Even now, with Elizabeth standing beside him and his hand holding hers, he was still wrecked. Two years of agony had receded in the joy of seeing her alive, but her jump had torn a jagged wound through his heart that he didn’t think would ever heal.
He’d been such a fool. From the day they’d met, he’d systematically destroyed every opportunity to win her trust, her friendship…her heart. Two years before, he’d had a chance to help her. Instead he’d tossed away everything he knew about her, and had chosen to chase after the woman he’d wanted to believe she was.
After she’d jumped, he’d tried to make amends. Not to Elizabeth. That would have been impossible. But he’d given a toddling young girl the help that he’d never given Elizabeth, and he’d fallen in love all over again.
Now he had a chance to make amends to Elizabeth. Not to earn her forgiveness, and with no expectation of love; Caius knew he was too late for that. But he could help her now—and make certain she remained free.
He watched her search through the storm behind them. By the clench of her fingers, he knew when she spotted the Mary Elizabeth’s lanterns again. She glanced up at Caius and tugged him closer.
His body stiffened as he bent his head toward her. She couldn’t know the exquisite torture of her heated breath against his ear, the lavender scent of her hair.
She raised her voice over the noise from the engine and propellers. “How long until my father’s airship has caught up to us?”
Caius could have answered her by raising a few fingers to indicate the hours left, but he turned his mouth toward her to speak. A knitted cap covered the shell of her ear. Dark curls nested in the hollow between the curve of her jaw and her blue scarf, dotted by tiny drops from melted snowflakes that sparkled in the lantern light. God, he wanted to kiss those glittering beads away, taste her coppery skin.
With need curling a tight fist in his gut, he told her, “Two or three hours.”
She drew back to look up at him, as if seeking confirmation. When he nodded, she cast her worried gaze into the falling snow and the darkness beyond. Then determination flattened her lips, her brows drew together, and suddenly she was pulling him away from the airship’s stern toward the ladder leading below. She let go of his hand in the companionway. Reluctantly, Caius released his hold on her. He didn’t fear now that she would jump—her posture and expression told him that she was prepared to fight rather than run—but the longing ache in his chest was a continual reminder of how few of these small touches he would have. Whatever occurred with her father would probably happen tonight. Afterward he and Elizabeth would continue on to the Ivory Market, but on that journey Caius would have no more excuses to hold her hand, to lean close as he spoke.
He would be fortunate if she spoke to him at all.
So he glutted himself on the sight of her, trying to memorize every detail as he followed her down the dim passageway to her cabin. At the threshold, he hesitated. He’d pushed his way in earlier to stop her from running before he could tell her of his intention to help. He wouldn’t usually enter a woman’s bedchamber uninvited.
It was a rare occasion when he entered a woman’s bedchamber at all. Aside from Elizabeth’s, he hadn’t been in one for seven or eight years. And before that, a few taverns and alleys, with the image of her face burning on the backs of his eyelids whenever he closed his eyes.
Frowning, she glanced back and gestured him inside. Intended for a single passenger, the layout of her narrow cabin mirrored his. Darkness filled the porthole opposite the door. A wardrobe cabinet had been built into the corner at the foot of the narrow bed. Warm yellow light shone from a gas lamp atop a small vanity.
Her cabin was as empty as Caius’s was. Even to go up on deck, Elizabeth hadn’t left any of her belongings behind. Though her ever-present satchel had been slung over the bed when he’d forced his way in earlier, now it hung across her chest again.
Caius passed her at the door and crossed to the porthole in three strides. Not a thing to be seen outside. He removed his hat before facing her. His long coat was stifling in the warm cabin but he didn’t unbuckle it. He wasn’t here to make himself at home.
Elizabeth swung the door closed. Tugging her scarf from her neck, she eyed him warily. “I can’t trust you.”
Though Caius already knew she didn’t, hearing her say it was an unexpected punch to his stomach, leaving him sick and shaken. But he didn’t react; he only nodded.
Because he knew she had little choice except to trust him now—at least for a little while. Elizabeth knew it, too. She dragged off her cap and tossed it onto the bed, her eyes haunted. “So what do we do now?”
“You don’t have to do anything. You’ll go to dinner and return here to sleep. If they come aboard, I’ll stop them—and by morning you’ll be free.”
“That simple?”
“Yes.”
Unease slipped across her expression, her teeth briefly catching her lower lip before she asked, “How will you stop them?”
By killing them—or getting near enough to it that they wouldn’t pursue her or Caius’s daughter again. But he said, “I’ll have the advantage of surprise. They don’t know I’m here and an injury that incapacitates their legs or arms will force them to retreat. After you’ve reached the Ivory Market, they won’t find you again.”
“And you think that will be simple?” Sudden, wry humor lifted her dark brows. “I should have lain in wait five years ago and maimed you.”
That wouldn’t have stopped him. And even if it had, she wouldn’t have been safe. “Your father would have just sent someone else.”
“But he wouldn’t now?” Realization darkened her eyes. “You don’t really mean to injure them.”
Caius didn’t answer. Uncertainty tore across her features. She looked away from him, shaking her head.
“I don’t want anyone to die.”
