“How do you figure that?” She slid her dagger from his palm and returned the lethal weapon to its sheath.
“If you never wanted to see me again, you should just have said so.” He waited for a hackney cab to clutter past before leading her across the street. “Every Friday that you sent me here on a fool’s errand is a night you owe me.”
“You make it sound so scandalously delicious.” Georgina gave a dramatic sigh. “Very well, kidnap away. I’ve always had a weak spot for roguish pirates.”
“How many have you known?” Greyston chuckled.
She considered that a moment before replying, “Let’s just say, you’re the first one who has attempted to kidnap me and gotten away with it.”
His amusement faded. The statement was ludicrous, as tall as her vibrant tales, but damned if a part of him didn’t believe she’d entangled herself with one or two pirates in the course of her life.
“Almost there.”
“Oh, Grey,” Georgina sighed as they pushed through the stretch of trees to the parkland beyond. “She gets more beautiful every time I see her.”
Greyston was in complete agreement. The sliver of moon cast a silvery glow across the Red Hawk’s body. Flickering light from the lanterns lit inside twinkled behind each porthole like stars fallen down to earth. Her sails furled, the Red Hawk was a sleek masterpiece of innovative design and steam-propelled technology. She was one of a kind and she belonged to him.
As they tromped the damp grass and weeds to the lowered hull door, he conceded that while the woman clutching his arm was every bit as beautiful and unique, she would never belong to him. But perhaps that was part of the appeal.
The wiry silhouette of Jamie, the red-bearded Scots who was his second-in-command, framed the left edge of the entranceway. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who went and caught the one that got away.”
Greyston sent him a warning scowl.
Georgina was more obliging. She gave Jamie a saucy wink as they stepped over the hull’s ridge into the boarding chamber. “I’d love to hear some of your fish tales. I wager they’ll keep me warm in the darkest winter month.”
Laughter rumbled up from Jamie’s stomach. “When you tire of the old man, you and I can make up one of our own.”
“Should I bring a measuring stick?”
“Stop encouraging him,” Greyston muttered, then to Jamie, “Is everyone aboard?”
At Jamie’s affirmative nod, he gave the order, “Fire up the engines before we’re set upon by the park rangers.”
“Oh, my, illegal berthing!” Georgina clapped a hand to her breast and sauntered off. “That is a dastardly pirate deed.”
She knew her way around the ship and walked on ahead to the Galley Grid and up the steel rung stairs, her fingers drifting lightly along the rail as she navigated the narrow passage to his sleeping quarters.
Greyston was content to lag behind, admiring the confidence set in her shoulders and the sensual sway as she moved.
He pulled the lever just inside the door, igniting the gas lamp that swept the cabin with a pale yellow glow. His sleeping quarters were small and sparse, the double bed taking up most of the space. Greyston valued freedom over extravagance. Stacked right on top of the Pilot Cabin, the glass that wrapped the nose of the Red Hawk extended into a dome over more than half of this compartment. When they raced the Aether, he felt one with the streaming skies. On a clear night, he slept beneath the stars.
The first time Georgina had stepped inside here, she’d been entranced by the view. Now she stood with her back to him as she stripped off her coat and tossed it on the bed in a manner no doubt meant to entrance and eclipse any other view. Fawn breeches clung to her long legs and skimmed delicious curves. She removed her hat and shook out her vibrant copper curls. The blade strapped to her thigh caught the gaslight with a menacing glint as she twirled about to face him.
A thousand wicked thoughts enchanted her smile as she undid the top two buttons of her blouse.
Greyston put his back to the door and folded his arms, watching Georgina with hooded eyes and a slow burning fever of desire. In the engine room below, Ferdie stoked the furnace, blasting steam into the circulatory pipes threaded throughout the body of the ship. Vibrations thrummed the air and hummed beneath his feet, settling deep into his bones with the comfort of a heart-bound friend.
