by Bonnie Dee
Today she wore a light green gown that made her autumn-colored hair practical y glow. She wore her coat unbuttoned over it so he could see the gown beneath. She smiled and raised a hand when she saw him, then hurried around the pond toward him.
"Hel o, Mr. Dash."
"Just Dash," he reminded her, and then he didn't know what else to say or do. Should he bow, or maybe take her hand and kiss the air an inch above it? What would a gentleman do? He had no idea and he was no gentleman anyway. So he jammed his hands in his pockets, turned and walked away from the pond down one of the paths.
Victoria fel into step beside him.
"Did you find out anything?" he asked.
She nodded and the little hat on her head bobbed. A toque, he believed they cal ed it, a sil y confection covered with lace and ribbon. But it looked pretty on her and it occurred to Dash that she might have dressed nicely with him in mind. Interesting.
"I sent a message to the Commission yesterday explaining my absence from the meeting by saying I'd taken il . I asked to reschedule and said I wished to bring a couple of people with me. The Commission sent a note this morning, setting an appointment for Tuesday next."
"That's good."
"It wil be up to your people to present their case. I've merely provided the opportunity and I have my own agenda to discuss."
Dash was thril ed by how easily they'd got what they wanted, but nervous at the prospect of actual y standing before the Commission for Animatronic Affairs. It had been easy to complain and vilify the organization from a distance. Now he and Jones must present a wel -spoken case and lobby for their cause.
Victoria continued, "I also spent some time with the police yesterday but learned little about the kil ing other than what was in the papers this morning. Your Lizzie's murder fol owed the same pattern as the others."
"Her heart was missing." Dash had read the newspaper too.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"This madman must be keeping them somewhere. Why else would he take them?" He refused to utter the darker possibility that perhaps the man was eating them.
"One of the detectives told me it isn't uncommon for a murderer to take a memento from the crime scene."
"The hearts are like hunting trophies."
"Yes. It would appear so."
"Christ," he exhaled, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. "I feel so useless. I want to do something but there's nothing I can do."
"I'm sorry." She wrapped her hand around his and squeezed it.
Dash looked down at her soft, pale hand, a lady's hand, which had not been reddened, roughened or cal used by work. Their business here was complete, her message delivered. He should pul away from her and leave now. Nothing could come from their further association. But, oh, how pleasant it was to walk in the park and simply hold her hand.
"Look." Victoria let go to point to a hurdy-gurdy man and his monkey. A flock of children with their nursemaids were gathered around the accordion player and his performing pet. "He's so darling."
Dash looked at the somersaulting monkey. It flipped and rol ed, shot a cap pistol and dropped down onto its side to play dead, then jumped up and held out its paw to accept coins for its efforts.
The little children in their clean coats and straw hats gave the monkey pence, which it deposited into its master's bucket.
Somehow Dash couldn't find the little animal amusing. That tiny, wizened face simply looked sad to him.
"Poor little thing. He doesn't look too happy, does he?" Victoria said what he was thinking. She turned back to the path. "Shal we walk to the carousel?"
The cautioning voice inside tel ing him to get back to his own world wasn't Brownlow's for a change. In fact it sounded a lot like Lizzie. Ye got no business 'ere, Dash. Cut out now.
But he continued to walk beside Victoria, her hand a tantalizing few inches away. If he reached out and grasped it, would she let him hold it? Again he scoffed at his mental state. He hadn't felt this way about a woman since he was fourteen and pretty Mol y Baker had given him a whirl for a few weeks. The ridiculous attraction surging through him now was embarrassing.
"My nanny or Mother used to bring me here about every day of the week," Victoria said. "Having a park nearby was perfect for a child. But it was never as wonderful as when Papa brought me to sail boats in the pond. Those were rare and special times."
He glanced down at eyes focused on the near distance but many years in the past.
"I was always glad I didn't have a brother, or my father mightn't have taken me sailing and taught me al the things he did. I was glad to be his daughter and his son." Her attention returned to the present. "I'm sorry. I'm being a bit maudlin."
