The gentlemen sat, the meal began, and Emme’s friends regaled her with tales of the day. She laughed with them, soaked up each detail, and felt extraordinarily fortunate to have loved ones who cared for her. It helped ease the sting of the last few days—weeks, even. The sadness and frustration she’d felt while at home, her current worry about the shifter cause, and the self-doubt in the back of her thoughts that often crept forward and taunted her belief in herself were banished in the warm glow of friendship.
They finished the meal, and Lucy directed the removal of the table and dishes. The furniture in the room had been pushed back, leaving a large empty space that Lucy proclaimed was now a dance floor. She produced a Victrola that Emme was fairly certain hadn’t been there moments before and cranked the handle, producing the sounds of a recorded waltz.
Amidst laughter and cheers, the couples matched up. Emme looked awkwardly at Oliver, who extended his hand. “May I have this dance?”
She looked down at her foot, unwilling to spoil Lucy’s fun but doubtful about her ability to participate.
“We shall move in very small circles,” Oliver promised. “I’ll support you.”
His words echoed through her head, and she nearly grew emotional. He was her support, always. Even in times of stress and antagonism, he hauled her away from danger. She thought of all the times he’d disrupted rallies, jumped into the thick of the melee, and while his primary aim had been to stop the chaos, he always managed to snatch her from harm’s way just as it was about to descend upon her. Looking at him now, appreciating the broad shoulders, the sun-kissed face and hands that evidenced time spent outdoors in the warm summer months, she thought of all the times he’d bodily tossed her about in the name of law and order and regretted she hadn’t known at the time to appreciate it.
She smiled and took his hand. “I must apologize in advance for your sore feet.”
“Nonsense. I’ve seen you dance before. You’ll manage an injured ankle without fuss. Would you be more comfortable with the crutch?”
She laughed. “No. Remember to be patient, though.”
“Always.” He stepped close and splayed his hand wide across her back, holding her right hand securely. She placed her other hand on his shoulder and leaned on him for support. True to his word, he moved slowly and in small steps to accommodate her limp.
They swayed in silence for a moment, and she looked at the others, who were so clearly happy together. She loved them all, had grown up with Isla and Hazel, and her heart was full as she watched them dance with their husbands. She laughed self-consciously and shook her head. “I am sorry you are saddled with a wounded partner.”
“I am not. As a matter of fact,” he said, his mouth close to her ear, “I believe the benefits far outweigh any negative.”
She smiled. “And how is that?”
“I am holding you much closer than propriety allows. But I must, you see, or you will fall.”
She tipped her head up and laughed, torn between affection and frustration. “I do believe you are a shameless flirt at heart.”
The surprise in his eyes was genuine. “Now there is one thing I have never stood accused of.”
She was dubious. “Truly? You’ve never used your considerable charm to comfort or placate a desperately pathetic woman laboring under a mountain of stress?”
“My considerable charm?” His eyebrows rose high, and he stopped moving altogether before something dawned in his eyes and he shook his head. He began moving again, turning her away from the others before ducking his head to catch her eye.
“You are somehow under the impression that my . . . attention to you this afternoon was prompted by an errant sense of duty to a woman who is most certainly not pathetic?” He laughed softly, continuing, “And with my considerable charm? Emmeline. Have you forgotten who I am?”
She wrinkled her brow, disgruntled. “My nemesis.”
“That is correct. Your number-one nemesis, who has managed a small smattering of charm because of the one woman alive capable of bringing it to the surface.” He paused, and when she remained silent, he added, “Emme, I am not toying with you. If you believe nothing else, you must know that.”
“You patted my hand,” she muttered and tried to look anywhere but at him. His broad shoulders blocked her view of the room, however, so her efforts were for naught.
“I patted your—”
She looked up at him. “You patted my hand and called me ‘enchanting.’”
The corner of his mouth curled up even as his eyes held clear astonishment. “You are enchanting—I apologize if you find it offensive. And as for patting your hand . . .” He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Would you rather I had kissed you again?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Anything other than a brotherly pat on the hand and a laugh.”
“Emme.”
She looked up at his eyes, which was a mistake. They were warm and astute and saw into her soul.
“I would love nothing more than to lock the world away and spend the day alone with you. We cannot do that, so I settled for a compliment—a sincere one, mind you—and an innocent pat on your hand.”
“At least it wasn’t on my head,” she muttered but was inwardly mollified, even happy.
He chuckled, and she braved another look at his eyes, at the mouth so close to her own that had kissed her so desperately back on the beach when he’d been terrified for her.
“Ah, Emmeline,” he murmured, “you mustn’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I shall have to stop right here and kiss you. Perhaps that would prove my sincerity and disabuse your notions about my flirtatious proclivities.”
Her lips curved. “In a room full of people? Detective, how absolutely shocking. You would never dare.”
His eyes glinted. “I never could resist a dare. You might consider watching what you wish for.”
