Cliff cursed himself silently.
He’d been irresponsible. All through their days on the airship he’d been pulling out dangerously last-second, and he hadn’t made much effort to offer suggestions or alternatives or ask her what she preferred. That had to be the trouble. He hoped it wasn’t anything worse than that.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Sabine replied.
His tense shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank God. I had a sudden terrible fear that you’d realized you didn’t actually want me in your bed after all.”
“Don’t be absurd. But if we’re to live together, we need to discuss family.”
Family. His heart jumped so hard he thought it might bust out of his chest. She was his family. Him and Sabine and Lola. Legal or not, “proper” or not, they were a family. He didn’t give a damn what outsiders might think or say.
“Do you want more children?”
“Yes,” he blurted, almost before she had finished asking. He’d dreamed for years of having siblings for Lola, of more wild, adorable creatures climbing on him, begging to hear stories, shouting for Daddy. Fatherhood had been his single great joy until Sabine had brought a second love to his life. Now he hoped to add to his collection of titles: Scrap Collector, Duke, Father, Husband.
“But it’s okay if you don’t,” Cliff rushed to add. He would not lose her over a hypothetical future. Children and marriage meant nothing if he didn’t have Sabine. “Lola is enough, if that’s what makes you happy.”
Sabine skimmed a finger along the bottom edge of her chestplate. A band of scar tissue about two inches wide marred the skin beneath. “The biomechanologist who patched me up offered me a choice: a bigger plate with less scarring and more protection or one that stopped right here so it wouldn’t interfere if I ever wanted children. At the time I couldn’t imagine a future that would involve any sort of family, but some part of me must not have lost all hope.” She closed her hand over his. “Thank you for finding that part. Forget the condoms. Maybe we will make Lola into a big sister someday. And if not, we are enough.”
They embraced again, holding one another close, sharing tender, loving kisses. It was enough. They were enough. The future would be what it would be. They would try for a baby and he would dream of wild pirate children. They would be intimate and passionate and love one another. Someday he’d work up the nerve to ask her to marry him. Whatever happened, they would be happy together.
Sabine rolled onto her back, taking him with her and wrapping her legs around him. “Make love to me, Cliff. Make me forget that our bodies do come apart sometimes.”
He laughed and nuzzled her neck, dragging his tongue across her salty-sweet skin until she trembled. “Oh, I’ll make you come apart, love. Don’t you doubt it.”
He eased his way into her, loving the feel of her hips lifting to take him in further, her muscles clenching around him. God, she was heavenly. All heat and moisture and throaty moans. His eyes slid closed and he surrendered to the pleasure, riding wave after wave of her ecstasy, reveling in the thrill of her sighs and shudders. When she cried out his name, he let the last of his control slip away and thrust deep, joining her as he lost himself.
52
One month later
“Kinsley. Have a seat.”
Cliff lowered himself into the chair, assessing the man across the desk. Once again he was struck by the casual confidence Evan Tagget exuded. Tagget was short and slight, but he didn’t sit in a high chair or in any way attempt to make his physical presence more imposing. Everything he owned was of the absolute highest quality, but none of it was flashy. Today, his hair was mussed, his sleeves rolled up, and his shirt stained. He looked like he’d come straight from his workshop. Cliff respected a man who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.
Tagget fished in the pocket of his vest and produced two tiny cylinders, each no more than an inch long and half that in diameter. He set them in the center of the desk, along with a small piece of paper with a name and address written in precise, loopy letters.
“I modified the design.” Tagget pulled out a cigarette and touched the head of a small dragon that sat on the desk. The mechanical creature spewed a gout of flame. Tagget lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “The original plan was unnecessarily powerful. These batteries are smaller and will still last well beyond the lifespan of any human.”
Cliff picked up one of the cylinders. “You’re absolutely certain? This is my family we’re talking about.”
Tagget smirked. “Really, Kinsley. You came to me with plans for a device that I could sell for millions or turn into a bomb as easily as I breathe. And now you don’t trust me?”
