Moonlight & Mechanicals (11 page)

“No!” The roar of denial exploded from his chest. He reached out and gripped her wrists. “These are not nice men, even if they’re not involved in a possible coup. Stay the hell away from them.”

“You, Liam McCullough, have no authority over me whatsoever.” Now her eyes narrowed, anger sparking gold flecks from the green depths in the dimly lit carriage. “I offered to help you out of friendship and kindness, but I have as much at stake here as you. Do not dare presume to tell me what to do.”

His control broke in his rage over the thought of Eustace or Kersleigh pawing at her person. “I’ll presume whatever I damned well please. This is none of your business,
Miss Hadrian.
Keep out of it.”

“Why? Because I’m a hen-witted, helpless female, who can’t possibly have a brain in her head? Bugger off, Liam. I’m no simpleton and won’t be treated as such.” She leaned closer until their noses were almost touching. The scent of her skin raised gooseflesh on his own, as well as making his lower body tighten in arousal.

“No, damn it.” His voice was deep, throaty, and held more than a hint of his wolf. So be it. Perhaps it would frighten her off. “Because if one of them touches you, I’ll probably rip his hand off at the elbow, and to hell with building a case.”

She licked her lips and heat pulsed in his groin. “Ballocks. You’re perfectly happy to throw me at Connor. You couldn’t care less who I touch.”

“Wrong.” The word ripped out of him on a growl. He dragged her across onto his lap. His fangs pricked at his gums, desperately trying to emerge as he fastened his lips onto hers.

Dear God, she tasted like heaven. Rather than pull back and slap him as he’d expected, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, returning his kiss with a passion that matched his own. Liam found himself drowning in the taste of her mouth, clean, fresh and a little fruity from the punch and lemon squares. She opened for him, welcoming his tongue with a soft moan. Her nails, sheathed by her thin kid gloves, dug into the skin of his neck, urging him on. Her weight settled against him, soft and pliant. Somehow she’d shifted to straddle his lap, leaving her hoops sticking awkwardly out behind her. He couldn’t help running one hand up the side of her thigh, where her skin was guarded only by her silk stockings. How much higher would he have to go to find bare flesh?

“Liam.” She breathed his name like a prayer, then reached down and brought his other hand to her breast, where it swelled against the confines of her corset.

His body ached with wanting her. He dipped his fingers into the neckline of her gown, under the stays and shift to find her warm and soft. Her quiet cry when he brushed her nipple broke him out of his passion-induced daze.

With a curse, he lifted her and dumped her back on the opposite seat. He nicked his tongue on a fang, fully emerged and ready to claim his mate. He forced them to recede, and inhaled deeply. “Damn it, Wink, get a hold of yourself. Please. We can’t do this.”

Chapter Six

Wink pulled up her bodice and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Liam. “I hate to disillusion you, Inspector, but I think we just did. Rather successfully.” She licked her puffy lips and narrowed her eyes. “You’ll need to find another excuse to assuage your overactive conscience.”

Here was the spark she’d been missing when Connor kissed her. Damn and blast, she couldn’t marry Connor and she couldn’t have Liam. Perhaps she ought to buy a little house of her own and get a couple dozen cats.

“Wink, please forgive—” Liam gripped the seat of the carriage so hard the leather creaked.

She held up her hand. “Stow it. I do not want to speak with you right now, you unmitigated coward.” The carriage rolled to a halt and she lifted her chin as he helped her down and escorted her to her front door. “If I hear anything more regarding the rebellion, I shall send you a note. Please remember to keep the Order informed of your progress. And thank you again for helping Mrs. Miller.”

Mountjoy, the Hadrians’ aging butler, opened the door, and she stepped inside. “Good
night,
Inspector.” With that, she took great pleasure in slamming the door in his too-handsome face.

“Ouch, sis. A bit harsh, wasn’t that?”

Wink whirled to see a beloved face smirking at her from the staircase. “Jamie? What the bloody hell are you doing here? The school term isn’t over for a month.”

Seamus McCann Hadrian, at seventeen, the youngest of the adopted brood, stood and shrugged. “The headmaster and I couldn’t come to an agreement about how I ought to be getting on.”

Wink scowled, handing her wrap to the servant. It would have offended him if she’d tried to take care of it herself. “Please turn in for the night, Mountjoy. Does my aunt know about this hellion’s return?”

“Indeed, miss. Both Miss Hadrian and Miss Nell have spoken with Mr. Jamie, and both have already retired.” With that, the elderly retainer bowed and made his way down the hall toward his quarters.

“Into the study,” Wink told Jamie. She paused in the hallway to give him a fierce hug. “You’re well?”

“I’m all in one piece.” He hugged her back. “And you?”

“Ready to murder the lot of you men.” She punched him in the shoulder hard enough to make him reel back against the wall. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him into their father’s study. “But I don’t want to talk about me. You’ve been sent down
again?
”

Jamie helped himself to a snifter of brandy from the hidden liquor cupboard and without asking, poured Wink one as well, before they both sprawled, facing each other in the leather chairs in front of the hearth. “I’m no scholar, Wink. I’m not like Peter, or even you or Nell. I don’t know what more I can do to convince Mum and Papa of that. All I want is a commission.”