They were barely moving; Emme realized their embrace could be called a “dance” only in the loosest of terms. He pulled her fractionally closer, and she choked back a horrified laugh, turning her face into his shoulder with a quiet squeal.
“Aha,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice. “Finally.”
She looked up at him. “What does that mean—‘finally’?”
“It means you flinched first, and I have finally called your bluff. I have outshocked the unshockable Emmeline.”
“So you do not wish to kiss me,” she murmured.
“Oh, no, I most definitely do. I am not one for exhibition, however.”
She had a difficult time catching her breath, and it had nothing to do with an aching foot. Her feelings for him had always been extreme, and she remembered the conversation they’d had the night they’d spent under the tree. It should be little wonder that she would love him now so much it filled her entire heart, when before, her frustration with him had existed in equal measure.
He was reading her thoughts, he must be, because he said quietly, “You and I have some things to discuss.”
She swallowed. “Oh?”
He nodded.
“What sort of things?”
The music drew to a close, and the others clapped and chatted. Oliver still held her, and she had no desire to move away. Ever.
Eventually, he shifted, and she blinked. He helped her to a settee pushed against the wall, and she sank down, quietly releasing a slow breath. Hazel caught her eye from across the room and raised a single brow before curving her lips in a smile. Sam drew her attention, and she turned her gaze from Emme, who realized she wasn’t fooling anyone. They must all see that something was simmering between Emme and the detective, and she wasn’t certain what she would say if any of them asked.
Oliver sat with her while the others danced three more waltzes. Eventually coffee and cake were delivered, which Lucy
had, of course, arranged, and while the group enjoyed the treats, they played several hands of cards. Emme was pleased to note that she and Oliver made quite a competitive team.
The friends traded stories and memories, and Emme was delighted to hear the gentlemen tease each other and share amusing anecdotes. Each man had his own talents and strengths, and they complemented one another well. Emme had never seen Oliver with them in prolonged, casual interaction, and she realized that, in some ways, he was still their captain. He was older than the rest by a handful of years, but aside from that, he carried an air of authority about him the other three respected.
As the hour grew late, the little party naturally disbanded. Emme thanked Lucy profusely and embraced them all. Each couple left and headed toward their own rooms, and Emme entered through Oliver’s door.
Oliver quietly closed the door and looked at her for a moment before removing his jacket and then his cuff links, setting them on the small writing table. He smiled. “A lovely evening.”
“Yes.” She was finally feeling the strain of having put weight on her foot most of the day, but she didn’t want to leave him just yet. She told herself she would wait for Gus’s return with whatever news he might have discovered and then turn in for the evening. She sank into a soft chair by the fireplace and sighed.
“I mentioned the need for a discussion, of sorts.”
She leaned back in the chair. “Yes, you did.”
“No time like the present.”
Emme’s heart stuttered. “Perhaps we ought not speak of anything theoretical until the Summit is finished. It is possible your intentions may change or diminish when there is no longer any danger to me.”
“Perhaps it is your intentions that may change or diminish?” He sat in a chair by her, leaning forward, closer to her, and bracing elbows on knees.
“I know my own feelings,” she whispered, “and they will not change.”
His lips curved in a smile. “I know my feelings as well. Nor will they change.”
She swallowed and looked away. “You might change your mind. One never knows which way the bonds of affection will turn.”
Her family circle had been small and secure until her mother had met Ronald O’Shea. Everything had changed, and if a mother’s love was not constant, what hope was there for anyone else?
“Emmeline.” He waited until she turned her gaze to him. “Do you remember our first true conversation in your library? What was my point of reasoning when we spoke that night?”
Her brow creased. “I confess, it is rather a blur. You said many things that night.”
“The most pivotal of which is that I am constant. I use all information at my disposal, but I also trust my instincts. Implicitly. In this, we are not so very different. Yours is a world of feelings, of emotions. And I also know mine.”
Her eyes burned with tears, and she drew in a shallow breath.
“Emme, you have been riddled with doubt about the Summit meetings and your abilities. I’ve seen it under the surface. Combine that with a spectacular dive from a commercial airship with its subsequent consequences, and I believe you are strung tighter than a bow, taut with uncertainty.”
She looked away, and he rubbed her knee. “I believe wholeheartedly in you, Emmeline O’Shea. I have seen you at your fiercest, and you are magnificent.”
She rolled her eyes. “To you, I am a menace.”
“To me, you are a force of nature. You are stunning and brilliant and possess a heart big enough to care for the entire world. I am not one to express my thoughts much, and in the last few days, I believe I’ve spoken to you more than I’ve done to all others in my life combined.”
She smiled and stretched her hand out. He took it and rested it on her knee.
“I love you, Emme.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I apologize for burdening you with it now, but perhaps it will serve as a support in the days to come.” He swallowed, waiting for her to respond.
