Sheer Madness

by Laura Strickland

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Laura Strickland

  Sheer Madness

  Copyright

  Books by Laura Strickland

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “The party’s downstairs in the solarium, where my father’s summoning the souls of the dearly departed. You must have taken a wrong turn at the stairs.”

  “No. I don’t want him. I want you.” Abruptly he realized it for truth: he wanted her as only a man possessed of flesh could—and surging flesh, at that. It made no sense, yet he couldn’t deny it.

  She shifted slightly on the balls of her feet the way she had just before she took on the two thugs who’d come through the window. Did she, then, think she needed to fight him off?

  He said quickly, “I’m not here to harm you. Rather, I need your help.”

  She tipped her head. The black hair slid over one shoulder to caress a generous breast. His nonexistent fingers itched.

  “I’m not able to help you.” She waved a hand in the air. “Be gone, spirit, to the next realm.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can.” She leaned toward him, and her gaze moved over him with considerable interest. “Do not partake in my father’s mischief. Spare yourself that. Move on and embrace peace. I dismiss—”

  “No.” He moved closer, and her eyes widened again. “Don’t do that. Don’t send me away.”

  She drew herself up to her considerable height, which had he possessed his body must nearly match his. “But, Mr. Marsh, it’s where you belong.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Give me one good reason why,” she challenged.

  He could give her the very best of reasons. “I’m not dead.”

  Praise for Laura Strickland

  “The world building is phenomenal.”

  ~Daysie W. at My Book Addiction and More

  ~*~

  “Laura Strickland creates a world that not only draws you in, but she incorporates it…seamlessly. …the kind of book that keeps you awake well into the wee hours, and sighing with satisfaction when you’ve finished the very last page.”

  ~Nicole McCaffrey, author

  ~*~

  “As I read I became so involved with the story, I found it difficult to put down the book. …Definitely …an author to watch.”

  ~Dandelion at Long & Short Reviews

  Sheer Madness

  by

  Laura Strickland

  A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Sheer Madness

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Laura Strickland

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0753-4

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0754-1

  A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure

  Published in the United States of America

  Books by Laura Strickland

  available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Dead Handsome: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure

  Off Kilter: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure

  Sheer Madness: A Buffalo Steampunk Adventure

  ~*~

  Devil Black

  His Wicked Highland Ways

  Honor Bound: A Highland Adventure

  The White Gull (part of the Lobster Cove series)

  Forged by Love (sequel to The White Gull)

  The Hiring Fair (part of the Help Wanted series)

  ~*~

  The Guardians of Sherwood Trilogy

  Daughter of Sherwood

  Champion of Sherwood

  Lord of Sherwood

  ~*~

  Christmas Short Stories

  Mrs. Claus and the Viking Ship

  The Tenth Suitor (also appears in Brides of Christmas, Volume Four)

  ~*~

  Valentine Short Story

  Ask Me (part of the Candy Hearts series)

  Chapter One

  Buffalo, the Niagara Frontier, January 1883

  “A strapping sort of wench, ain’t she?”

  The voice issued from the direction of the bedroom window and made Topaz’s eyelid twitch. She’d fallen asleep this night not only with the lamp still burning but with the window cracked, so the words came to her far more clearly than the speaker probably surmised, as did the hissed reply.

  “Shut up, Sam!”

  The first voice, male just like the second, ignored the directive. “I mean, Bert, she’s not exactly a delicate little flower, is she? How are we supposed to abduct that?”

  Topaz lay perfectly still except for that single eyelid which she opened enough to view the room. Her heartbeat accelerated and her fingers curled against the soft sheet that covered her.

  An abduction attempt, was it? Yet another one. Did these fools never learn?

  What a perilous place the criminal mind must be: From all she’d learned, it tended to be narrow as well as corrupt, impetuous, and lacking even a grain of common sense.

  Take these two, for instance; they decided to abduct her on a cold January night with pellets of ice ticking like bullets against the window glass and a wind blowing straight off the Niagara River. They failed to study their potential victim, and they scaled the house to what had to be a dangerous perch on the ledge outside her window. They were, quite plainly, too stupid to continue drawing breath.

  Weren’t they aware of what had happened to the last idiots who attempted to abduct her?

  “Shut up, I tell you!” said the second voice, which was deep, raspy, and unquestionably menacing. “She’s one female, ain’t she? How hard can it be?”

  Topaz’s lip curled, and she tensed in every limb. She knew she lay like a sacrificial l
amb atop the bed, covered only by the sheet, a tableau to the eyes of these peeping Toms. Part of her wanted to shrink from their prying eyes; the other part ignited with rage.

