Heart of Iron

Sixteen

The heat of his body imprinted itself on her skin. Lena swallowed hard, lifting the pistol and staring blindly at the target. How on earth did he think she could focus with him pressed against her like this? Her bustle was poor defense; even the corset did little to still the hard feel of his body. Especially when the memory of that body pressed against hers last night kept playing over and over in her mind.

His mouth on her breasts, teeth tugging at her nipples. Callused hands sliding between her legs and pressing the heel of his palm to the wetness there.

“…through the sight like this… Here… Ease your finger over the trigger…” His breath warmed her ear.

Lena pulled the trigger with a soft groan. Dust showered off the brick wall.

“Don’t worry,” Will muttered. “You’ll get it.”

She wanted to hurl the bloody thing at the milk bottle. Maybe she’d have better chance of hitting it.

With a growl of disgust—and frustration—she turned and shoved it at him. “I’ve had enough. We’ve been at this for nearly an hour and my aim’s growing worse.”

“You’ll get it—”

The excitement of the pistol had long since worn off with his nearness. It only served to remind her of last night, and the mistake, as he called it. Her body was flushed with heat and her head had begun to pound. “I think I’m coming down with a chill. And you still haven’t explained why you told Honoria about my letter. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

Will’s gaze shuttered. “I’ve no head for codes meself.”

“So you involved my sister?” she demanded. “My insatiably curious sister who can’t help sticking her nose into other people’s business?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” A hint of anger flared in his eyes. “If you’d told me what you were involved in from the beginnin’, I wouldn’t have had to resort to drastic measures.”

“So this is my fault?”

A strangled sound came from his throat. “I ain’t sayin’ it’s your fault. I just wish you’d told me. Damn it, Lena. I’m tryin’ to help you. Do you know what it were like, seein’ that message and knowin’ you’d got yourself in trouble? That you wouldn’t tell me how to deal with it? How to help you?”

“I never asked for your help. I can handle this.” Somehow. She crossed her arms over her chest, not quite able to meet his eyes. She’d told him what she could.

“I don’t care if you want my bloody help or not, you’re gettin’ it.” He clutched her by the arms, grimly determined. “No matter where you go, I’ll be watchin’. I ain’t lettin’ no one near you. Not Colchester. Not the humanists. Not the Nighthawks.”

“Then why are you so determined to teach me how to use a pistol?”

His eyes flickered to the amber-bronze of the wolf and back. “The only reason I won’t be there is if I’m dead,” he said quietly. “You’re the last line of defense. I ain’t goin’ to leave you without a weapon or the means to use it.”

The words were chilling. “No.” The thought of him lying at her feet, the warmth drained from his body, was almost enough to undo her. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted. The reason she’d tried to keep him from discovering her secrets. She gripped his shirtsleeves in distress. Damn her resolve to keep a distant attitude today. This was his death he was speaking about. “I wish I’d never told you.”

She should have kept lying to him, kept him in the dark. But she’d been vulnerable last night, made so by revealing the secrets of Colchester’s attack. The feel of his arms around her had undone her. She’d never been able to share the attack with anyone, or grieve for the hurt it had caused. She’d locked it up deep inside and pretended nothing was amiss.

“Too late now.”

Too late… Perhaps. Lena shook her head. She had to find some way to contain this disaster. “If you’re going to involve yourself—”

His eyes gleamed. “There ain’t no ‘if’ about it.”

“If,” she repeated, “I let you involve yourself…then you will do so at my command. I mean it, Will. We work together—under my direction—or I’ll cut all ties and stop this lunacy in its tracks. That means you don’t breathe a word of this to Honoria or Blade. I don’t want anyone else involved. It’s bad enough that you are. I don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands.”

He scrubbed at the roughened stubble on his chin. No matter how often he shaved, he always seemed to have the shadow of growth along his jaw. “What do you mean by workin’ under your direction?”

Lena let out a ragged breath. She hadn’t been certain he’d agree. “I make the decisions. You don’t go off on your own”—a sure way to get himself killed—“unless I say so. I need to work out what the humanists intend. I didn’t fully understand the consequences of what I chose to do. Damn it, Will, I was so angry. I didn’t ask enough questions. I don’t think I wanted to know. And now I’m involved and I don’t know exactly what I’m involved in.” She took a deep breath. “I need to work that out before I do anything else. I know what they stand for—the abolition of the blood taxes, equal rights for man, and a voice to vote with. I just don’t know how they intend to go about that anymore.”

A swift arch of his eyebrows. “Settin’ fire to the drainin’ factories ain’t goin’ to achieve that.”

Nor would destroying this treaty. “Yes, well, Mr. Mandeville seemed certain it was some sort of guerrilla group within the whole.” A slight pause. Just who had threatened her? The legitimate humanists or one of the rebellious ones? “Do you agree to my terms?”

“Aye. I’ll do your biddin’,” he finally said. “On one condition.”

“What type of condition?”

“I’ll give you control of this. But if the situation turns nasty or looks dangerous, then you’ll shut your pretty little mouth and listen to me.” Lena opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his forefinger against her lips, halting the stream of words. “No,” he said firmly. “It ain’t up for negotiation. Any sign of danger and I’m in charge, you understand?”