“Very well.” Georgina flung her arms wide, stretching the material across her breasts to reveal a teasing glimpse of creamy skin. “Ravish away.”
Greyston almost groaned. Want and longing strained his groin and throbbed heat inside his veins. This woman would be the death of him, and damned if he wouldn’t savour every second until he drew his last breath.
But not yet. “Why did you stay away?”
She brought her arms down, the disappointed pout of her mouth negated by the sparkle in her eyes. “We had our fun, Grey, we were a moment in time to be savoured and then to be done with.”
“I’m not yet done,” he growled.
Her pout reshaped into a smile. “Don’t you know, an inventive lady always leaves a gentleman wanting more?”
Greyston unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “And what of you, Georgina?” he asked, his voice soft and gravel. “Did I leave you wanting more? Is that why you came tonight?”
“Simple curiosity.” Her head tilted back to accommodate his approach, her eyes never leaving his. “I wondered whether you’d still be waiting.”
He reached her, his hand lifting to cup her chin, his thumb dragging at the corner of her lips for a long moment as he looked into her eyes. With his body hardened in pure lust, there should be only one thought on his mind: finishing what she started with those buttons and not pausing until she was naked in his arms. But his fascination with Georgina had always run deeper than her exotic beauty and tantalising curves. Her wild spirit, her complex mind, her tempest soul held him as captive as all the rest.
“Liar.” He pushed his fingers through her hair to tangle in the curls at her nape and brought his head down, his gaze drifting to her slightly parted lips. “You came tonight because, in the end, you couldn’t stay away.”
Her arms wrapped around his hips as she moved into him, one thigh wedged between his legs, her body grazing his erection with deliberate seduction. “Is that the confession you’re after?”
“You want me,” he said gruffly, his free hand landing on her waist, tugging her closer as his mouth covered hers in a hungry kiss, his tongue plunging deep to taste and claim every ounce of her passion.
She kissed him back with the same depth and urgency, as if she couldn’t, wouldn’t ever, get her fill. His blood heated and thickened as she moved against him until it became too much.
He brought his hands up between them to work the tiny buttons of her blouse. Beneath, her corset was a flimsy thing. He gave the cotton a small tug and her breasts popped out, firm and round and pebbled.
Greyston ended the kiss abruptly, flames of want and need burning through the last of his restraint. He pushed her down onto the bed, then stood back to strip his clothes. Her lips curled into a wanton smile as she watched the show, her eyes growing heavy with the same lust that consumed him.
Once he was done, she flipped over onto her stomach and stretched her legs out toward him, boots finely laced up past her knees.
“It takes me ten minutes to get these on,” she purred, well aware he’d never last that long. She wriggled her backside.
Greyston grinned. It took him less than two to remove the boots and her breeches. When she tried to flip back over, he pressed a hand to the base of her spine, keeping her on her stomach.
He gave her provocative backside a light slap. “I think I’ll take this view first.”
She lifted her head to glance at him over her shoulder. Her mouth opened, no doubt to shoot off a saucy remark, but their eyes hooked and the words never came.
Greyston threw a leg over her and covered her body with his. “You are beautiful in a hu
ndred remarkable ways.”
“Only a hundred?” she protested breathily.
He slid her hair aside and kissed her nape. “Given the time..” His kiss drifted down her neck and along the satin skin of her shoulder. “I know I could discover a thousand more.”
Even as his shaft throbbed with granite hardness, a melting sensation spread through the rest of him and softened something at his core. He wanted that time, he realised. He wanted all of it, however long it took.
“Fair warning, Grey,” she said, a throaty whisper loaded with raw desire. “Our story is not meant to be.”
Greyston raised himself a little and fit his hands on her hips, lifting her off the bed so he could slide inside her slick entrance, plunging swift and deep. Her whimper of pleasure almost sent him straight over the edge. He gritted his jaw to control his rhythm until her climax built. Her small cries swept into his blood as she peaked. The tension inside him shattered as he spent his seed and in those few exhilarating moments that the small death lasted, the beginnings of a vow stirred. Georgina and I will never bow to convention. We’ll rewrite our story until it damn well is meant to be.