  “Get that window open.”

  “Damn, Bert, what kind of woman leaves the window cracked on a freezing night like this?”

  “Lucky for us she did. Over the sill with you, and keep her from screaming.”

  “All right, all right. But you’re carrying her down.”

  The window slid up. Topaz moved her hand just enough to ease the stiletto knife out from under her pillow. The silken feel of the hilt against her palm lent reassurance.

  The first of the two men scrambled over the windowsill. His feet hit the bedroom floor at the same moment as Topaz’s. She came up poised on the balls of her feet with the knife held in front of her, in a fighting stance.

  Her potential abductor had landed not three feet from the foot of her bed. He wore a rough coat sprinkled with snow and a cloth cap pulled all the way down to his eyebrows, and stood no taller than she. No wonder he worried about manhandling her.

  His startled gaze moved over Topaz, and his eyes bulged. “Sweet Jesus!” he breathed.

  His companion came through the window and jostled him aside. A bigger man with wide shoulders and fists the size of hams, he had a face like an unpeeled potato, only twice as ugly.

  Topaz smiled at him.

  “She ain’t screaming,” said the shorter man. “Why ain’t she screaming, Bert?”

  “Because I have this.” Topaz flexed the fingers that held the knife. “Gentlemen, you are trespassing. If I gut you, the law is on my side.”

  The little fellow shrank back to the window, proving himself marginally smarter than his companion. The wind blew the white lace curtains around him like a wedding veil.

  “Come on, then,” Topaz told the other fellow. “Try and abduct me.”

  His face creased in a ponderous scowl. He came at Topaz with his arms spread like the pincers of a crab, his big boots crushing the soft carpet.

  Topaz narrowed her eyes, peering through black lashes, and tossed her head. She rose up on her toes and prepared to spring.

  Her brother, Sapphire, had taught her how to fight some years ago, before he lost interest, as he did in most things. Topaz had kept up with it and now far outdistanced Sapphire in prowess. She figured if her father ever lost his great fortune, she could find work as an assassin.

  She watched her opponent’s eyes, set beneath filthy, scraggly eyebrows, and when he blinked she leaped, much in the manner of a striking cobra.

  The sheet which had come up off the bed with her fell, leaving her naked as she always slept. Not a dainty miss, no—she was, as the men had already observed, no delicate flower. But her proportions, so she believed, must be enough to take any man’s breath away.

  The man standing at the window swore—or perhaps implored God. The bigger fellow balked, his eyes falling predictably to Topaz’s chest, which provided just the distraction she needed.

  She struck a blow of exquisite precision that laid his cheek open. Before he could blink, she struck again, her blade cutting through his coat at the shoulder.

  He stopped like a bull hit between the eyes with a hammer.

  The other fellow whimpered, but Topaz didn’t spare him a glance. Instead she watched the blood well in the cut on her opponent’s cheek and waited for him to make a decision. Had he had enough?

  The wind streamed in through the open window and lifted gooseflesh all over Topaz’s body.

  “Frigging crazy bitch!” said her opponent and came after her again.

  The next few moments proved vigorous and exciting. When they ended, Topaz was breathless, her black hair wrapped around her like the threads of a cyclone. Her opponent knelt on the floor clutching his arm, from which he bled heavily.

  Topaz jerked her gaze to the little fellow who scrabbled at the frame of the window, as if he wanted to leap through it backwards, and never took his eyes from her.

  “Get out,” she told him softly. “Take your friend.”

  He nodded so violently his hat fell off his head, and he bent down to tug ineffectually at his companion. “Come on, Bert!”

  “Yes, go on, Bert,” Topaz repeated. She reached out a bare toe and nudged his chin. “Leave before I finish the job.”

  He glared up at her, big yellow teeth bared. “You cut me. You’ll pay for that, bitch. I’ll get you, understand?”

  Topaz bent down and glared into his eyes, the now-stained stiletto still in her hand. “You are bleeding on my carpet. Remove yourself.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Or do you want me to curse you, as well?”

  “Witch! She’s a Gypsy witch,” the first man bleated. He seized his larger companion beneath the armpits and dragged him back to the window. “Come on, Bert. Let’s get!”

  Bert, seeping blood from half a dozen places, glared at Topaz. “You’ll regret this night’s work.”

  Topaz frowned at him. “If I ever see your repulsive face again, I’ll castrate you. Understand?”

  The smaller man made a sound very much like a sob. He dragged Bert over the windowsill and onto the ledge, from where they half fell, half climbed back down the rough stone exterior of her father’s mansion.