Neither did he. But he wasn’t just doing this for her. As long as Willem Jannsen lived, neither Elizabeth nor his daughter would be free.
“That will be up to your father,” Caius said.
Still shaking her head, she sank onto the edge of the bed and rubbed her arms through the sleeves of her coat as if cold.
Or as if afraid. Maybe of him. Many people were. They didn’t meet his eyes in the street and went out of their way to avoid crossing his path. He couldn’t remember when the change had come—whether it had been while he was an apprentice or after he’d become a huntsman. He couldn’t recall any change in himself. One day he’d just realized that no one looked at him as they once had.
Except for Elizabeth. The way she’d looked at him had never changed. Always hopeful and earnest when she first saw him. And always hurt by the time he left her.
It had been the same when he’d caught her two years before. Earnest and hopeful the first week on the airship. Then devastated by the end.
Now she looked troubled and defeated, her voice dull. “How did he find me?”
“By chance.” Her father hadn’t been looking for her; everyone had believed her dead. “He was pursuing me through Norway when he met with an acquaintance of your mother’s, who mentioned that she’d seen a woman who could have been your mother’s twin coming out of a boarding house in Brighton.”
And when Jannsen had abruptly abandoned his pursuit in Norway, Caius had backtracked the man’s path to discover why. The same fear that led people to cross the street to avoid him had helped Caius quickly extract the information from the woman. Within the hour, he’d hired an airship to Brighton.
Elizabeth closed her eyes. After a long second she glanced up at him. “My father was pursuing you? He hadn’t sent Amelia and Matthias?”
“No.”
Confusion creased her brow. “Why? Even if you’re a fugitive…why would he come after you himself?”
“Because you jumped, and I would sacrifice anything to make sure it never happened to anyone else,” Caius said bluntly. “So I destroyed his machine.”
Though tha
t wasn’t the only reason her father pursued him. But Caius didn’t know how Elizabeth would react to the news that her father had created another duplicate—or that Caius had abducted a child that wasn’t his.
That child was his daughter now—and not a substitute for Elizabeth. Caius had never asked or expected his daughter to be like her. But given Elizabeth’s history, he feared she might believe it of him. She might think he was yet another man who couldn’t let go of the woman he loved.
“His machine?” Dismay filled her voice. “You destroyed it?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him, but Caius didn’t think she was seeing his face. That dismay was on behalf of the sanctuary.
It had been an incredible machine, and Caius believed in the necessity of the work it had done. But it had become a terrible device when used as Willem Janssen had.
With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded. “Perhaps it is for the best, anyway. I told my father that machine had become a crutch—and eventually conservationists would have been breeding replicated animals to their own offspring. Better to have a few duplicates spread across different sanctuaries to strengthen a population’s overall numbers and stop there.”
And Caius would hunt for new specimens, if necessary. He believed in that work, too.
“So you destroyed his machine.” Her gaze sharpened. “What did you do then?”
“I ran. To England, first. Then other places.” Though few in the New World, where anyone infected by nanoagents was forbidden from crossing many borders without special sanction. When he’d served her father, Caius had possessed the necessary permissions to travel almost anywhere. As a fugitive, he hadn’t. “Many locations were the same that you’d run to. Chasing you taught me more about hiding than hunting ever had.”
Her quick laugh left a smile on her lips. God, he loved her mouth. Her eyes. The way she tilted her head to look up at him again, not the dismayed stare but her entire face lit by humor.
“Truly?”
“Yes. I learned well from you.” He smiled now, too. “So I avoided the Ivory Market.”
Where he’d caught up to her the last time. She laughed again, nodding as if in agreement—then stopped herself, biting her lip. Uncertain. Nervous.
Her gaze flicked to the mattress beside her leg.
In the next moment she surged away from the bed, standing on the opposite side of the cabin with her back pressed to the bulkhead. Shoulders stiff, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts. She didn’t meet his eyes.
Perhaps remembering the days that had followed, and how he’d tied her after he’d caught her.
Caius remembered those days, too. That had been the most torturous week of his life. Not just because her pleas to let her go had tormented him.
She had tormented him. Her sweetness and her ferocity and her beauty, and her determination to escape, no matter the cost.
And at one point, Elizabeth hadn’t begged or threatened. She’d offered herself to him—her virginity and anything else he wanted. She’d lain in bed with her wrists bound and her face flushed, and she’d asked Caius if he would take her body in exchange for letting her go.
God help him, he’d considered it for a moment. He’d considered climbing into the bed and between her thighs, then pushing deep inside her sweet warmth. He’d considered letting her escape, then returning to her father and claiming that he hadn’t found her. He’d considered giving up his freedom for a few hours in her arms.
Caius had considered it—then had coldly told her that he didn’t want her.
By the flush on her cheeks now, he thought she was remembering that offer, too. Perhaps remembering the lie he’d given in response. Her gaze fell to his mouth. “Why did you kiss me earlier?”
Even as she spoke, dismay returned to her eyes. She hadn’t meant to ask, Caius realized. But she hadn’t been able to help herself.
He couldn’t help himself, either. “Because I’ve always wanted to.”
