by Megan Derr
"I'm not stupid enough to think you would only blackmail me into a single job."
The man gave a mean laugh. "But you are apparently stupid enough to think you can leave off the only thing you're good at—good for. Though it would seem I never gave you enough credit for acting ability. However did you convince some poor bastard to marry you?" He laughed again. "I bet it was a touching ceremony. Did you declare your love—" The man broke off, then burst into even louder laughter. The cruel, mocking sound of it reminded Max of his peers, always so mocking and dismissive, eager for any chance to laugh at him and dismiss his crackpot notions.
He continued onward, determined to cut the bloody bastard down.
"I almost feel sorry for you, Church. Men like you can't afford to be that stupidly sentimental. Thought you were smart enough to know that. Come see me this evening, eight o'clock sharp. Room 413."
No chance to run. Max kept going, increasing his pace—and jarred into the shoulder of the bastard as he stepped from the room. Max glared at him. "I beg your pardon, sir."
The man glared right back before giving a poor bow. "Apologies, my lord." He was a rather rough-looking fellow, in unkempt dark clothes, and in strong need of a comb and razor. He smelled like expensive cologne, though, vanilla and cardamom, a hint of ginger. His eyes were dark blue, gaze sharp as broken glass, and he would be handsome once he was all cleaned up. Save for his nose, flat and broad and with a bump that indicated it had been broken at least once. "I was careless. I hope you are all right?"
"Quite," Max said dismissively, staring until the man murmured his farewells and departed. "Who the bloody hell was that?"
"No one of importance."
Max whipped his head around. "Oh? I was looking for you, thought I heard your voice. You sounded angry." He met Kelcey's gaze, willing him to explain everything.
Sighing, Kelcey replied, "His name is Timothy Kerr. He has hired me to do work for him in the past, and when I ran into him here he thought to hire me for a job he needs done. He did not like hearing that I am retired. We argued about it. That is all there was to it, whatever you heard."
"All I heard was shouting," Max said, feeling sick. Why was Kelcey lying to him? What was he hiding? Were they in danger? What had Kelcey really done before? Something worse than protecting jewels? Max looked down at the floor, tried to settle his thoughts, sort out what to say.
Kelcey took a few steps closer, reached out a hand, then let it fall as he sighed again. "I did not think you would be speaking to me again anytime soon, given your parting words. I am sorry that I made you think I regarded you in any such fashion. You are—I regard you far more highly than that."
"I shouldn't have said it." Max walked over to the windows, then turned and sat down on one of the plush green and yellow cushions padding benches built into the wall. "You seemed so cold of a sudden, I felt as though I was being dismissed. But I could have asked what was wrong."
"That's never as much fun," Kelcey replied wryly. "I was upset you wished all that transpired to bring us together had never happened."
Max looked up, staring as he went over what he had said. "I can see now my phrasing was decidedly poor. That was not the way I intended those words. I meant I wished we had met without all this drama and running about. That we had been permitted to court in a more ordinary manner … though if we had, I do not know that you would have wanted to be courted by your ex-fiancé's brother."
Kelcey's eyes widened, mouth opening briefly before snapping shut. "I had not … I did not think you would want to court your sister's cast-off, my lord, no matter how well we get on in certain matters. I was certain that when I asked you to the play, you would toss me out and think the worst of me."
"I have no desire to toss you anywhere," Max said, though he wanted to do precisely that. Toss the bastard into the falls. Throw him on the floor and demand to know why the hell Kelcey was lying to him. But he supposed, married or not, he had no reason to expect honesty. Not given the circumstances surrounding their marriage. Except he had trusted Kelcey enough to agree to his mad plan in the first place. To go gallivanting about dodging charges of treason and the punishment that would come should they be captured.
He mustered a smile, but he had to look away from the intent stare Kelcey was leveling at him. "Perhaps I was not as plain about this as I thought. I do think we married in haste, but I've no desire to keep you at a distance."
