Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

 

AS A GRAY DAWN broke outside, Isa stood in the hallway of her Glasgow town home, a hand pressed to her chest, and stared in shock while Alec scoured the house, searching behind every stick of furniture‌—‌broken or not‌—‌and peering into every dark corner.

Though she’d been unconscious for the vast majority of the past few days, she felt like she’d not slept in weeks. A megalodon attack, a stomach-turning journey in an airship, an exotic, Finn-targeted amoebic infestation compounded by imprisonment as a mad scientist’s test subject? And still there was to be no rest.

Her eyes swept over the reckless damage. A chair had been overturned, a lamp shattered, but most of the chaos concentrated about the study’s large oak desk. From the papers strewn about the floor at its base, it wasn’t much of a leap to conclude that the burglars had been looking for Anton’s laboratory notes and grown infuriated when they’d been unable to locate what they sought. She’d hidden them where no one would think to look.

All of this because of her traitorous uncle. Fiercely loyal to the Finn people, he had joined the British Navy and risen to a high rank, inspiring a number of Finn, including Aron, who had set his sight upon‌—‌and won‌—‌a position on the BURR team. No matter how she despised her uncle, not once would she ever have thought him capable of such atrocities. How many lives had he stolen?

Pieces were falling in place, but gaping holes remained. Why would her uncle encourage experimentation upon his own people? Why would Maren allow her eldest child to remain in the hands of a mad scientist, gentry though he was? What did either of them stand to gain from such actions?

Isa had dedicated her entire life to helping the Finn people, doing all that tradition demanded to earn‌—‌prove‌—‌her place among them. The depth of her family’s betrayal cut to the quick. Promises made and broken, shattering her life upon the sharp rocks of their own agendas, beginning with the lie that had been her marriage.

Her mother had cared only that her daughter found a Finn husband so as not to bring further shame upon the family. Her uncle had abused his half-sister’s wishes, arranging Isa’s marriage to suit himself, to exploit her medical knowledge, intelligence and drive. Maren had arrived as an emissary, urging Isa to accept Anton’s proposal all the while handing her own child over to Isa’s uncle as a bargaining piece to further whatever bizarre agenda was afoot. She found it hard to dredge up much sympathy for Anton or Lord Roideach, who were both participants and pawns. To think of all the suffering they’d caused! And would cause, unless stopped.

Since their first meeting, Alec‌—‌a man who barely knew her‌—‌had repeatedly put himself in harm’s way to keep her safe. He’d earned her loyalty, proving himself worthy again and again. Him, a Scot, she could trust.

She had so much to tell him, so much to ask, but they had been unable to speak privately the entire trip home. Between his combat clothing, a rifle-shaped bag slung over his shoulder, and her bedraggled appearance‌—‌tangled hair, no corset and stolen skirts that were several inches too long‌—‌they’d drawn far too much attention. But the farmer had let them onto his steamcart for a fee and, though he’d raised eyebrows and warned them not to cause trouble, the conductor on the train hadn’t thrown them off.

Through the entire journey, Alec had kept her by his side, wrapping his strong arms about her to draw her close whenever the memories of the tank‌—‌of how close she’d come to being a victim of those horrible, groping tentacles‌—‌surfaced. She didn’t feel safe‌—‌not remotely‌—‌but for the first time she didn’t feel alone.

She jumped when a loud clang echoed from the cellar. Why was Alec firing the furnace when they wouldn’t be staying long? Glasgow was no longer safe for them, not with the influence and power a Naval officer and a gentleman would soon bring to bear. Running wasn’t a long-term solution, but she had no better plan. Perhaps Alec did. She briefly closed her eyes as a gentle heat wafted up through the floor registers about her feet, cutting the chill from the air and bringing with it a measure of relief and comfort.

“All clear.” Alec strode back into the hallway, filling its space with his wide shoulders and his grim expression, every inch a fierce warrior.

Her heart jumped to attention, beating faster. What was it about this side of him that called to her, made her want to wrap her hands around the base of his skull and drag those full lips down to hers? She swallowed hard, fighting the sudden upwelling of lust, and forced her mind back to the situation at hand.

Stopping some feet away, he holstered his weapon. “You understand we cannot let your family‌—‌or any members of your community‌—‌know we’re here?”

“Of course.” Her family adored Uncle Gregor. She doubted they’d believe her story and, even if they did, there was nothing they could do to stop him, not without risking their own lives.

“Don’t activate any lights. Don’t answer the door. Don’t send them any messages via skeet pigeon.” His lips twisted. “Though there’s an entire flock perched on your kitchen window sill. We’ll collect the messages and set the birds aside.” He shifted on his feet. “I do need to send one message. To my brother. He’s a government…‌ official with some influence.”

A cautious hope fluttered in her chest. “And now that we have names, he can arrange for their arrest?”

“I sincerely hope so. But he can be difficult to contact.” His steely blue eyes softened as he looked at her, then grew warm as his gaze traveled over the wreck of her attire. “While we wait, we’ll have a few hours to rest and regroup. To talk.” A smile flashed. “But first I thought you might like a hot bath.”