"No. I like to hear you speak of your parents. I never had any myself--not that I remember anyway."
Victoria looked at him. "I can't imagine what your life was like."
"And I can barely imagine yours--duck ponds and sailboats, nannies and carousels."
"Would you like to ride the carousel now?" she asked suddenly.
"It's not just for children."
"Um, yes, I think it is."
"Come on." She took his arm and dragged him the rest of the way up the path to the bril iantly painted roundabout that dominated the clearing ahead. It was a glorious gilded beauty with swans and unicorns and elephants as wel as dashing Arabian stal ions. Off-key music drifted from the brass tubes of the cal iope in the center.
Victoria gave him no chance to refuse. She paid the ticket taker and pul ed Dash into the queue of children of al ages waiting for a ride.
"Which wil it be? A tiger for you, I think. I'l show you my old favorite." She pointed to a silvery winged horse that flashed past when the carousel circled around.
Dash shifted from foot to foot. He felt ridiculous and yet ridiculously excited at the prospect of taking a ride. By the time the roundabout had slowed almost to a stop, he knew which horse he wanted--a bay stal ion whose teeth gritted around the bit in its mouth. Its eyes were wide and wild as it ran away with its rider. He could relate to the need to escape from a ride that only went round and round with no hope of anything ever changing.
Poor beast.
As the riders dismounted, Victoria took hold of Dash's hand to lead him to the carousel. He had a strong urge to pul her to him, slip a hand around her waist and kiss her hard right there in front of staring children and shocked nursemaids. Instead he stepped up onto the wooden floor of the ride. He hesitated beside the bay, intensely embarrassed at the idea of slinging his leg over it.
"I don't know," he said to Victoria. "This is sil y."
"I do know. This is just what you need to do. Trust me. Get on."
She looked up at him with those eyes as blue as what Dash imagined sapphires were and he couldn't refuse her. He mounted the wooden horse.
Victoria didn't go in search of her Pegasus but took the horse nearest his, an animal with an eagle's head and lion's body. A gryphon, he remembered from his reading.
The jangling music continued and the horse on its pole moved slowly as the carousel began to turn again. Dash gripped the pole in one hand and watched the people and the park recede.
The il usion that he was remaining firmly in place while they spun around him was strange. Green grass, tal trees, running children al flashed past.
He looked over at Victoria astride her gryphon, which stayed steady beside him. She smiled back at him but said nothing. It was as if they were in a bubble of their own, a magical space that the rest of the world didn't inhabit, a place where nothing bad or painful could touch them.
Dash relaxed and began to enjoy the ride. He closed his eyes and felt the breeze, saw the flicker of sunlight and shadow through his closed eyelids, listened to the discordant tune that sounded like it was meant to be "The Cobbler's Wife." For a moment, he was flying and he loved it.
Al too soon the ride slowed then stopped. Dash blinked and focused on the world around him again. He dismounted from the horse and helped
Victoria from her gryphon.
She looked at him. "Did you like it?"
"Yes. Very much. Thank you." And again it was as if they were in a bubble. The noise and music and scampering children swirled around them, but they were al alone. He was slowly being drawn to her like metal to a magnet. In a moment he would kiss her right there between the gryphon and the stal ion.
Dash shook himself free of the spel and stepped back.
A smal hand tugged on his pants leg and a high piping voice chirped, "Mister."
Dash looked down to see a smal boy with brown bangs brushing his eyes. "Wil you help me get on?"
Dash lifted the lad onto the back of a giraffe. The boy grinned, perching proudly in the saddle, gathering the reins in one hand and grasping the pole with the other.
"You got your balance?" Dash asked. "Hold on tight then and ride hard."
He moved away and Victoria fol owed.
They left the carousel and turned onto a path that led deeper into the woods--away from garden beds and open greens and into a tiny bit of wild land. Were they consciously moving toward a place where they could be alone, out of sight of prying eyes? Maybe.