Wink glared at the liquor and sighed. “You couldn’t just finish prep school first? Once you reach your majority, I’m sure Papa would—”

“Would he? I’ve all but begged, damn it.” He drained his glass and helped himself to hers. “They’ve sent me to six different schools in the last four years, and it’s always the same. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. I might as well be in prison. The only thing I’m any good at is fighting.”

For once, Wink didn’t try to play devil’s advocate. She knew how it felt to feel suffocated by her assigned role in society. How much worse would it be if their parents had tried to force her into the full-on social whirl instead of letting her go to university? She took a long deep breath. “Well, it’s too late to start another school now. Perhaps by fall you can have sorted something out.”

Jamie nodded. He set the glass down on the side table and ran both hands through his strawberry-blond curls. Of all the Hadrians, Jamie was the one who could have passed for a blood relation to Wink, with his freckles and a hint of strawberry in his fair hair. He wasn’t as tall as Tom, but had grown broader since she’d seen him last, a sturdy, fit young man with keen gray eyes. If he wasn’t her annoying younger brother, she’d have called him handsome, with the potential to grow even more so as he matured into adulthood.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both staring into the flames of the hearth. Finally Jamie said, “So what did Liam do to infuriate you this time? Do I need to call him out?”

Wink swallowed hard. “What makes you say that?”

Jamie sighed and gestured at her gown. “Your ruffle is torn and your hair is a mess. I know you’d kill him yourself if he forced you into anything, so I’d guess he merely said something stupid, like apologizing after he kissed you.”

“Clever, for a lad who can’t get through school.” She dropped her face into her hand. “He has feelings for me. I know it. But he’s determined to grow old alone.”

“Hmm.” Jamie tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Can’t say as I blame him. Don’t much fancy the idea of being leg-shackled myself. No offense, though. I suppose if one had to get hitched, you’d be a good pick.”

“None taken, you little wretch.” Wink smiled at the idea of Jamie being settled enough to fall in love.
One day.
“But he’s thirty, not seventeen. One would think he’d be past that particular aversion.”

Jamie pursed his lips in thought. “From what I’ve heard of his family, he might have the right idea. He told Tom once that his parents threw crockery at each other at the dinner table. Hard. Worse, I know his old man kicked him around on a regular basis.”

Wink snorted. “Side with him again, and I’ll throw crockery at
you
.” Jamie’s words hurt like a kick to the stomach, though. She’d known that Liam’s family life hadn’t been pleasant, but she’d had no idea that his father had beaten him. She could think of a thing or two to teach Lord Bell, preferably at the point of her silver-plated rapier.

“You know better. I’m on your side, ducks. Always.” Jamie lifted his glass. “You’re family—even back in Wapping, you were my sister. I just didn’t know it.” He’d only been nine when they’d come here to live, and Wink had wondered how much Jamie remembered of their life on the streets. “Truth be told, I thought you were an angel at first—come to take me to heaven after my aunt and uncle threw me out.”

“You were only five,” Wink said. “I’d hoped you didn’t have memories of them.” Jamie’s aunt and uncle had been deeply religious, and had turned him out after he’d had a premonition, claiming he was marked by the devil. She’d found him in an alley, starved nearly to death, and carried him home to Mrs. Miller’s.

Jamie shrugged. “I remember this and that. Not clearly, but I remember you and Tom taking me above the tea shop and feeding me. I was so hungry I thought I had gone to heaven when you gave me milk and scones. Then hell when you made me take a bath. So you don’t ever need to ask. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

“I don’t know. I suppose it will simply have to work itself out in time.” She was touched by his offer, though, and his mention of Mrs. Miller reminded her of the other puzzles she’d been facing. Jamie had an excellent head for strategies. Maybe he’d have an idea of how to help find Eamon.

A while later they both half dozed in front of the fire as Jamie picked apart everything she’d told him about Eamon, the metal men and even Liam’s incipient rebellion. “I’ll see what I can see,” Jamie said. “I’m not as well known in town as Liam, so they might approach me more easily. Besides, anyone who knows me from school considers me a rakehell younger son, while he’s got ‘honest copper’ written all over his face.”

Wink knew better than to tell him no. He’d fought vampyres and press gangs as a boy and now he was a man. She couldn’t insult him by treating him as a helpless child. “Thank you. But please, be careful. Mum and Papa are rather fond of your hide.”

With a laugh he stood, and hauled her out of her chair. “Go to bed, Wink. It’ll all look better in the morning.”

It was something Nell used to tell them every night. Wink laughed, doused the lights and trailed behind him up the stairs. “Stay out of trouble, you twit.”

Jamie laughed, slipping into his room, down the hall a few from hers. “Same goes, ducks. Same goes.”

* * *

Liam paid off the driver and let himself into his small rented house. His only servants were a middle-aged couple, and both would have long since gone to bed. As soon as he stepped into the hall, though, his nose told him he wasn’t alone on the first floor. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Someone—another man—had invaded his territory. Half a second later, he recognized the scent and located the source. His fangs receding, he draped his frock coat over the banister and sauntered into his study.