  Topaz tossed his cap out after him, shut the window, and thumbed the latch. She could see herself reflected in the glass, naked white skin, generous curves, and the long, black hair overlying all. Behind her, over her right shoulder, she caught the reflection of something else—an indistinct shape pale as smoke or steam. She whirled so quickly her hair flared out around her and the breath caught in her throat. A chill chased down her spine, not caused by the fight just past or the cold air filling the room.

  A voice sounded in her mind.

  Impressive performance, lady.

  A long shudder passed through Topaz’s body. She shook her head. Three times in the last two days she’d thought she caught a glimpse of something from the corner of her eye.

  One of her father’s summoned spirits, perhaps, gone astray from the solarium where he did his work—and bled his clients for big money. Amazing what the bereaved would pay for a chance to regain some semblance of their loved ones.

  But Topaz wanted no part of her father’s business. And the spirits he summoned could stay well away from her.

  The latch on her bedroom door rattled an instant before the panel swung open. Topaz snatched up a silk robe and drew it on just as her brother, Sapphire, stuck his head inside.

  “Everything all right in here? I heard something…peculiar.”

  “Just another abduction attempt. I took care of it. Come on in.”

  Sapphire glided in, moving with his usual grace. An undeniably handsome man was Topaz’s brother, with black hair that fitted his skull like the feathers on a raven and deep black eyes fringed with lashes even longer than Topaz’s. The Hathor family showed quite clearly their Gypsy ancestry even if several generations’ breeding with non-Magyars had paled their skin and bestowed upon Topaz eyes of amber gold to match her name.

  Sapphire, with his slim height, flashing eyes, and slight widow’s peak, had been known to more than once make proper ladies swoon.

  Now he gave Topaz a comprehensive look and tipped his head. “Again? I hope you didn’t get more blood on the carpet. Carlotta will be upset.”

  Topaz suspected Carlotta, one of the upstairs maids, had been sharing Sapphire’s bed. She looked down at the plush cream-colored rug, now liberally splashed with red.

  “Damn it,” she said, and scrubbed at the stain with her foot. “I have to get a darker-colored carpet.”

  Sapphire laughed. One of the things that endeared Topaz’s brother to her was his twisted sense of humor, which matched her own. One of the things that annoyed her was his inability to focus on anything for more than ten minutes at a time.

  They were but two of their parents’ brood, the youngest and the only ones left home. Two older brothers, Emerald and Diamond, had flown the coo
p early and now lived in other parts of the country. Two older sisters, Ruby and Opal, had wealthy husbands of their own. The matriarch of the family spent her time—and her husband’s money—living the lavish life of a countess. Judging by her fragile beauty, no one would guess she’d borne so many children.

  Sapphire scrutinized the trail of blood leading to the window and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  “What did you do with your would-be abductor? Toss him down two stories?”

  “Abductors—there were two of them, and they climbed back out.”

  “I’m impressed, little sister.”

  Impressive performance, lady. Topaz heard the words in her head again.

  “You taught me well.” Topaz planted her hand in the middle of her brother’s chest and pushed him down onto the foot of her bed. “And now, dear brother, I need your help again.”

  Chapter Two

  “Speak fast,” Sapphire advised and raised his eyes to Topaz’s. “I have an assignation in a little while.”

  “At this hour?” Topaz shot him a stern look. “And in this weather?”

  He shrugged negligently. “It’s not all that late. Mother’s still up, and Father has a room full of clients downstairs. And who said I’m going out?”

  Topaz bit the inside of her lip. So Sapphire was seducing Carlotta. A pity, because Sapphire’s affairs only ever ended one way, and Topaz sincerely liked the little maid with the unlikely name.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, Brother.”

  “Me?” He widened his eyes in mock innocence. “Can I help it if I’m irresistible?”

  Topaz supposed he couldn’t. A blessing and a curse, she knew—but why couldn’t she have inherited a few shreds of that deadly charm? Instead she got branded with descriptions like “strapping,” “healthy,” and even “hefty.” Not that she carried much extra flesh, strictly speaking. Most of it was muscle. But she would have made a better Magyar warrior than Sapphire.

  “I shall need to have a word with Carlotta.”

  “Yes, but not till morning, all right? It’s a frigid night, and I do like a warm bed. Now you wouldn’t want to keep me, dear sister, so what can I do for you?”

  Topaz fixed him with a stare. She’d once been told by a rare suitor that her gaze was too direct and impossible to endure. Sapphire met it without difficulty.