Her breath parted around his finger. Will’s gaze dropped as though he felt it in other places and suddenly she did too. The heat of it made her squirm, her insides tying themselves into knots. The thought of tying herself to him, letting him dog her footsteps, was suddenly an unbearable agony.

And a necessary one.

Taking a step back, Lena put herself beyond reach of his hands—those treacherous, tempting hands—and smoothed her skirts. The simple action washed the emotion from her thoughts, and most likely her face. She had no choice in this matter. If she didn’t agree he would only find another way to hobble her. At least this way she would be in control. Most of the time. “You’re as stubborn as a bull,” she muttered. “Fine. I agree.”

“If you break your word you’ll regret it,” he said softly.

Mutiny flared. “I already do.”

***

Three exhausting hours later Will handed her up into the steam carriage she’d arrived in. Lena settled against the plush velvet seats, barely noticing the steady jostle of the engine.

Hovering outside the carriage, he cast a swift glance around at the darkening streets. “Here,” he said, tugging a small paper-wrapped package from his waistcoat. “I didn’t just buy you the pistol.”

Lena stared at the box in her gloved hands. Will wiped his hands on his trousers and shoved them deep into his pockets. The action only strained the material over his thighs, something she tried not to notice.

“What is it?” she asked, rattling the box.

“Open it.”

Tugging at the brown string that tied the package, she couldn’t ignore his sudden tension. He leaned against the carriage, one hand on the open door as he watched her play with the strings. She had some mind to draw the moment out, to watch his unease grow, but there was no point. Those were the type of games she’d played with him as a foolish young girl.

Tearing apart the paper, she unearthed a small red velvet box. A gold crown was embossed in the material. She knew exactly where it had come from. Most young ladies did. “Will?” she said breathlessly. “I told you I couldn’t accept personal items.”

His warm hands slid over hers, forcing the box apart. “Consider it practical then.”

One last dying ray of sunlight gleamed through a blood red ruby. She almost snapped the box closed. Almost. “I never asked you what you were doing in a jeweler’s.” She shook her head. “I can’t. It’s too beautiful. Too expensive.”

Will fetched it out, the simple gold band tumbling into his hand. Engraved filigreed thorns wrapped around the ruby, holding it in place. “See here?” He flicked one of the thorns and it sprang out, surprisingly sharp.

She reached out to test it with her finger and he snatched her hand away. “It’s a poison ring, Lena. Took me ages to find a jeweler who had one.” Leaning close, he glanced at the driver and whispered in her ear. “Full of a hemlock concoction that’ll incapacitate a blue blood for a few minutes. How long depends on how old he is, how much the cravin’ virus has overtaken him.”

He was giving her so much more than a ring. Another weapon. Another means to defend herself. Lena swallowed hard, staring at his face as he demonstrated how the ring would work.

“This must have cost a fortune.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t spend much. Never ’ave.”

“Will, I can’t.”

He eased the thorn back into its slot, then closed her fingers over it. That stubborn look she was starting to know so well crept over his face. “It ain’t open to discussion.”

“Is that how you think you’re going to stop me from arguing from now on?”

A rare smile softened his lips.

Lena sighed. “Fine. I’ll take it.” Slipping her glove off, she slid the beautiful ring over her finger. “Thank you.”

“Saves me from worryin’.”

Lena stared into the ruby’s facets. He wouldn’t worry if he didn’t care, would he? Her blood heated at the thought. Don’t. She clenched her fist, hiding the ring from sight. Don’t think this is any more than it is.

Raking a hand through his hair, he looked around. “About last night—”

The warmth drained out of her face. “No,” she snapped. “You made it quite clear what last night was about.”

“Lena, I need to explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” She turned away, shoulders stiff and face frozen as she smoothed her skirts. “I understand that I made a fool of myself. It won’t happen again.”

“Lena, you—”

“A gentleman would keep his mouth shut now,” she reminded him, falling back on her lecture tone. Anything to hold herself together.

Will stared at her, his gaze an intimate touch she refused to meet. “Very well,” he said softly.

“I should be going. It’s growing late. And there’s that dinner I must attend.”

“You’re goin’ out?”

“Briefly. Then I’ll get back to work on Mr. Mandeville’s commission. I need to finish the interior clockwork of the transformational. I’m so very close. There’s no need for you to check on me tonight. I promise I won’t get into any trouble.”

He considered her words for a long moment. Then reached inside his pocket again. “I want you to keep this on you at all times,” he said, pulling out a whistle. It hung on a fine gold chain and he slipped it over her head, then tucked it into the bodice of her dress as though he barely noticed the shuddering intake of her breath “It makes a sound you won’t ’ear, but it’ll alert any blue bloods—or me—in the vicinity if you need help.” Stepping back, he shut the carriage door and nodded at the driver. “I’ll call on you tomorrow before the…the…”

“The balloon launch,” she reminded him. “In Hyde Park. With the Scandinavians.”

“Right.” Will grimaced. “We don’t have to go up in one of them?”

“Afraid of heights too?”

“I’m goin’ to ignore that.” He let go of the carriage and stepped back, shooting her a direct look—and a reminder. “No trouble tonight, Lena.”

“Would I get into trouble?”

“You’re a bloody magnet for it.”