“Connor. What brings you here at this time of night?”

The young Knight lounged in a chair next to Liam’s desk, a glass of Irish whiskey in his hands. “Your man let me in and left the decanter.”

“I’d assumed as much. If you’d asked, he’d have brought you the Scotch your father gave me last Christmas, rather than my Irish.” Liam sat in his own chair and poured himself a glass of the smooth amber liquid. Connor wasn’t potted, but he wasn’t in top form either. What had happened tonight? Liam raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“Drinking your piss water keeps me from getting too soused to walk.” Connor touched his glass to Liam’s with a wry grin. “Cheers yourself.”

“So what can I do for you?” Liam rolled the peat-flavored whiskey around on his tongue, trying to get the taste of Wink’s mouth out of his mind. It wasn’t working, which made it hard to look Connor in the eye.

“I kissed Wink.” Connor unknowingly blurted out the same thing Liam had been thinking. Liam’s hand shook, but he swallowed and set his drink down as Connor continued. “There was nothing between us. No spark at all. Maybe I should just give up.”

No spark? With Wink? The man must be an automaton.
Liam squeezed his eyes together. “Are you sure?”

Connor shrugged. “As sure as I can be. At least she’s never been less than honest. She just doesn’t see me that way. I suppose it’s time to cut my losses. Maybe my father can get me transferred to Scotland, or Wales, or Timbuktu.”

Liam was tempted to get on an outbound dirigible himself. Damn it though, Wink needed a man, one who would keep her out of trouble and love her with everything he had. If not Connor, then who? At least him, Liam could have trusted to do right by Wink. “You can’t give up on her yet. She needs you.”

Connor raised one eyebrow. “You’ve put an awful lot of effort into thinking about what Wink needs. Why don’t you just marry her yourself?” He poured another glass of whiskey.

“Because I can’t.” Liam bared his teeth and helped himself to another dram. “Now I saw just the thing today to get you back in her good graces.”

When Connor left a half an hour later, Liam was ready to bash his own head in out of frustration. How was he supposed to get Wink safely married off if Connor couldn’t think for himself? He banked the fire in his study and made his way through the darkened house to the kitchen door, then let himself out.

Once in the disused carriage house, he repeated his activities from the night before, stripping and transforming into his wolf. Hopefully this time he’d make it farther than a few blocks, though having vampyres to kill wouldn’t break his heart. He licked his chops as he trotted through alleys and slipped between buildings, staying off the gas-lit streets. Though most Londoners would take him for a big dog and leave him alone, it was still better not to draw attention. The pea-soup fog mixed with coal smoke to create a nearly solid layer of darkness on the streets. The smells of human waste, soot and rotting garbage were stronger at this level, but Liam had long ago learned to ignore those. They were nothing more than the background odor of town.

It was a long run, but he made it all the way to Wapping. He hadn’t had a chance yet to poke around the steps in his wolf shape. His sense of smell was sharper like this, and he might be able to track something. He lingered near the steps where Lolly Archer had been grabbed. This close to the river, other scents mingled into the London miasma—dead fish, polluted water and even more coal smoke. There was machine oil on the steps, but that could have come from any of a thousand sources—a worker on the way home, a passing ship, an automated street barrow. Clinging to shadows, he patrolled up and down the main riverfront thoroughfare, watching the tradesmen, sailors and working girls pass by. Nothing out of the ordinary here, though there was a greater sense of urgency and fear than might be normal. If word of the disappearances had gotten around, that would account for the clustered groups and hurried steps.

Liam returned to the King Charles steps. If the kidnappers were escaping with their prey by boat, sooner or later, they’d have to use one set of steps or another. He watched until the steps were empty, then made his way down. This was where Lolly said the mechanical man had fallen. Liam nosed around in the weeds beside the stairs, looking for something, anything to provide a clue.

Eventually he nosed out something metallic, a small piece about the size of his thumb and jointed, that also smelled of blood and flesh. Hiding in the shadows, he shifted to human form and tucked the bit into the pouch he kept around his neck. Then, back in wolf form, he continued to watch the steps.

When the first signs of dawn tinted the smoky sky, he sighed. No kidnappers tonight in Wapping. Finally tired enough to sleep, Liam made his way home just before full daylight. His housekeeper/cook, used to his odd hours, merely nodded as he passed through the kitchen on his way upstairs.

He sat in his bedroom and studied the bit of metal. It was bronze and jointed, perhaps part of the finger of an automated servant or worker. A closer look showed it was hollow—more of a glove than a digit. Inside, torn bits of blood and flesh remained. This might very well be a part of Lolly’s metal man. Liam carefully wrapped it in a clean handkerchief. He’d take it to Order headquarters later today. For now, he could nap for an hour or so before he needed to be at the Yard. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

* * *

“I’ve brought you a present.”

Wink sat up so quickly she banged her head on the bottom of Connor’s desk as she heard his voice. She scooted out to sit on the floor and looked up at him, rubbing the tender spot on her scalp. “Don’t
do
that. You’re as bad as Jamie.”