Kelcey sat down beside him, a warm and steady presence despite everything. He took Max's hand, squeezed it gently, and Max hated him for being so reassuring even as he proved a liar. "I admit I was never broken-hearted about the ending of my engagement, but … the more time I spend with you, the happier I am that marriage will never happen."
"Well, it would certainly be a trifle awkward if you tried to marry her now." Max mustered a smile, though it slipped away again as he asked, "Are you certain you are well? That man seemed … detestable."
"Detestable is putting it nicely. I keep hoping someone will finally shoot him. But if there is one thing I have learned in life, it is that evil men get away with everything and it is the rest of us left to suffer. There is no cause to worry about me, however. I've quit that life for good to be a respectable citizen." He reached up and traced Max's cheekbone with his thumb. "Can't go about ruining my husband's reputation."
Max's mouth twitched. "I ruined my own reputation years ago, but you're sweet to think otherwise. Though after the balcony incident I am certain you've made it all the more interesting."
Kelcey laughed. "Is that an order to desist or to continue?"
"Ask me in a few hours," Max replied, and leaned up to kiss him, thrilling at being met halfway, the eager, familiar way Kelcey's lips moved against his. He did not protest in the least when he was hauled into Kelcey's lap and kissed so thoroughly his ability to think ceased to function.
Nuzzling against him as he withdrew, Kelcey asked, "A few hours, my lord?"
"Sir, you have worn me out. If you seek to have me again it must wait."
Kelcey chuckled—then abruptly stood, still holding Max, and only after a scowl did he let Max slide down to the floor. "Well, how about I see to getting you a meal you can enjoy without enduring Lady Mavin's teasing."
"I believe the word you seek is 'torture'," Max replied. "A proper breakfast would be nice, though the hour is so late I may as well wait until lunch. You're welcome to take me down into the city for it."
"Am I?" Kelcey asked softly. "Well, I shall definitely avail myself of the opportunity. Should we find your sister in the meantime and see what they intend next on their travels?"
Max nodded, tucking his arm into Kelcey's as they headed off. "I suppose we should figure out what room they're in, as that is likely where they've gone."
"The floor above us, actually. She told me before I darted off to find you, and gave orders we were to come visit once I had … um … calmed you down."
Max rolled his eyes. "Indeed. My sister has never uttered a phrase as polite as 'calmed him down' in her life. As to which crude phrase she did utter, there are too many choices for me to guess which one she used." Kelcey snickered but did not comment, only led Max to the lift and requested they be taken to the eighth floor.
When they reached his sister's room, Max knocked briskly upon the door. Minutes passed, and he was just about to knock again when the door finally flew open to reveal Gerard. "Hello, Lord Max, Lord Kelcey. We were just wondering where you were. I apologize for the delay."
Given his flushed face … it seemed his sister had changed her policy on how long she must wear a dress before she would consider taking it off. Max snickered, but he only shook his head when Kelcey cast him a quizzical look. Gerard led them to a table in the middle of the room, set with tea and a couple of books. Nodding at them, Gerard said, "Mav bought those specifically for you. She wanted to mail them to you straight off, but worried you would have been able to find her."
"I was not going to go chasing the ninny all a
bout the globe," Max said, though he would have done precisely that the moment he thought it even remotely necessary. Sitting down, he eschewed the tea in favor of the books. Evidences of Magic in Post-Hollow Wars Society: Collected Essays. How the devil had he missed the publication of such a book? He was going to need a stiff drink to read through it; as often as not such essays were sloppy attempts at legitimate scientific study that caused scientists like him more harm than good. Setting it aside, he picked up the second book. Magic Theory and How It Will Change the World. Well, that was interesting.
Cracking the book open, Max began to read.
He did not look up again until he heard his name said in his sister's teasing voice—and only then noticed everyone had gathered round the table and he had been drinking absently from a cup of tea he had never poured, though it was made exactly the way he liked it. Closing the book, he looked to Kelcey. "Thank you for the tea."