A chance to wash away the soot and dirt that clung to her skin and the bits of hay lodged in her hair? She hadn’t dared to hope for such a luxury. Yet curiosity nailed her feet to the floorboards. This was the first time he’d offered her a personal glimpse into his life and, suddenly, she wanted to know more.

“Just one brother?”

He glanced at her, stabbed his fingers into his unkempt hair. “I’ve two. A full brother and a half-brother. And a half-sister.” Arriving at some internal decision, he took a deep breath and peeled back a layer. “Not via the acceptable route of death and remarriage, however. My father doesn’t subscribe to the concept of faithfulness, hence my half-brother. My mother retaliated, producing my sister. My parents fight like cats and dogs. I can’t recall a single childhood moment of household harmony.”

“I’ve some experience with that,” Isa said, offering a confidence in return. She lifted a lock of her hair. “Red hair is unusual among the Finn. My grandmother took a Scottish lover after her husband’s death. My mother was the result. I am a constant reminder of that indiscretion, a fact held against me and my siblings by an entire community.”

In a small town, blood purity meant much, and Finn were conditioned to think of Finn and Scot as two separate entities never-to-be-intertwined. Here in Glasgow where Finn and Scot worked side by side and occasionally intermarried, the stigma lessened. Separation benefited no one; together they were stronger.

Except when one sought to take advantage of the other. She took a deep breath. “About the boy, Thomas. He’s the son‌—‌legitimate‌—‌of my former friend, Maren. I questioned him, when I was able, and from the child’s words I suspect he’s being used to ensure Lord Roideach’s cooperation. Not that the gentleman in question had any hesitation performing tests upon me.” Her hands curled into fists. He’d treated her as if she were no better than a laboratory rat.

“Maren.” A groove formed between Alec’s eyebrows. “Your uncle’s wife, mother of the child whose seaside baptism I witnessed?”

“Yes. There was a scandal when she returned from Glasgow. Someone let slip that she’d abandoned a husband and child. I objected when my uncle began to court her.” A vast understatement. “When their intent to marry was announced, I spoke with Mrs. Carr.”

“Bigamy,” he said simply.

She nodded. “But not, I was told, in the eyes of the Finn people. Lord Roideach is Scottish and by leaving the child with him, their marriage was dissolved.”

Alec’s eyebrow rose. “About that term, Finn…‌”

“Finnfolk. The origins of my people go back so many generations that they’re lost.” She almost sagged with the relief of turning to a more familiar‌—‌and therefore more comfortable‌—‌topic. “I can’t turn into a seal. But I can hold my breath for up to twenty minutes and swim in the cold sea for hours.”

“How deep?”

“Perhaps one hundred feet?”

“On one breath alone?” He stepped closer, bringing with him a raw fascination that stole the air from her lungs. Her blood started to hum again, and all she could manage was a nod. He lifted her hand, tracing the scars between her fingers with his thumb. “And these?”

“Syndactyly,” she said. “Webbing on our fingers and toes. A common and once highly valued feature among my people, said to aid in swimming, though we do well enough without. Most choose to remove the extra skin, the better to fit in among the Scots.”

He pushed the hair from the side of her face and skimmed the tip of his finger over the top of her ear. “And cut away the points?”

She shivered at his touch. “Yes.”

“What else?” He stared at her intently, hanging on her every word.

“Gray eyes, ancient traditions, a language most can no longer speak.” She turned her face into the warmth of his palm, indulging herself for a fleeting moment. But Alec needed to contact his brother, needed to read with his own eyes the notes Anton had scribbled. Whatever her uncle and Lord Roideach were up to, it involved factor Q. “Come.”

She caught at his hand and pulled him down the hall and into the kitchen, intent on retrieving the notebook from its hiding place on a ledge inside the chimney, one she’d discovered when the cast iron cookstove had been retrofitted to fill the space of the kitchen’s fireplace.

“Here,” she said, handing the details of their research‌—‌of Anton’s discoveries‌—‌to him. “Factor Q is linked to Finn syndactyly. The tentacles are able to sense the glycoprotein in our blood. How or why, I don’t know.”

“We’ll sort this out and stop them, one way or the other.” He held her gaze. “But you realize we might not be able to keep all this information secret, though I will try.”

“I understand.” She believed him. Trusted him. But though he took the notebook from her hand, he set it aside. “What‌—‌”

“A moment, Isa.” Eyes smoldering, Alec caught her waist, lifting her with his two large hands and depositing her onto the end of the kitchen table. “I wanted to do exactly this the last time we were in this room. Alas, there was an interruption.” His voice dropped to a low pitch. “A woman who can swim better than me?” The corner of his mouth hitched into that smile that melted her insides. “Have you any idea what that does to me?”

From the pulse that jumped at his throat, she had a very good idea indeed. A man aroused at her prowess? And not just any man. Alec, a man among the Navy’s elite. Desire flooded her with warmth, then settled hot and wet at her core. Given how events kept conspiring to keep them apart, the notes could wait. Time to put theory into practice and take advantage of the heat simmering in his eyes.

