Kiss of the Spindle
Page 29
She blinked and quietly exhaled. “Likewise, Mr. Crowe.”
Samson appeared on deck from the galley, a waiter’s linen draped over his arm. “Honored guests, your meal awaits.”
Isla fairly glowed as she threaded one hand around each gentleman’s arm. From the moment they sat at the table together and Samson served them a limited meal of white fish and potatoes, Daniel observed her with new eyes. He paid attention to every movement, every glance, the smallest of gestures toward him. She placed her hand on his when teasing. She blushed, repeatedly, when he plied her with compliments or murmured an innuendo in an undertone. She sought out Nigel’s contributions during the course of polite conversation but simultaneously leaned closer to Daniel.
She joked about the smallest of details from stories he’d shared and even after a conversation with Crowe or Samson, her eyes found their way back to him. There was a familiarity about her behavior with him that should have taken months to achieve. He could only attribute it to the inordinate amount of pressure they’d been under from the first moment she caught his arm and demanded passage. She’d eased him back from the brink of madness when he’d gone mentally back to the war. She’d trusted him to comfort her through her most vulnerable times, honored him by allowing him to stand guard over her.
He blinked when she asked him something. “I’m sorry?”
“I believe I was promised a dance,” she said.
“It would be my greatest pleasure.” He pulled her chair out as she stood and escorted her from the meal.
Samson hurried over to the Victrola and spun the crank. He lifted the needle and strains of a waltz sounded from the large horn.
Daniel bowed, Isla curtsied, and with her hand in his and his arm around her back, he stepped into the familiar movements, surprised—and yet not—at the ease of it. She was physically adept, even while still recovering from the awful injuries Malette had inflicted, comfortable in her skin and accustomed to efficiency of movement in her work and training. They moved together without a stumble, without a single misstep.
The night took on a surreal feel—Samson had strung the beach lights across the deck, and the stars blinked through clouds. The sensation was flight, untethered by anything.
The waltz ended, and though Daniel slowed their movements, he didn’t fully stop.
She met his eyes and lightly arched a brow. “Are you going to kiss me tonight, Captain Pickett? Perhaps steal one from me behind a potted palm?”
His lips quirked. “A pity there are no potted palms on deck.”
She shrugged airily. “Yes. A pity indeed. But perhaps we don’t need one. We seem to be quite alone.”
He glanced around the deck and realized Crowe and Samson were indeed absent. He could only imagine Crowe had suggested it to the ’ton, and Daniel vowed to thank the man later.
He stilled, one arm around her, and placed his hand alongside her cheek. He lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, wanting the moment to last forever. He touched her lips with his and closed his eyes, his heart thumping at her sigh. She wound her arms around his neck, and he pulled her close, devouring her like one starved, and yet realizing he could never get enough.
She gripped his hair and met his ardor, and he smiled against her lips. “All you needed was to ask, Dr. Cooper.”
“I would never want to seem too forward, Captain Pickett,” she said, slightly winded.
“Am I hurting you?” He ran his hand gently over her shoulder where the dragon had sunk her claws in deep.
She shook her head, her lips looking delightfully kiss-swollen in the soft light. “Do you know how badly I would have to be hurting right now to protest?”
He laughed softly and bent down to lift her into his arms. He carried her to a nearby deck chair and settled onto it, holding her. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he tipped his head back. The sky flew by overhead, and now that they were still, he noticed the chill. He sat up and maneuvered out of his jacket, smiling at her laughter as he nearly dumped her onto the deck. They settled back into the chair, and he draped his coat over her.
“We’ll stay out here until you’re too cold,” he murmured.
“This is perfect. We’ll stay here until your legs are asleep.” She turned her face to his neck, nuzzling with her nose and placing a soft kiss above his collar.
He lost track of the time. They looked at the stars, he told her about the origins of his love of airships and sailing, and she told him about the first flight she’d ever taken—which had been on a Pickett airship.
“Little did I know,” she whispered.
“Little did you know.” He kissed her forehead.
She tilted her head back and reached up, pulling his mouth to hers.
He was lost, completely and utterly, until he heard a rough throat-clearing. At the far end of the deck, Nigel Crowe climbed the stairs to the wheelhouse with Samson on his heels.
Isla lifted her head and looked at the other two, and then back at him. She bit her lip, but then smiled, and he was sure he’d have seen a blush if the light had been bright enough.
She touched her forehead to his. “Thank you, Daniel Pickett, for taking such good care of me. I would have you know it has meant the world to me. You mean the world to me.”
His throat burned, and he captured her lips one more time. “And you to me, Isla Cooper. I cherish the day you bullied your way into my life.”