FOUR
Lily awoke with a start, her eyes flashing wide open. A moment later, she registered the vibrations strumming the Aether as the cause, announcing Greyston’s arrival. With a groan, she closed her eyes and tugged up the covers that seemed to have gathered below her waist. Her skin prickled, awareness pressing through her slumberous state. She rolled her head left, her heavy lids fluttering open again to find Kelan lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, his gaze feasting on her.
A slow grin cracked his bristled jaw as his hooded eyes lifted to her.
His ruffled morning look clipped her heart, pushing up a smile. “How long have you been awake?”
“It was worth the wait.” He reached over, dragging the sheet and quilt down until they were once more gathered at her waist. “Is this the usual day for Greyston’s check in?”
“Every Sunday,” she confirmed, her bones softening as Kelan’s gaze drifted to her breasts. “Although usually at a more decent hour.”
“It’s your sleeping habits that are indecent, sweetling.” His palm cupped her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple beneath the thin cotton of her night gown. “The morning is half gone.”
“Kelan…” Her throat thickened with desire. “Greyston is here.”
“No rush,” he drawled. “We’ve already established this visit is routine.”
His hand moved from her breast to slide the strap of her gown off her shoulder.
A hot blush spread over her entire body as his intentions became clear. The drapes were still drawn closed, but daylight filled the room.
“It’s the middle of the day,” she protested weakly.
“Are you suggesting…” The scar-roughened pads of his fingers grazed her sensitive skin as he tugged her bodice low and then slipped his hand inside “…I wake you at the crack of dawn in future if I want to have my way with you?”
His grin creased wider, deepening the hollow in his jaw and melting her resistance.
“That’s a terrible suggestion,” she said breathlessly.
“I thought so.” He flung the covers clear off the bed and came up over her on his knees, straddling her thighs.
She almost snapped her eyes shut. The instinct was there, a gut reaction, but at the last moment she went against every delicate instinct she’d been raised on.
His hair fell across his face, shading the austere angles. Her fingers itched to push the strands aside, to look upon and adore all that dark beauty she’d once found too hard, too harsh. His eyes sought hers, so dark, so blue, so intense. Her skin tingled and beneath that, deep to the bone, the whole of her burned for him.
Her gaze swept lower, over corded muscle and a thick, jagged scar that ripped the left side of his ribcage. Her heart ached at the reminder that he was not invincible. Every battle he fought could end up being his last.
He hooked the edge of her night gown, his thumb stroking along her inner thigh as he dragged the cotton up. Waves of pleasure rolled through her, but just then an inky smudge snagged her attention, a rune tattooed inside the concave of his hip.
Confusion dispersed some of the languid heat filling her senses. She reached out, her finger tracing the air above the circular design. “What is that?”
The hand on her thigh stilled. “The rune to bind and keep.”
“I can see that.” She glanced up with a small frown. “But why? What is it for?”
“Lily…” His voice was hoarse, a groan of frustration. “Do we have to have this conversation now?”
She swallowed past a lump of her own frustration, her body still craving his touch. Perhaps it can wait. The concession was immediately driven out by a niggling unease. Why a conversation and not a simple explanation? Both Kelan and Greyston had protection runes tattooed on their bodies, a shield to protect them from demon influences. Was this rune different… more?
“Yes,” she said. “I think we do.”
The look in Kelan’s eyes cooled. “The rune binds my seed, Lily, so that you cannot fall pregnant.”
A quietness invaded her mind, pushing out the frustrated desire, the unease, pushing out all else until there was only this sinister swell of pitch black nothing filling her head and threatening to burst.