Cliff had to admit he’d hesitated at first. But Tagget had refunded the money of everyone who’d once purchased the tainted Dynalux luxene. His replacement company, Pure-Lux, had a stellar reputation. And Tagget Industries was the best engineering company in the world.
“The batteries will work,” Tagget declared with absolute confidence. “I’ve given you the name of my biomechanologist. He’s the best, so don’t go to anyone else. Your daughter and your mistress will have hearts far better than your own sorry human one.”
“Thank you.” Cliff tucked the paper and the tiny Hearts of Ra into his innermost pocket. They would remain on his person until he arrived home. “How much do I owe you?”
“No charge.”
“What?” Cliff leaned over the desk, staring at Tagget, certain that must have been a joke.
“I’m a philanthropist, or haven’t you heard?”
Cliff had heard. It’s what had ultimately tipped the scale in Tagget’s favor. Word was he’d lost millions of dollars in business deals over his choice of bride. Most of the rest of his fortune he was slowly parceling out to women’s rights foundations and schools for poor and underprivileged children. And he seemed happy about it.
“I’m willing to burn the plans, as you suggested,” Tagget said, gesturing with his cigarette at the fire-breathing dragon. He pulled the now stained and crumpled design from a drawer and spread it on the desk. “Feel free to do it yourself. My improved design, however, exists both in my brain and in my personal notebook. There will be others who need these batteries. My new biomechanics division will manufacture and distribute them through my medical fund.” He tapped his chest. “My own biomechanics have saved my life. No one should die when we have the technology to save them, just because they can’t pay like I did. What do you say, Kinsley?”
Cliff rose from his seat and extended a hand. Tagget did likewise.
“I’d like to contribute,” Cliff replied.
Tagget smirked again. “I thought you might.”
Sabine’s tea had gone cold and Lola had eaten the last biscuit. Sabine contemplated remarking on both those things, but to do so would interrupt Amy’s oration. Which was rude. Since the point of this exercise was to familiarize herself with the peculiarities of upper-class British manners, being rude seemed counterproductive.
More importantly, Amy might start the whole reading over if interrupted, and Sabine wasn’t about to sit through this twice. She yawned.
Amy sighed and set the book down. “You can’t yawn. Ladies, whatever rank, do not yawn.”
“I was bored.”
“Ladies do not become bored either.”
Sabine rolled her eyes. Amy noticed but responded only with a forlorn shake of her head.
“What if they’re tired?” Lola asked. “Can they yawn then?”
“No. They politely excuse themselves and retire to bed. A lady may claim headache or illness if no other reason for departure can be reasonably cited.”
“So lying is fine, but honest boredom is not,” Sabine scoffed. “Sensible. My tea’s cold. How do I get a new pot in a ladylike manner? Or is it okay to scowl and reprimand the help?”
Amy picked up her gloves and tugged them on in a calm, unhurried manner. She rose from her seat and arranged her skirts. “I think we are done for today. I
will have to reevaluate my planned lessons. It seems I was not suitably prepared for the magnitude of this task.”
“Amy, dear.” Luella rested a gentle hand on her lover’s arm. “You don’t have to make her a perfect duchess. He’s never going to be a perfect duke. Truthfully, it would only disappoint people. They’re all enjoying the scandal.”
“Well, this looks shockingly domestic,” Cliff’s deep voice intruded. He strode into the room. “Ladies at tea in the parlor? Maybe I have the wrong house.”
“Daddy!” Lola leapt from her seat and raced across the room to embrace him.
“Nope. Not the wrong house.” He held out an arm to hug Sabine and gave her a kiss. “I have treasures for you both.”
Lola did a little dance. “Yay! Treasure!”
“Any news since I’ve been gone?” Cliff walked to the table and poured himself a cup of the cold tea. He took one sip, then pushed it away.
“I’m damned glad you didn’t go to San Francisco, because there’s just been a massive earthquake,” Sabine replied.
“I heard.”