She tugged on his hand, pulling him to her. He knelt next to her chair, and she placed her hands on his face. She kissed him. It was soft and tender, and she pulled back slightly before he’d even had a chance to respond.
“You could return the gesture,” she said against his lips.
“You could be patient and give me a moment.” He straightened up on his knees and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close.
She smiled, her hands still on either side of his face, and kissed him again. She moved her hands and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair and sighing as he deepened the kiss. She wished the world would melt away, that they could go someplace safe and alone, no threats, no enemies, no danger. She reveled in the fact that he kissed her because he loved her, because he wanted her—her, not her beautiful sister or someone less complicated who respected convention and always followed the rules.
The door to the corridor rattled. Oliver tensed, and they both looked at it. Before they could move, a key turned in the lock, and the door swung open. It was Gus, wide-eyed and breathless, one hand braced on the doorframe, the other against his chest.
Oliver’s hands still rested on Emme’s waist, her arms still around his shoulders. “I didn’t realize a vampire could become winded,” Emme said.
“I suppose the level of prowess is commensurate with prior abilities.” Oliver sighed quietly and rose, and Emme grasped his hand to pull herself up. He retained hold of her fingers, intertwining them with his.
“Apologies,” Gus said, “but I bear distressing news.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Your brother,” Gus said to Oliver.
“Lawrence?” Oliver’s features froze. “What of him?”
“He is here.”
Emme stared at Gus, uncertain how to process what he’d said.
Oliver tensed, and his fingers tightened on hers. “Where? When?” he barked at Gus.
“Outside the hotel. I saw him through the window. I crept out for a look but didn’t see him. I did catch his scent.” He swallowed. “I did not search long or far, however.”
Oliver ran his hand through his hair. “I would not expect you to, Gus. Thank you for even this much. We do not know what he’s capable of.”
“I do know what he’s capable of,” Gus murmured. “Sir, I have not spread the word that you wish to speak with him. It is possible he is here to spy on the Summit meeting attendees; perhaps this has nothing to do with you or Miss O’Shea.”
“Regardless of his aims, it is time I met with him. I must learn his game, once and for all.”
Gus moved forward. “I am a very good tracker, sir. When I was an ordinary human, I was known for my exceptional culinary skills, especially as it concerned herbs and spices. Now that I am, er, enhanced, my sense of smell is exceptional. That is what I meant earlier when I said I smelled Mr. Reed—Lawrence, that is. I can help you track him, if you wish.”
Oliver shook his head. He released Emme’s hand and paced the length of the room. Emme’s anxiety rose, and she felt as though the walls were closing in. She had only two days until she was to speak to the council that would meet before the midnight vote, and she couldn’t believe another block had been tossed in their path.
Oliver stopped pacing. “Gus, I will do a quick search of the grounds around the hotel. If Lawrence is here to see me, he will know I’m there. You must remain with Emmeline.”
She shook her head. “Oliver, that seems rash. Why not wait to see if he contacts you?”
“I would rather draw him as far away from you as possible. That is why Gus must remain with you.” He turned to Gus and pinned him with a stern look. “At all times. You understand?”
Gus swallowed and straightened his spine. “Indeed, sir.”
Emme rubbed her forehead. Everything was moving too quickly, and she wasn’t s
ettled with any of it.
Oliver grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “I will find Lawrence, ascertain his intentions, and return quickly. I’ll not even interact, if possible.”
“He will know your scent! Oliver, I do not feel right about any of this.”
He sighed, still holding her shoulders. He was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then shook his head. “We’ve no choice. I’d rather end it now.”
He released her and retrieved his cuff links and jacket, his expression a thundercloud. “I ought to have known,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I should have become familiar with his life and dealings long before now. It is so very typical of him. A showman. Manipulative. Plays games and fancies himself cleverer than the rest of the world.”
Gus nodded. “An amazingly accurate assessment.”
Oliver adjusted his collar. “Emmeline, do not leave your room. Do not leave Gus.” He looked at her, eyes fierce. “I promise—”
“Go, find your brother, and for heaven’s sake, take someone with you—not Miles, of course, but Daniel or Sam. You have a silver knife?”
He pointed at his boot. “If Madeline ever returns your message, ask her if Crowe mentioned anything to her, anything at all. I’ve not heard from him since last evening.”
She nodded, her worry about Madeline growing afresh. Her concern that Lysette was dangerous to her twin was real. With the family keeping company with Committee members, Madeline was sitting in a viper pit.
Oliver turned around from the bed where he was pocketing his police-issue ray gun in his holster. “Gus, do not leave her. And bite anyone who threatens.”
Emme blinked. “I do not know that I want such extremes on my conscience.”
“Bite,” Oliver repeated, looking at Gus.
Gus nodded. “Sir.”
Oliver grasped Emme’s shoulders again, pulled her forward, and placed a firm kiss on her lips. “I’ll not be long.”
Brass Carriages and Glass Hearts Page 19