Doubt filled her expression again—along with the same hurt he’d seen in her eyes so many times. Hurt that he’d put there when he lied, when he’d pretended not to care.
Now it was there because she couldn’t believe that he did. She must think he was playing with her.
“That’s not possible. Never between us.” She looked away and her voice roughened. “I despise you. And I can’t trust you.”
Despising someone wasn’t a reason not to kiss them. It wasn’t a reason not to spend hours in bed with them. Caius had despised her, too, because of how she’d made him feel. He thought now it was the same for Elizabeth. The desire was there between them—it had always been there. He’d known it from her first flirtatious looks in the sanctuary, from those smiles that killed him and made him dream of running off with her. He knew it from the hitch in her breath the second time he’d kissed her.
But she didn’t trust him. That was far more important than desire.
And he’d already accepted that nothing between them was possible. It shouldn’t scrape his heart raw to hear her say so.
Yet it did.
“I know,” he said past the ache in his throat. “And I won’t attempt to kiss you again. After we reach the Ivory Market, we’ll go our separate ways.”
Still not looking at him, she nodded, her eyes bright and her jaw locked.
Upset.
He’d thought hearing that would have pleased her. But maybe she didn’t trust that he’d leave her alone.
Blast it all. He shouldn’t have kissed her. “I only mean to protect you now, and to make certain no one comes after you again. I only mean to help.”
“How can I believe that, Caius?” Her gaze snapped to his, hard and angry. “You hate me. All my life, you’ve hated me.”
“I didn’t hate you.”
Her laugh in response ended as abruptly as it started, as if the sound was too sharp and painful, cutting her as it emerged. Eyes glittering, she looked away from him again.
God damn it. He couldn’t bear to see her cry. He couldn’t bear being the reason for it. And he needed her to look at him, to believe him. Desperation carried him across the cabin, stopping an arm’s length from her. Close enough to touch—but he wouldn’t touch her.
“I didn’t hate you, Elizabeth,” he repeated hoarsely. “I hated that you were everything I wanted and couldn’t have.”
Her gaze shot to his face again. Lips parting, she stared at him. “Why would you tell me something like that when I’ve just said nothing could come of it?”
What would be the point of trying to protect his heart now? He couldn’t damage it any worse than he already had. So he had nothing to hide. And he had nothing to gain or to lose.
“Does it matter what I tell you? Will you trust me? Will you no longer despise me? Does it make any difference?”
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“Then the least I can do is give you the truth. And I never hated you.”
Her chest rose and fell on a short, shuddering breath. Then another. Her gaze searched his face. Still uncertain what to believe.
Her throat worked. When she spoke, her voice was tight and high. “Was it true what you told me on deck—your reason for helping me?”
“Yes.” Unable to stop himself, he took another step toward her. Close enough to kiss—but he wouldn’t kiss her. The confession came more easily this time, but was just as gruff to his ears. “I love you.”
Hope flashed across her expression. Doubt chased it away. “You don’t even know me.”
“I do.”
“We only spent a week together on an airship. You never talked with me before that. And when you did speak to me…” Flattening her lips, she averted her face.
When Caius had, he’d been cruel to her.
Now his love was hurting her, too—because she didn’t believe him. But disbelief wasn’t enough to wound someone. Disbelief only hurt when someone wanted to believe.
He knew that too well.
“I followed you for s
o long, Elizabeth. And I lied to myself about who you were, despite everything I saw and everything I knew about you. Not anymore.”
She huffed out a short breath and pinned him with a challenging glare. “What could you possibly know?”
“I know why the animals are so important to you.”
“Because I’m a naturalist’s daughter.”
“That might be part of the reason. I don’t think it’s all of it. When your father sent me to hunt you down, the first place I wanted to look for you was with your friends. But I discovered you didn’t have any. I thought it proved everything I believed of you—that despite your wealth and beauty, you thought yourself better than everyone, so that when the time came to run, there was no one for you to run to. But everywhere you went, no one said that. They said you kept to yourself, but you weren’t arrogant or proud. And everywhere you went, you were still visiting animals. It didn’t matter what sort. A donkey or a kitten or a cur on the street—petting them if they’d allow it and feeding them if they didn’t.”
She was shaking her head. “That isn’t a secret. My life has always revolved around caring for them.”
In the sanctuary. “Why did you try so hard with me, then—despite every insult I said to you? Because I’m so handsome?”
A laugh startled from her. Her gaze swept over his face. “It must have been the only reason.”
But it hadn’t been. “And because you didn’t have anyone else. I never realized how you were kept secluded. I thought that when you returned to your big house every day, you would have entertainments and friends. But there was only your father and his colleagues…until I came. A boy, only two years older than yourself. And for the first time in your life, you thought you might not be alone with only animals to keep you company. You thought I might be a friend—finally, a friend with two legs instead of four. That’s why you tried so hard.”
“No,” she said, but it was barely a whisper over a broken breath.
“But I didn’t try at all. I should have been that friend twelve years ago. I should have been that friend five years ago, when your father sent me after you. I should have been that friend two years ago, when I caught up to you. So I’m trying to be that friend now.”
Fire & Frost Page 17