“Closer to home, your report about Barton and his house and activities have led to the capture of the gang that styled themselves ‘Barton’s Bandits.’ Barton and Adriana themselves have vanished, along with a great deal of money. My guess is we’ll never hear of them again.”
Cliff nodded, pursing his lips. “Good. There was news circulating in Paris that you should be aware of. Talk of Redbeard and a marauding all-female crew. I’m a bit concerned that someone has taken over what he left behind. Someone has stolen a great deal of cargo in the last two weeks, but the ship is reportedly too light and fast to be caught.”
“She might be terrible at some things, but she’s an excellent pilot.”
“What?”
Sabine grinned, wiggling with excitement the way Lola often did. She’d been waiting to tell him this story. “Yvette. She’s adopted the name Redbeard and used it to recruit her own crew. She’s his perfect heir. Friendly to us, and she’s his natural daughter.”
Cliff’s eyebrows lifted behind his red-rimmed spectacles. “She is?”
“That’s why she was allowed to be a Daughter, even though she was disobedient and a terrible spy. She was his biological daughter, by a young French prostitute—who later made a name for herself. You know her as Madame Séverin. She must be a proud mother now.”
“Damn. Small world.”
“Isn’t it?” Sabine threaded her arm through his. “Let’s get out of this silly room so you can show us the treasures.”
They walked out to the garden together: father, daughter, and mother. Maybe. Hopefully. Lola wasn’t calling Sabine “Mommy” yet, but the other day she’d asked, “Do you have to marry Daddy to be my mommy?” Sabine had stammered something noncommittal, caught entirely off-guard.
“So,” Cliff began, letting the word hang for a moment before continuing. “Treasures number one and number two: tiny Heart of Ra batteries.” He showed off one of the miniature devices, then carefully tucked it away. “We’ll schedule a date to travel to Cambridge where we’ve been referred to a biomechanology specialist. No more fueling or winding.”
Lola whooped. “Me and Sabine are going to be exactly the same!”
Cliff beamed at her. “Treasure number three.” He reached into his large outer pocket and produced a small mechanical scorpion, which he handed to Lola. “Tagget Industries special. She will respond to your voice.”
Lola hugged the tiny bug-dragon, plopped down on the ground, and began to shout commands at it. Cliff and Sabine walked on, hand-in-hand, laughing.
“Where’s my second treasure, Duke?” Sabine demanded in mock annoyance. “Don’t I deserve a voice-controlled monster, too?”
“Yours is… smaller.” He stepped back, staring into her eyes, shifting nervously.
Sabine’s every muscle tensed. Her heart vibrated. Cliff pulled out a tiny box and opened it. A pair of matching gold rings sat on the velvet. One for each of them.
“I want to marry you, Sabine,” he said, half-whispering. “If that’s not what you want, that’s okay. But I wanted to at least have some symbol of what we are to one another.”
Sabine gently lifted the smaller of the two rings, her hands shaking, her eyes watering. Etched into the gold were the words, “Mein Schatz. My treasure.” She burst into tears.
Cliff slipped his own ring onto his finger and drew her into his arms, resting his head atop hers as she sobbed into his chest. “What do you say, love? Will you marry me? Or will we remain as we are forever and ever?”
Sabine wiped at her eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll be a terrible duchess. Amy was trying to give Lola and me lessons on how to be a proper lady, and we’ll never take to them. But I don’t care in the slightest.”
“Nor do I. And I think pirate duchess sounds brilliant.”
Sabine kissed him, long and deep and lingering, until a small child wedging herself between them broke them apart.
“Now will you be really my mommy?” Lola asked.
Sabine hugged her. “Yes. Absolutely. Your daddy and I can get married today, even. We’ll all fly up in my ship and I’ll declare us married.”
Cliff frowned. “Um…”
“You don’t like that idea?”
“I don’t hate it, but I was hoping for something more public. Maybe a fancy church, flowers, bells ringing. Lola in a beautiful dress leading the way for you while I stand by the altar weeping tears of joy. Lots of newspapermen with cameras.”
Sabine laughed. “Admit it, Hartleigh, you’re a romantic.”