Dash didn't search his mind too deeply. He just walked.
And when he saw a wil ow tree ahead with branches that hung nearly to the ground, he led Victoria off the path and beneath the leafy shelter. It was like being underwater, cool and dim and green. Dash didn't pause. The moment they were beneath the tree, he pul ed her into his arms and resumed what he'd begun yesterday. He kissed her as if he'd draw the energy from her to bring his own dry soul to life.
She tasted delicious, sweet and cocoa flavored, like maybe she'd drunk chocolate with her lunch. Her lips were very soft and her mouth warm. He was so hungry he wanted to devour her but didn't wish to frighten her with the intensity of his need. He kept his kisses gentle and chaste at first, plucking softly at her mouth, seducing her with little licks of his tongue.
She gasped and opened wider, letting him inside, and her hands pressed against his chest--not pushing him away, just feeling him beneath her palms.
Dash moved his hand from the side of her face to her neck, sliding over smooth skin beneath the fiery mass of auburn hair.
The strands tickled the back of his hand. Her hair was piled on her head as it had been yesterday when he'd taken her. He'd love to plunge his hands into the mass of curls and make them tumble down again.
He slipped his tongue in her mouth, testing the terrain, swirling teasingly around hers until she responded. The slick smoothness of her tongue against his made the ache in his groin grow sharper. His cock felt as thick and hard as his truncheon. Likely he could do some damage with it if he waved it about. The thought made him chuckle.
Victoria pul ed away and drew a breath. "What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm happy is al ."
"Good. I'm glad." She slid her hands around the back of his neck to pul him to her for another kiss.
For many long moments, the world faded away and Dash sank into the pure pleasure of kissing. After a bit, he moved from her mouth to her cheek and jawline and then her neck. Today she wasn't wearing a high col ar so he could kiss and nibble her throat al the way down the slender column to where her heart beat in the hol ow between her col arbones. That steady pulse against his mouth abruptly reminded him of the heart that had been stolen from Lizzie, and a pang of sadness and guilt shot through him.
He didn't want to feel it. He only wanted to enjoy these precious moments with Victoria. Holding her tight, he pressed his erection into her bel y. He knew she felt it from her surprised murmur, but she didn't jerk away or slap his face. If anything, she clung harder to him.
Dash slid his hands up her back, feeling the bump of each button and picturing them unfastened one by one. Oh, how he'd like to see her without gown or corset or camisole or petticoats. He'd love to lie with her in bed--hers, which must be luxurious--and explore every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands. To have that luxury, that right, would be sublime.
At last, Dash drew back, although he didn't take his hands from around her waist. He looked into her eyes.
"Miss Waters...Victoria, I'd love to kiss you more. In fact I'd like to do much more than kiss you, but I don't want to take liberties. I'm no gentleman, but I do know a lady doesn't expect such things, the kinds of things I want to do with you."
Her eyes were dark, lust-glazed, and her lids half-lowered as she gazed back at him. Her chest rose and fel rapidly.
"Right now I don't want to be a lady at al ." Her voice was low and ragged. She sounded as hungry as he felt.
Then she blinked and looked around them at the swaying wil ow branches that sighed and whispered together. "But I suppose this isn't an appropriate place for such an...interaction. Besides we hardly know one another at al ."
And you're a lady and I'm a thug. Don't forget that, Miss Waters.
She sighed. "I suppose we should resume our walk now."
Or maybe come to our senses and go our separate ways.
Dash straightened his jacket and cleared his throat. "Actual y, I ought to go and share your news with the rest of the committee.
They're expecting me."
Victoria folded her arms and stared at the ground. "We should be sensible, shouldn't we, and not meet again until next Tuesday--or perhaps a day prior in order to plan our presentation."
"A meeting. That would be good," he said, but al he could think was that he wanted to see her alone and spend time with her.
