Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

 

 

IF THE GUARDSMEN who escorted them to their room looked a bit panicked, they had good reason. “Können Sie uns retten?” one man, his jaw painfully swollen, rasped in German. Can you save us?

She caught up his hand and stared at his knobby joints. She couldn’t lie. “I don’t know,” she answered in German. Could she leave behind so many young men, condemn them to death if an answer was in reach? No. “But we will do our best.”

“Gunther,” the other guardsman barked. “Do not consort with the prisoners.”

Any hope that she might convince them to let her walk free in the early hours of the morning evaporated like a drop of water on a hot iron skillet.

The door closed. A key turned.

Setting the armful of scrawled notations he carried onto the desk, Ian crossed the cavernous tomb of their bedchamber to stand at the window and stare through its leaded glass panes. She set down the case holding the osforare apparatus and followed, moving silently to his side. In the far distance a pteryform soared beneath a full moon. She squinted. Did Katherine ride upon its back?

Tempted though she was to admit to her possession—‌or rather—‌that Steam Matilda housed an active acousticotransmitter, given Ian’s reaction to Mr. Black’s presence in the forest, she didn’t dare confess. Besides, now was not the time. Warrick had all but admitted to murdering Ian’s father to save his own hide. She would offer whatever comfort he’d accept.

“I’m so sorry, Ian.” She laid an unsteady hand on his shoulder.

And then his arms were around her waist, pulling her close. She lay her head against his chest and listened to his heart beat as he dragged in a long, ragged breath, struggling for control. They stood together wrapped in silence. For a brief moment, the harsh world about them faded.

All too soon, Ian set her aside. His eyes were tired and tense. “Tell me what you know of this committee, of CEAP.”

Given Warrick’s revelations, he deserved to know. She swallowed hard, then nodded. “This past fall, while listening at doors, I overheard my father discussing something preposterous with one of his men. He ordered an agent north, to investigate the possibility of selkies on the Scottish shore.”

Ian scoffed. “Seals who can shed their skins and take the form of a woman?”

“Such is the myth. From what I could gather, there are members of our government who believe that myths and fairy tales conceal core truths. They have formed a shadow board, side-stepping rules and regulations of all kinds in an attempt to discover their underlying biological facts.”

“They’re interested in more than simple facts,” Ian said. “It would seem they also strive to create new myths. Men with unbreakable silver bones would easily weave into the fabric of legend.” He paused. “I’ve known the duke to bypass the law before.”

“Father would, but only in the most honorable of ways. He wouldn’t support men who would willfully harm other humans, no matter what peculiarities or talents they might possess.”

“Are you so certain?” Ian asked, his eyes haunted.

“I’ve no evidence.” She caught Ian’s eye. Would he believe her? Trust was a fragile thing between them. “But we will ask him when we return.”

“I asked once,” Ian said. “He refused to acknowledge the existence of shadow boards. He will not answer questions.”

“He will answer mine.”

Ian stared at her for a long minute, then nodded.

Thoughts of returning to London called to mind Mr. Black, who even now lurked in the German forest, ready to assist their escape. Yet they could not turn tail and run, not until they’d exhausted all possibilities of finding a cure.

“Warrick spoke of rapid growth and the accumulation of toxins. What was it that he whispered as…‌” As his own blood pooled about him. A horrible death, but one such agents must witness with regularity. Olivia closed her eyes. Perhaps she was not cut out to work in the field after all. “I saw you reach beneath his coat.”

Ian pulled a vial of powder from a pocket. “This.”

“Antimony?” The moonlight gave the powder a silver cast.

“It can’t be antimony. The color is a shade different. Without access to a laboratory, I can’t be certain, but I believe it may be arsenic.”

“Arsenic!”

“A certain poison. But what if it could be delivered directly to the cancerous cells?” He began to pace. “Warrick told me to feed this to Elizabeth and then to induce rapid cell growth. With his last breath, he told me the cells needed something that oscillated.” Ian ran a hand through his hair. “But Zheng’s blade cut him off before he could finish.”

Olivia forced her mind back to her correspondence coursework. “Oscillating. To move back and forth between two things. Could he have been referring to different forms of energy? Or perhaps he alluded to alternating current, electricity that is constantly changing directions because the voltage follows a sine wave oscillation?”

Ian’s steps slowed as understanding dawned. “Does the Rankine Institute even accept females?”

“They do not.” A smile curved her lips. “They did, however, grant one Oliver Bird a degree in engineering.”

He yanked her against him. “I should have guessed.” Warm lips pressed to hers and her pulse jumped, but as quickly as it began, the kiss ended. “Your talents are wasted as a mere societal liaison.” He drew her across the room to the desk. “Time to comb through Warrick’s notes. I will attempt to unravel the biology behind his claims, but I will need the critical eye of an engineer to decipher this bewildering tangle of equations.”

As she’d been forbidden to reveal her engineering skills, not once had anyone ever praised her degree. Father considered it an unnecessary waste of time. Other agents, he’d insisted, would analyze any data she collected. Whereas Mother worried her daughter’s over-educated mind might dissuade would-be suitors. A certain lightness filled her chest as Olivia lifted a sheet of paper.