“Lily, we’re about to go to war with demons. This is not the time to start a family and bring—”
“No!” The quietness fled. She could only imagine how the rune acted like some sort of contraception, binding her demon blood inside her womb, repelling the essence of her womanhood from Kelan. He said the rune bound his seed, but the truth of the matter was, the rune rejected her. She felt the colour drain from her face.
Wriggling out from beneath him, Lily shuffled upright against the headboard, tugging her bodice straight.
Kelan’s jaw tensed. “You surely cannot want to bring a child into this world right now.”
“That’s not the point, Kelan.” Her hand flattened over her stomach. She hadn’t even considered the possibility. There’s no possibility at all. She had no idea how to feel about it. Relieved?
An abrupt sigh tore from Kelan’s lips as he turned from her and slid off the bed.
Lily gaped at him. “Where are you going?”
“The mood is clearly broken,” he said, not sparing her another glance as he gathered a handful of items from his wardrobe on his way to the bathroom. “Besides, Greyston might have brought some useful news after all.”
The bathroom door slammed behind him with an uncustomary lack of control that jarred Lily’s spine more than the bang. She sat there, staring at the closed door, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. It didn’t take long. Once again, Kelan had simply walked away, oblivious to the tangled mess of emotions left behind in his wake.
She shook her head, her mouth twisting in disdain, then anger, and then determination. She was prepared to compromise in this marriage, but she wouldn’t be a dormouse.
Lily flung her legs over the side of the bed and set about dressing while she waited for Kelan to reappear. She chose a warm woollen gown with long, narrow sleeves and a high collar. With Greyston here, a trip to the laboratory was guaranteed. The central radiator system extended down there, what was once the dungeons beneath the original Cragloden Castle, but damp cold seeped from corner to corner and the heat couldn’t seem to stick.
She donned a single petticoat and soft corset that laced up front with satin ribbons. Once she’d pulled the gown on, however, she realised the row of hooks that ran from her nape all the way down to the elegant bustle nestled in the hollow of her spine was hopelessly out of reach. She smoothed her palms over the skirt, interwoven threads that shimmered with a multitude of sunset shades, and couldn’t bring herself to swap the gown out for something more manageable. This morning she needed the feminine extravagance to prop herself up.
She paced the room, glancing at t
he closed bathroom door every other length, waiting, waiting… Goodness, what was taking so long? She was just beginning to wonder if Kelan had escaped out the window when he finally emerged, fully dressed in dark grey trousers and a crisp white shirt. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair neatly combed, none of which helped tame his rugged features. Her breath caught, the flutter at her pulse unavoidable.
His gaze washed over her, his manner distant and impeccably restrained, as if he’d shelved their interrupted scene of carnal pleasure in some locked drawer and promptly forgotten all about it.
She scooped her hair high as she turned, giving him her back. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” he murmured.
As he came to stand behind her, every fibre in her body was instantly, acutely aware of his presence, the pressure of his fingertips as he worked the tiny hooks, his breath on her neck. Her skin heated, absorbing the primal energy he radiated.
She bit down on her lip, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. “Will you be seeking a divorce when…when this is all over?”
“I’m well aware you’re angry, Lily.” He finished clipping the last few hooks and walked around to face her. The gaze he set on her was narrowed, stamped with bone-chilled resolution. “But I’m sorry, that isn’t going to happen. I will never agree to a divorce.”
She arched a brow, but smiled, deciding to ignore his swift decent into dictatorial righteousness. “If we’re to contemplate a real marriage—”
“We’re not contemplating anything,” he cut in smoothly. “This marriage is real.”
“Then you need to take responsibility for it.”
His mouth opened, then flattened as he regarded her for a long moment. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re unlikely to agree on much in our lifetime,” she willingly explained. “I don’t expect you to budge from your moral bearing when it comes to demon warfare, or confide your many secrets. But when it comes to us, husband and wife, you have to let me in, preferably before you make decisions that affect both of us.”
The Dark Matters Quartet Page 71