Kelcey smiled over the brim of his own cup.
His sister, resplendent in a red and gold gown, tossed her curls and crossed her arms over her somewhat more modestly covered breasts. "Enjoying the books?"
"Yes, but I do not accept them as an apology for your bratty behavior downstairs."
"Because you suffered terribly from it." She sniffed and lifted her own cup. "We've been apart too long if you ran away so easily."
Max rolled his eyes. "Yes, how dare I learn what it is like to live without constant humiliation and harassment."
"It's only harassment if you do not like it."
"I refuse to dignify that with a reply."
Kelcey shared a look with Gerard. "Are they always like this, do you suppose?"
"My impression is that generally they are much worse," Gerard replied, smiling fondly at Mavin when she preened.
Rolling his eyes again, Max said, "Enough. There is time enough for my sister and I behave like children. What are your plans? You said you wanted to travel further north?"
Mavin set her tea down and leaned back in her seat, folding her hands on one of the armrests. "Yes, we wanted to explore some of the ruins there, and Gerard is fond of the healing waters at Whitestone."
"I cannot attest to their healing properties," Gerard said with a small laugh, "but they are most relaxing. After so many bumpy carriages and storm-tossed boats and that damnable horse in Pellé, it seemed just the thing." Mavin held out a hand and he took it, squeezing it gently, running his thumb over her knuckles.
They were ridiculously endearing. Max still could not believe it, no matter how long he watched them. "I have not visited the battlegrounds there in some time." He looked at Kelcey. "Have you ever been?"
"Only once, on a job," Kelcey replied. "I cannot say it constituted a visit I was there and gone again so quickly."
Mavin clapped her hands together. "Well, it shall be a visit most memorable this time. We are set to depart at the end of the week and arrive there in three days. We've already made arrangements; I do not think it will be difficult to adjust them to accommodate two additions to the party. I'm so excited! We have not traveled together like this since well before Max left. What good fortune to have crossed paths!"
Though Max wanted to share her enthusiasm, he could not. They were hiding from the bloody crown, after all. Kelcey was keeping secrets from him. It was hard to relax and have fun when danger seemed to be coming at him from all directions, wrapped in secrets and lies.
He should demand to know what Kelcey was hiding … but did he have that right? Kelcey had said he was retired. Perhaps it really was that simple and Max was being his nosy self.
No point in borrowing trouble. Taking a sip of tea, he glanced at Mavin and said, "I do hope you're not going to repeat your adventures in Whitestone. One arrest is quite enough, don't you agree?"
She narrowed her eyes. Max smiled sweetly.
Gerard quirked a brow at his wife. "You've been arrested."
"It was a simple misunderstanding," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Lord Hemming strongly implied that I had both the manners and the mouth of a dockside whore. I politely pointed out that he knew that was not the case, as only a month previous we had passed one another in the hall of a certain establishment we both frequented and so were both well-acquainted with the speech and mannerisms of dockside whores. His wife did not find that amusing, but she decided to slap me for it rather than him, and I took issue."
Max snorted. "By took issue, she means she threw Lady Hemming in a fountain and then sent Lord Hemming after her. I wonder if we are still banned from that hotel. What was it, the Berrington?"
"Yes, still banned, but I was never enamored of it anyway. There are plenty of better hotels in the city. You never did tell me where the bloody hell you were that night, and why you did not deign to appear until after I had been carted off, good-for-nothing."
"Oh?" Max laughed. "How did I never tell you? Lord Hemming had a lovely daughter. She was quite eager to take a stroll in the garden and I was happy to oblige her. I do wonder what became of her."
"Scandal," Mavin replied. "She ran away with some artist, I do not recall the woman's name. Did not care for her work, myself, but it's been popular this season." She shrugged. "The family is distraught and humiliated of course, but that is what comes of living so rigidly. When people are not allowed to bend, they break away." She and Max shared a smile. "Speaking of scandal, I cannot wait to see the stir we will cause whenever we return home. Me married to a foreign lord, and you run off with my ex-fiancé. We'll be the darlings of the scandal sheets."