Any kind of relationship between them was clearly impossible, but he couldn't stand to simply let her go.
Victoria uncrossed her arms and looked at him. "I want to see you again. I know it's not practical or acceptable according to society's rules, but I've hardly let either of those things guide my behavior in the past. May we meet again here in the park tomorrow afternoon?"
He couldn't restrain a smile as happiness percolated through him. "I'd like that."
Victoria held out her hand. "Tomorrow then."
Dash took and held it, as soft as the breast of one of the swans that stil glided across the pond. "Tomorrow."
After she'd walked away, he left the park and hiked back to Whitechapel. The very air and the quality of the sunlight seemed grittier and dimmer here, and his earlier elation at the fact that Victoria Waters wanted to see him dissipated under the weight of reality.
Dash was nearly to the Sheep's Head Inn, where the committee would be waiting to hear the results of his meeting with Victoria, when two men grabbed him. He struggled, kicking out with his feet since they had hold of his arms.
"You're under arrest," one of the men said. "Fight and you'l only make things worse for yourself."
Dash went limp, glancing from one man to the other--a portly man with a huge brush of a moustache and beard and his thinner partner, who studied him through a pair of thick spectacles.
"What are you arresting me for?"
"We're taking you in for questioning regarding the murder of Elizabeth Turpin," the man with the spectacles said. "We understand you knew her wel ."
Fear stabbed through Dash as the other detective hauled his arms behind his back and snapped on a pair of handcuffs. Who had told the police about his long friendship with Lizzie and why?
Was he real y being considered as a suspect in the case? But it didn't real y matter. Guilty or not, they'd use this excuse to get rid of yet another of the dregs of London's population.
"She was my friend," he admitted to demonstrate his cooperation, "but I hadn't spoken to her for a long time."
"Hold your tongue. We'l take your statement when we get to the station," the moustached man said, and led him to a waiting police wagon. The spectacled man opened the door and his portly partner pushed Dash inside.
As the door closed behind him, Dash was suddenly very certain he'd never see the world except through bars again. Unless it was on a march to the gal ows.
Chapter Seven
Vic
toria felt like singing but didn't wish to alarm the servants. As a child, when she'd proudly trumpeted a tuneless hymn at church, her mother had politely suggested perhaps she should worship God more quietly. Her father had told her to sing al she wanted to even if it did drive the dog to cower under one of the beds. So she didn't sing now, but music swel ed inside her.
How sil y and strange. She'd read about the effects of sexual attraction on the mind and body but had never experienced them until now. As a scientist, she couldn't help but find her reaction to Dash's kisses and embraces very interesting. As a woman, she couldn't stop reliving each touch or glance they'd exchanged. It was troubling to feel so outside of her normal self, but also extremely exciting.
"Wil you be home in time for lunch, miss?" Patterson asked as he held her coat for her to slip her arms into.
"I don't believe so," she replied pleasantly. "I wil be at the lab working with Professor Samuels this morning and shal stop somewhere for lunch before taking a walk in the park later this afternoon."
"A walk in the park" code for "meeting her lover." Good gracious, was Dash her lover? She'd never expected to have one, especial y after her rejection by Harvey Samuels. Men of her class found her too strange, and even the considerable income from her father's estate wasn't enough to entice them to woo her.
As for her fel ow scientists, although they might admire her mind, none of them saw her as a potential romantic partner. She'd accepted the fact she'd not marry or bear children, let alone know the pleasures of the flesh--whatever those might be.
Evidently it had taken fate--a kidnapping and a man so far outside her social set he might as wel be a different species--to final y bring her the passionate connection she'd secretly longed for.
Could she and Dash possibly sustain any kind of relationship?
She had no idea, and right now she couldn't care in the least as she hummed under her breath and walked the five blocks to the laboratory she shared with Samuels. He was already there, wearing his lab coat and sitting at one of the tables, poring over some data on their recent experiments. The gaslight shone on his bald head and glinted off his spectacles when he looked up at her.