Warrick’s penmanship bore much resemblance to chicken scratch. She turned the page sideways, attempting to read the notations beneath the faint moonlight that filtered through the window. “We’re going to end up blind.”

Ian’s laugh was bitter. “Very probably.” He reached into his pocket again and withdrew a decilamp. “The other item I found in Warrick’s coat pocket.” He shook the device to activate the bioluminescent bacteria within. “Perhaps it will help.”

Long minutes passed as they peered at page after page in the blue-green light. Then, there it was. A seemingly arbitrary note scrawled by Warrick.

“Have you heard of Wolff’s Law?” Olivia asked.

“Of course. Julius Wolff is a German surgeon who works in Berlin. He studies bone remodeling, how increased forces upon bones strengthen them by stimulating osteoprogenitor cells to differentiate into osteoblasts. Why, what did you find?”

“A reference to cyclic loading,” Olivia said, passing Ian the sheet of paper and pointing to a paragraph scribbled in the corner of the page. “Forces applied in differing directions.” She looked up at him. “That’s an oscillation.”

“That’s it!” He snapped his fingers. “It has to be. Warrick found a way to induce extremely rapid growth by stimulating the differentiation of his precursor cells into bone-producing cells. If the dividing cells could be induced to uptake a toxin at a rapid rate—‌”

“It would kill them,” Olivia finished.

A wide grin transformed Ian’s face. “That must be what’s in the mill house, a device to stimulate bone growth.”

“Built out of copper,” Olivia agreed.

He tossed the page aside and dragged her into his arms. “What would I have done without you?”

~~~

Ian poured the chaos of his emotions into their kiss. Relief. Exhilaration. Wonder. Admiration. Rising desire.

Olivia’s lips parted in encouragement. She wrapped her arms about his neck, holding him close as he spun her about, walking forward until her back pressed against the bedpost.

Breasts crushed to his chest, he held her there, looking down into her eyes as her heart pounded, as her breath came in gasps. He worked hard to rein in his desire, to remind himself of all the reasons he should take this no further.

No other woman he’d ever met compared. Lock-picking, eavesdropping, stealth programming of household steambots. Not once had he thought to list them as qualifications for a wife. She complicated his life in a way he would not have chosen, but also in a way it seemed he could not do without. With her, he could see a future. One in which he didn’t spend every waking hour locked inside his research laboratory. He could envision a home. Children.

He’d meant to wait. To court her, to win her hand, to marry her first. But with Warrick dead and fire burning in Zheng’s eyes, it wouldn’t be long before the count learned of Katherine’s betrayal. Then, he too would lose his temper. Would the desire to command an unbreakable army still be strong enough to rein in the count’s anger? Ian lowered his forehead to hers. What if this moment was all the time they would ever have together?

“Don’t stop,” she breathed. “Don’t tell me you can’t. Or won’t. Please don’t be a gentleman tonight.” As she spoke, her fingers moved quickly over the buttons of his waistcoat, his shirt. “I want to feel your skin against mine, Ian. I’ve never wanted anything so much. Please. Take me to bed.”

The last of his willpower crumbled. She was a woman who knew her own mind, who knew what she wanted. His fingers plucked at the buttons of her bodice, pushed the material free from her shoulders, down her arms to the floor. Her skirts, petticoats followed. As her chest rose and fell erratically, he twisted a golden curl about his finger,

“When we return home,” he whispered, refusing to speak of any other possibility, “I will offer for you.” Not because of some strict moral code, but because he could no longer imagine not having her at his side. Always.

“You can try.” Olivia turned her back to him, lifting the tangle of her hair from the nape of her neck.

“Will you say yes?” Heart racing, he loosened the laces of her corset.

“Convince me I should,” she teased.

The corset fell to the ground. The thin chemise she’d worn followed, leaving nothing beneath his hand but smooth skin.

Running his fingers down the knobs of her spine, he skimmed his hands outward over the flare of her generous hips, upward to the narrow indentation of her waist, then forward over her ribs until he cupped the full roundness of her breasts.

He nibbled at her neck as he pinched her nipples, drawing forth the most gratifying gasps and moans. Her head fell backward onto his shoulder with a cry, fuel to the fire that burned within him. One hand toyed with her breast while he slid the other down to the soft curls between her thighs and found her already damp and ready.

He was lost.

~~~

The hard length of Ian’s arousal pressed against her buttocks. Though his touch clouded her mind with pleasure, she clung to her resolve. She wanted all of him. Now.

“You wear far too much clothing,” she said, turning in his arms. His eyes smoldered as she stepped backward, climbing into the enormous bed. “Coming?”

Ian’s answer was to tug off his shoes. Her lips parted to give voice to another comment but—‌as he shoved his trousers from his lean hips—‌her mouth went dry. His bare form was perfection. Wide, muscular shoulders narrowed inward to his waist. Below, his thick erection jutted, and her breath caught as she thought of him fitting inside her.

Their eyes locked. His gaze was liquid heat.

“Like what you see?” His voice was rough.