Max grimaced. "Again. You would think at some point they would start to find us boring."
"Hardly. I think they live in hope they can report something incestuous." She and Max shared another grimace.
"Do people actually ask that?" Kelcey asked. "I thought I was the uncouth one."
"No, you are really quite more civilized than most of society," Mavin said. "Why do you think I was so eager to call you a friend?"
Kelcey smiled. "I'm fairly certain that was because you believed you could coax me into punching Lord Fair."
"Are you still haranguing that man?" Max demanded.
Mavin shrugged. "He never stops needing to be punched, and I can only do it so many times myself. But enough of that. We are going up to the waterfall later. You should come along. Get some fresh air, a brisk walk. Be good for you."
"No, it bloody would not," Max replied. "I spent three years living in a tent. I am not going to spend more time outdoors than I must. You three may enjoy yourselves; I am returning to my room to read in peace." He gathered his books and rose, paused at Kelcey's seat to lean down and kiss him briefly before letting himself out and heading down the hall toward the stairs, then up another hall toward his own room.
He heard the footsteps coming up behind him, moving swiftly, stepped aside to get out of the way of whoever was hurrying along. A hand fell heavy on his shoulder, jerked him around, and Max barely opened his mouth to protest before he was punched in the face. He tasted blood from a split lip as he stumbled back. He tried to wipe tears from his eyes, regain his footing, but those rough hands grabbed him again, slammed him into the wall, then knocked him to the floor. The man hauled him to his feet. Dazed and in pain, Max could not muster a struggle as he was dragged down the hall.
His captor dug Max's room key from his jacket, and then hauled Max inside and across the room to the table. Max tried to twist free, jerk and kick—and was backhanded for his trouble, then punched in the stomach. Max dropped to the floor, curled in on himself, tried to breathe.
The man hauled him up into a chair, then pulled strips of rough, dirty cloth from his pockets and tied Max's hands and feet to the chair. He clapped Max's cheek as he stood up, giving an ugly little laugh. "Always fun tying up you fancy buggers. The looks on your faces, like you're more offended than afraid. No sense at all, you lot."
"Go to hell," Max replied, but the rest of what he might have said was forestalled by the opening of the door. The man
from before, with the sharp blue eyes and ragged clothes, prowled toward him. What was his name? Max could not recall. He handed a small fold of notes to the hotel footman, waited for him to leave before turning his attention to Max. "What the bloody hell do you want?" Max asked.
"Given your position, I would attempt to recall manners, my lord," the man said. Timothy Kerr—that was the bastard's name. Kerr pulled another chair from the table and positioned it so he sat directly in front of Max, though too far away for Max to get at him easily even if he could move. "I confess I am curious as to how our dear Church managed to wed himself to the brother of the Duchess of Armount. I have been abroad too long."
Max glared. "What the fuck do you want? Come to your point or bugger off."
"Oh, he did pick a feisty one, didn't he? That does not surprise me," Kerr replied. "I require his services. He is not going to agree to help, despite the generous amount I offered to pay him. Since he's proven uncooperative I will have to force the matter. I watched you in the sunroom, and I saw the look on his face when I accused him of being in love."
In love? Ridiculous. "You're assuming an awful lot. Are you always this reckless? It's a wonder to me you're still alive."
"I am never reckless. I know a weakness ripe for exploiting when I see it. Church really should have known better. If he'd done what I asked, everyone would be in a better mood right now."
"Does the money you offered to pay include compensation for being forced to listen to your tiresome prattle?" Max asked—and grunted when that got him another slap. His face had not hurt this badly when he'd tripped and slammed face-first into a marble wall.
Kerr kicked him, and slowly Max looked up at him again. "It makes no never mind to me whether or not he returns here to find you alive or dead."