish will keep his mouth shut?”

“He will if he wants to keep breathin’.”

“You can’t simply go around threatening blue bloods, Will. It might work here in the rookery, but you’ll be in their world and you must learn to play by their rules.”

“Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” He put his empty plate aside and leaned back in his chair, sinking into the soft upholstery.

“That’s beside the point. Of course I enjoyed seeing him get his just deserts. The man’s a bully and a toady. He ambushes young women in secluded corners and forces himself on them. There’s no ruin to him or his reputation.” Her face darkened. “Only to us.”

“Us?”

Lena’s cheeks paled. “A poor choice of words. I meant the young women of the Echelon. He’s never made any overt threat against me before.”

“But if he does, you’ll tell me?”

Lena looked him directly in the eye. And lied. “Of course.”

“Lena,” he warned, finding his feet.

She fetched her teacup and nervously put it between them. “I’m not the one he’ll retaliate against. You made a fool of him last night, Will. He won’t forget that. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Leaning down, he rested his hands on the armrest on either side of her. Lena’s lips firmed and she rested her teacup in her lap.

“You ain’t goin’ to distract me,” he said, reaching out and capturing her chin between thumb and forefinger.

A mistake. Lena’s skin was silky soft, and the slight parting of her lips as she looked up nearly undid him. Her eyes softened, the breath catching in her lungs. For all her devil-may-care attitude, in that moment her expression was oddly guileless. Hesitant. Uncertain of herself.

The hint of vulnerability nearly undid him.

Will jerked his hand back as if scalded and turned away, the breath in him coming hard. “If he threatens you, you’ll tell me?”

Lena’s gaze dropped to her lap. “Of course.”

What the devil was wrong with her now? “You ain’t afraid of him?”

“I can handle men like Cavendish.” Putting the teacup aside, she muttered, “It’s certain other ones that give me a headache.”

“Colchester?”

“No.” A frown drew her eyebrows together. “Why would you mention him?”

“He scares you,” Will admitted, his voice lowering. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”

She surged to her feet. “Are you insane? He’s a duke! Even if you could get to him, the Echelon would destroy you.” Those wide brown eyes met his and then she grabbed his wrist. “Will, promise you won’t do anything of the sort! Promise you won’t go after Colchester.”

The scent of fear was back. But this time she wasn’t afraid for herself.

Will rubbed at the back of his neck, eyeing her hand warily. Nobody had ever given a damn about him before. Apart from Blade. “I don’t let nobody touch what’s mine.”

“I can handle Colchester,” she stressed.

The tiny hint of doubt in her voice made his hackles rise. “How? By smilin’? By flirtin’?”

“By playing the game! By hiding in plain sight and not letting him get me alone.”

“Aye, and what’ll you do if he does get you alone?”

She had nothing to say to that.

Will drew her up against him. “Well?”

“There are…ways.” Her hands rested against his abdomen, trying to restrain him. “Let me go, Will. This is unseemly.”

“What kind o’ ‘ways’?”

Lena glared at him. “I submit. All he wants is blood. It costs me nothing. He can’t afford to take too much and have me die. I’m not…not just some poor, unprotected coal lass.”

The words pierced him like a knife. White-hot fury seared his brain, the world narrowing in around him until all he saw was Lena’s frightened face. “Like hell you will.”

Lena flinched as his hands tightened unconsciously. “Stop it, Will. Let me go!”

A gasp from the doorway caught his attention. Mrs. Wade stood there, her black skirts enveloping her like the sail from a ship. “I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens! Sir, you will remove your hands at once.”

He hadn’t even heard her coming.

Whatever expression was on his face, Lena whispered, “Don’t you dare.”

Her expression turned mulish, completely unafraid of him. It was that that earned Mrs. Wade a reprieve. Few people ever saw a man when they looked at him. Only a monster. He couldn’t sully his image in Lena’s eyes. Couldn’t act like the beast the world thought him.

Eyes shuttering, he opened his hands and she stepped back with a sharp little intake of breath, rubbing at her arms.

Will caught her skirt, leaned close. He wasn’t finished by half. “If he makes so much as a single move in your direction I’ll kill him, Lena. I’ll bury ’im so deep, won’t nobody ever find ’im. So either you find a way to stop him. Or I will.”

Ten

Five days later, Lena popped a cherry in her mouth and nibbled on it, watching as Will paced the room. He’d spent the morning being fitted for a new wardrobe with Leo. Though she was in charge of introducing him to the Echelon, there were some events she wasn’t allowed to oversee.

A pity, she thought, running her gaze across his broad shoulders.

“Back straight,” she called, as she lounged on the daybed in Leo’s sitting room. “Do try and walk as if you’re out for a stroll, rather than stalking some footpad through the alleys.”

She couldn’t deny his grace of movement was appealing, but there was something dangerous about the way he moved. Even when he was still, he looked ready to pounce.

Will shot her a dark look. “I ain’t gonna mince around like one of them puff-shirted vultures. No matter how many times you make me do this.”