She closed her eyes and smiled. She wound her arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed gently. “Smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life was threaten you with exposure of your nefarious deeds.”
“Smartest thing I’ve ever done was capitulating to you.” He lifted his head and winked. “Besides, you were wearing all that weaponry. I could hardly resist.”
Her lips twitched at the corners. “You removed my weaponry, if I recall.”
“And if I recall, I missed some. You held out.”
“I had to! Leaving a girl utterly defenseless like that . . .”
“You clawed your way barefoot through a tropical jungle and then faced down an entity of true evil, all without a single weapon.” He shook his head. “I’ve experienced enough extreme emotion in the last two months to last an eternity. Please do not ever leave me.”
“Never.”
“Will you marry me? You must.”
She smiled. “Of course I will. And not just because you saved me from the dark.”
“Good. Tonight, then.”
She blinked. “Tonight? You want to marry tonight?”
“Yes. We’ll use Crowe. As an agent of the Crown, he’s authorized.”
She was flabbergasted. “Daniel—”
“We managed to bring you back from the brink of oblivion and have waited long enough; we are sleeping in the same bed tonight. I’ll not be the one to tarnish your good name, so we will marry, and then not only will people not disapprove of us sharing a suite, they will wish us well.”
She gave him a faux pout. “You know how fussy I am about important society events. I cannot believe you will not be even a bit sensitive to my socialite proclivities.”
“Mm-hm. Also, I don’t care what you wear as long as you include the thigh dagger.”
She laughed, tipping her head back and genuine joy rippled through her entire frame. She was strong, whole, and free. And very much in love. “For you, Captain Pickett, I’ll even include the throwing stars.”
“Yes, please.” He smiled and lowered his lips to hers.
“One more,” she murmured.
“One more.”
As always, my heartfelt thanks to my family, my writing partners, Jennifer Moore and Josi Kilpack, and to the wonderful people at Shadow Mountain: Chris, Heidi, Lisa, Richard, Heather, Malina, Sarah, and Jill. A million thanks also to my agents, Bob DiForio and Pam Victorio, for their work on my behalf.
A special and tender acknowledgement goes to the wonderful readers who have been so supportive of this steampunk venture, who loved Beauty and the Clockwork Beast, and who couldn’t wait to hear Daniel’s story. To fans of Disney’s animated Sleeping Beauty, I hope you find the gems sprinkled throughout this book that are my nod to the classic cartoon.
A special thanks also goes to my daughter, Nina, for helping me with plot snags and brainstorming. It was her idea that the dragon could just combust at the end. (“I mean, she’s a dragon, right?”)
1. The origins of the “Sleeping Beauty” fairy tale date back to 1697. Why does this particular story have such lasting appeal? What elements of the fairy tale are present in Kiss of the Spindle? Where do the two stories diverge?
2. Steampunk is a specific genre that blends a classic setting with steam-powered or gear-powered technology. What other steampunk novels have you read? In what ways did the steampunk elements in the story help establish the setting, develop the characters, or advance the plot? What was your favorite steampunk invention?
3. Isla and Nigel have an antagonistic working relationship at the beginning of the novel, though by the end, they have found more common ground. Have you ever worked with someone who was hard to get along with? How were you able to resolve your differences?
4. Family relationships play an important role in the story. Discuss Isla’s relationship with her mother and sister as it compares to Nigel’s relationship with his mother and brother. Are they healthy relationships? How do our relationships with our family help shape our character?
5. Daniel’s experience in the war left him suffering the effects of PTSD. Isla’s ability as an empath allow her to help him during an difficult time. Do you know anyone who is still suffering from a traumatic event? In what ways have you been able to help that person?
6. The characters are able to celebrate Isla’s birthday on a lovely tropical island. Where has been your favorite place to go on a vacation? What made it memorable? What is your favorite birthday memory?
7. The three shifters—Quince, Bonadea, and Lewis—are all taking a risk traveling to Port Lucy on Daniel’s airship, yet they willingly do so in order to protect their families. Have you ever been asked to make a sacrifice to protect someone you love?
8. Isla, Daniel, Lewis, and Nigel literally slay a dragon at the end of the story. What kinds of dragons have you had to slay in your life?
Nancy Campbell Allen is the author of fifteen published novels and numerous novellas, which span genres from contemporary romantic suspense to historical fiction. In 2005, her work won the Utah Best of State award, and she received a Whitney Award for My Fair Gentleman. She has presented at numerous writing conferences and events since her first book was released in 1999. Nancy received a BS in Elementary Education from Weber State University. She loves to read, write, travel, and research, and enjoys spending time laughing with family and friends. She is married and the mother of three children. Visit her at nancycampbellallen.com.