“Very much.” Her heart pounded, sending fire through her veins. “Come closer, though, so I might touch.”

He bent to grab something from his travel case, then climbed onto the thick feather mattress and yanked the bed curtains closed, plunging them into near darkness.

Olivia shivered at the cold air that drifted over her exposed skin. Then shivered again in anticipation as he pushed her backward onto the pillows, trailing kisses along her jaw and neck. She arched her back, brushing her nipples against his chest. Sensation exploded inside her. “This is much, much better.” She ran her hands over his firm shoulders, down the cords of his muscled back, exploring his hard shape even as she urged him closer. “Ask me anything, Ian,” she said. “There’s nothing I could refuse you right now.”

“Later,” he laughed against her skin. The roughness of his unshaven cheeks scraping over her burning skin sent electric jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. “I’ve other uses for my mouth at the moment.” Then his mouth was indeed too busy. It was everywhere—‌neck, breasts, hips, stomach.

“Oh! Yes! There!” she cried as his lips fell upon the aching center between her legs.

Long minutes later, he twined his fingers in her unbound hair, cradling the back of her head and dragging her face to his. His mouth covered hers with a groan, demanding she open to him. His tongue slid against hers, twisting and twining, hot and erotic. As he thrust his tongue, mimicking what was to come, damp warmth pooled between her legs.

She wrapped her hands about his biceps while he braced himself above her, as his knees nudged her legs apart. His weight settled at her core, and she pushed upward, moaning as the hard column of his need pressed against the soft wetness of hers.

“I want you. All of you.” Every nerve ending of her body hummed.

“Patience,” he murmured, and reached between them, his thumb circling at her center, drawing low cries from her throat and a new flood of heat.

“Please,” she begged. “Now.”

He shifted. Paper tore and she knew he covered himself with a sheath. Then she felt him at her entrance. Slowly, he eased inside. There was some pain, a dull burn. But certainly there was far more pleasure to come.

“Hurry.” Olivia lifted her hips.

“I’m trying not to—‌”

Grabbing his hips, she pulled. Deep and tight, he filled her, and she cried out at the marvelous sensation of being stretched so completely.

“You’ll be the death of me, Olivia,” Ian growled through gritted teeth. “Are you—‌”

Dragging her nails up his back, she whispered, “I’m fine. Better than fine. Please don’t stop.”

Ian pulled away, then eased back into her again.

“Mmm. That’s nice,” she murmured. Though not quite what she’d hoped. She shifted, squirming against him, struggling to find the right kind of friction.

“Only nice?”

“I rather enjoyed your entrance.”

He groaned, then leaned forward and kissed her. “Perhaps this?” He withdrew, then thrust into her, deeply.

“Oh!” She gasped. “Yes, that! Again!”

Again and again he drove into her. Flexing her hips with each plunge, the sensation multiplied and built to dizzying heights. This joining of bodies, it was far, far more than anything she could have imagined, so much more than the pleasures he’d shown her hours before.

“More!” she cried.

Bracing himself on his knees, Ian reached beneath her buttocks, pulling her against him. Deeper. Faster.

She met him, thrust for thrust, keening as something inside her coiled tighter as it crept closer and closer to a hot and feverish edge…‌ then leapt over with a roar. She cried his name as a blaze of sublime pleasure enveloped her. “Ian!”

Once, twice more he ground into her, shouting as his own climax overtook him.

“Olivia.” His breath rasped in her ear as he collapsed onto her. She wrapped her arms about him, welcoming the heavy weight. “You are an incredible woman.”

“And you are a fantastic lover.” She smiled against his skin.

“Husband.”

Closing her eyes, she laughed, low and husky. “For a pretend husband, the pretend wedding night was quite wonderful.” She was already looking forward to tomorrow evening, scheming how she might entice Ian into a little naughty behavior in the laboratory.

How strange that she should feel her safest and most cherished while stretched out, naked, beneath a man willing to commit treason to save those he loved. That she herself had had to break any number of rules and regulations, fleeing into enemy territory on what amounted to little more than a selfish whim, to feel so…‌

Dear God, she was in danger of falling in love. With the most perfect, yet worst man she possibly could. A biologist. A former Queen’s agent. A suspected traitor.

“I was serious.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “About asking for your hand, Olivia. I want you to be my wife in truth. Will you marry me?”

She looked up at him, shocked her instinct was to answer yes. She opened her mouth. Closed it. A tendril of worry twined about her chest. “This thing between us, Ian, it’s not a trap. I don’t expect an offer of marriage. I’ve made certain promises. I have responsibilities, commitments I need to honor.”

“Yes, of course.” He rolled away, taking his warmth with him, to stare upward at the bed canopy. He ran a hand over the rough stubble of his beard. “Your Italian baron.”

It surprised her just how badly she wanted to wipe the disappointment from his face by agreeing to be his wife. Giving up marriage to an elderly Italian baron would be no hardship, but he was her assigned target. If she accepted Ian’s offer, an unapproved marital alliance, would the Queen dismiss her from her service? She bit her bottom lip, fighting the sinking sensation that she was not cut out for a life of intrigue…‌ “Let me think about it.”