“I do.” She lifted her fingers to the topmost button of his shirt and popped it free. Alec unleashed a boldness she’d never known she possessed. No more waiting, no more wishing. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to the base of his neck. “But I’ve not seen much evidence of your desire to conduct that torrid romance you promised.”

“I’ve been a bit busy.” His hands slid to her knees, parting them as he stepped closer. “Rescuing you. It’s hard to romance an injured, bleeding woman.”

True. But his intense concentration on her shoved away recent memories. She couldn’t bear it if he stopped. “Minor injuries.”

His fingers brushed the skin near the nasty gash the hyena fish had left. “Have you any recollection of how ill you were, of how they managed to cure the amoeba infection?”

“They called it the caeruleus amoeba.” As Isa recounted her time in the freezing water, Alec’s fingers curled into fists, as she systematically listed every treatment, every comment, every horror.

“Maggot fish,” Alec said. “It’s a wonder you survived. A wonder none of my team were infected. Shaw himself was bitten by the hyena fish.”

“I was delirious and confused, but something they said made me think this particular amoeba was altered with the specific intent to infect Finn alone.”

“And seeded inside the mouths of hyena fish,” Alec mused. “Any Finn attempting to escape a megalodon attack would either be shredded alive by hyena fish, or die shortly thereafter, consumed by amoeba one cell at a time. Horrible.”

“It is. It was.” But she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Not right now. “Stop delaying and kiss me.”

With a rumbling laugh, his lips came down on hers. Softly. The kind of kiss a man might give an injured woman. She wanted none of that. He’d shown her mad passion before on the ship, against a wall. That was what she wanted.

Skimming her fingers over the rough beard on the edge of his jaw and into the dark, silky hair at the base of his neck, she opened her mouth, tugging, urging him to sink into her deep and hard. With a growl, he accepted, his tongue plunging and plundering as his hands swept behind her, cupping the swell of her arse and yanking her core tight against his thick, hard column of flesh.

She moaned and flexed her hips in encouragement. Her mistake for not inviting him into her bed that very first night, but how could she have known?

His lips left hers. “We have to wait.” Cold air shocked her back to reality as Alec released her, his chest heaving. “If we’re to have any hope of stopping your uncle and Lord Roideach, I must send a letter to my brother. Now.” His finger trailed down her face as his hot gaze scorched her skin. “Point me to your skeet pigeons. I’ll scratch out a message while you bathe. Then we’ll continue our…‌ discussion.”

~~~

Isa stared at the tub, her clammy hands wrapped about a towel as memories of those dark hours in the tank swelled, nearly engulfing her. Perhaps she would use the ewer and basin instead. She took a step backward.

No. No, she would not let Lord Roideach or her uncle‌—‌a man who ought to have done everything he could to see to her safety, health and happiness‌—‌steal the many pleasures of water from her.

She turned on the hot water tap. Steam rose as the tub filled. Gripping its enameled sides, she climbed in, wincing as intense heat triggered brief, sharp pains where the tentacles had punctured the skin of her legs. She grabbed a cloth and a bar of castile soap and scrubbed her skin pink before attending to her hair. With a yank, she pulled the plug and sat there, watching the water swirl down the drain, carrying away all the dirt and blood of the past few days.

But memories of that horrible tank hadn’t washed away. The time she’d spent in it had left both mental and physical scars, a stark reminder of the value placed on her life by the men who sought to control it because of who she was, what she was.

Not entirely Finn. Yet certainly not Scottish. She’d spent her entire life moving about the edges of both societies, making tentative bids at acceptance, waiting for some stamp of approval that would never be awarded.

Enough. She was both.

Finn by birth, upbringing and mindset, she could not‌—‌would not‌—‌turn her back on her people by allowing her uncle to experiment on those Finn he deemed “inferior” by blood or by birth. Neither would she dismiss her growing feelings for Alec‌—‌admiration, friendship and most certainly lust‌—‌simply because he was Scot. Again and again he’d demonstrated that he would stand by her side. As unaccustomed as she was to such assistance, if she had any hope of stopping her uncle, a traitor who had risen from the depths of their own and moved among the Scots as a powerful officer in the British Navy, she needed Alec’s help.

She refilled the tub and sank into its warmth, focusing on the glorious buoyancy within the delightful warmth that the miracles of modern plumbing provided. As the knots in her muscles began to untwist, her thoughts drifted down a more pleasant pathway to Alec. To his kiss. To his promise of finishing what they’d started in the kitchen. Her hand skimmed over her skin.

He’d developed a habit of plucking her from the water, but perhaps this time she could convince him to join her in the tub? For all that she was Finn, she’d yet to experience that kind of pleasure in the water and, aether, she wanted Alec to be the one she shared it with.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the tub’s edge. She’d wait right here for him to find her. A few inked words on a scrap of paper tied to a skeet pigeon’s ankle. A twist of a key to wind its clockwork. A quick launch from a window. Then all that was left between them was a single flight of stairs and an unlocked door. She smiled, feeling both wanton and resourceful.