Lena sat up. This was the fourth lesson they’d had and he was fighting her at every turn. The problem wasn’t that he couldn’t do this; the problem was that he didn’t give a damn about the rules of etiquette. “Once more,” she said, daring him to disobey.

Will crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t see the point.”

“You never do. The point is that I told you to do it. And you agreed to obey me. I know this world. You don’t. And right now, you look like some rookery bruiser prepared to smash someone’s head in.”

Visibly grinding his teeth together, he turned and stalked back toward the window.

Lena clapped a hand to her eyes, restraining herself from a sigh. This was going to be a long afternoon. “Tell me, how many sources of power are there in the Echelon?”

“The Council o’ Dukes make all the decisions.”

“And who sits on the Council?”

“The seven heads o’ the great Houses and the prince consort.”

“Who can overrule their vote?”

“Technic’ly the queen, through Right of Regency,” he retorted, turning on his heel with a flourish that almost reminded her of Blade. “Though she speaks with the prince consort’s voice.”

The words could have been her own. Despite his lack of education, Will could parrot things back at her verbatim.

“How do you remember all of this?” So far he hadn’t missed a single question, though when she lectured him on the power plays of the Echelon she’d been certain he was paying her no mind.

“Blade taught me. We don’t write things down in the warren. So we gotta remember it all. Who owes us some tin, how much, who’s paid, street addresses, names, who’s been beatin’ his moll up…” He shrugged. “Ain’t hard.”

Will sauntered back toward her. He’d stripped his coat off, as he often did when he was indoors. A gray tweed waistcoat sculpted the broad planes of his chest and he’d rolled his sleeves up again. On the inside of his wrist was a tattoo of a pair of crossed daggers. Blade’s mark. A tattoo all of his Reaver’s gang wore.

“You’ll have to stop doing that,” she noted. “Sleeves remain down.” And coat remains on. But she was enjoying the view enough not to mention it. Taking another cherry, she twirled the stem off it and slid it between her lips.

His gaze lingered on her mouth. “What next? We’ve covered bowin’ and scrapin’, mincin’ about, who I need to be wary of, who holds the power, who doesn’t, what I oughta wear…”

Lena bit through the plump, juicy flesh and swallowed. “Dancing.”

“Not more dancin’.” He knelt on the edge of the daybed and reached for one of the cherries. “We’ve already done that.”

With Mrs. Wade watching on like a disapproving mama. Now that they were alone… “Definitely more dancing.”

Tugging out a pair of cherries, he leaned forward, dangling them over her lips. “You’re doin’ this to torture me.”

Lena bit into one of them and tugged it free with her teeth. “Absolutely.”

Lifting the other to his own mouth, he chewed in a considering manner. “Later,” he said. “All this prancin’ about’s borin’ me and I ain’t been to sleep yet.”

“I’m so sorry my company’s wearying you.”

Leaning back on his hand, he slid her feet up so he could sit properly. He did look tired, the scrape of his stubble shadowing his jaw and his eyes darker than usual. “It ain’t your company. Last night someone decided to torch a shop Blade’s offered his protection to. Had to find ’em. Some drunk fool who nearly shat himself when he saw us. So gin-soaked he hadn’t even seen the pair of crossed daggers carved into the door.”

“Fine,” she said, sitting up. “Perhaps we’ll save the dancing for later.”

“No more lecturin’ either.”

Lena’s lips firmed. “No dancing. No instruction. Perhaps you’d find a demonstration better?”

“Definitely.”

With a little smile, she shifted to her knees. The door remained open and every so often Mrs. Wade popped her head in, but for the moment they were alone. And she felt like teaching him a lesson about finding her company wearying.

“Tell me,” she murmured. “How does a woman demonstrate her availability as a potential thrall?”

“Ain’t the foggiest.”

Dragging her skirts behind her, Lena stood and crossed to the cherry bowl, adding an extra little swish to her stride. Picking up the gilded bowl, she settled beside him, her emerald skirts brushing his thighs. It was finer than what she usually wore for day dress, but he would never know that.

Will tensed. She’d never before realized how much coiled power his muscular frame held, but it was almost vibrating off him.

“She wears white, to begin with,” Lena said, tugging another cherry out of the bowl. “But only during the evening, for it’s considered passé during the day. Cherry?”

He stared at her as she lifted it to his lips. For a moment she wasn’t sure he would take it from her, but then he reached out and bit into the sweet fruit, vibrant red juice coloring his lips.

“Would you do this?” he asked thickly. “For a blue blood?”

Lena glanced up from beneath her lashes. Then licked the spilled juice from her fingers. “They’d consider me fast. That’s a dangerous reputation for a debutante.”

His lashes lowered, shuttering those beautiful eyes. “So this is a game you’re playin’? With me?”

“It’s all games,” she replied, giving a little shrug. Watching the color of his eyes change, she lifted another cherry toward his lips. “I’m not putting you to sleep, am I?”