Cliff shrugged. “I suppose I am.”
“Very well, I accept. You can have your fairytale.” They kissed again and this time Lola applauded. “And as we say in Germany, ‘and if they haven’t died, then they are still living today.’”
“I like the American way,” Lola replied. “And the duke and the pirate lived Happily Ever After. The End.”
EPILOGUE
Chicago Tribune, July 30, 1911
Yale Expedition Discovers Lost Inca City
Historian Hiram Bingham of Yale University has confirmed the existence of a previously forgotten city of the Inca Empire high in the Peruvian Andes, at a site known as Machu Picchu. Mr. Bingham notes that the site possesses many fine buildings and high quality stonework. Future expeditions are planned to excavate and further explore the area. While Mr. Bingham is officially the first to bring this discovery to the Western World, there is some question as to whether others reached the site before him. Markings found on a wall indicate that another explorer may have visited in the past, and the nearby remains of a crashed airship testify to the grisly end of an earlier failed expedition.
England, January 1912
“Avast!”
Cliff dodged the wooden cutlass and continued dismantling the automatic rotating clothes rack he’d removed from the wardrobe. It was hopelessly broken and probably had never worked well in the first place, but it contained some saleable parts. With luck he’d have it apart within the hour and they could be done with this house by dinnertime.
“Surprise!” shouted a second young voice from his opposite side.
They always tried to flank him. Cliff twisted to avoid the point of his daughter’s blade, then dropped his screwdriver and grabbed both children by the sword arm.
“Got you, you little mischief makers!”
Something jabbed him in the back and he yelped.
“The Duke of Hartleigh is our prisoner,” intoned a serious voice. “He will be held captive until a ransom has been paid.”
“Et tu, Lola?” Cliff released the twins and raised his hands in the air. “Very well, I surrender.”
The younger kids whooped as Cliff turned around to face his traitorous teenager.
“I thought you were working today. Shouldn’t that put you on my side?”
Lola shrugged. “This house is boring. Nothing but papers. I’m sick of papers. Playing was more fun. Pay
up.”
Cliff dug into his pockets and jingled the handful of nuts and bolts he found. “Here’s the ransom for you. Go get it.” He scattered the shiny scraps across the room.
“Treasure!” Max shouted. He and Ilse scrambled to gather up as many little pieces as they could find. Cliff wouldn’t tell them, but sometimes when he needed a part he went poking through their treasure chests.
“Junk,” Lola muttered. “I demand a higher price. A piece of candy, at least.”
“When do I ever carry candy? Some little pickpocket would swipe it.”
Lola waved her toy sword in a lazy but well-practiced motion. “I suppose you’ll have to remain my prisoner forever then.”
Cliff looked past her to the doorway. Sabine shimmed sideways through the entrance, her arms full with an enormous portrait.
“I’m not worried,” Cliff said. “Your mother will rescue me.”
“Again?” Sabine set the portrait down and propped it against the wall. “Found that behind the big tapestry in the library. Everything’s down from the walls now. What am I rescuing you from this time?”
“Lola is holding me for ransom. Demanding candy.”
“Or money,” Lola suggested.
“Mommy!” Ilse came tearing across the room, her hands full of metal bits. “We have the treasure! Look! I found the biggest, sparkliest one!” She proudly held up a gleaming cap nut.
Max pouted. “Hmph. Well, I get to be a duke someday.” He stuck out his tongue at his sister.
Cliff stepped between them before he had to listen to another “dukes are stupid” argument. Six years in and he was still learning both the perks and the responsibilities of his title. Explaining all that to a five-year-old was impossible.
“Titles are no more than words,” he said instead. “What matters is that you all learn to work together as part of the family business or you study hard and find your own way to contribute to society. Being born with money doesn’t mean you get to be a lazy good-for-nothing. Not in this family.”
“Yeah,” Lola agreed. “Let’s all get to work and finish this house so we can go back to Chicago.” She picked up Cliff’s discarded screwdriver and took over where he’d left off.
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