Table of Contents
Title Page
Foreword
Introduction
IRON HARD
HEART OF THE DAEDALUS
FOG, FLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT
THE UNDECIPHERED HEART
MR. HARTLEY’S INFERNAL DEVICE
A DEMONSTRATION OF AFFECTION
UNDERGROUNDED: HANNAH HAWTHORNE AND THE STRANDED TIME SHIP
1 The Crash
2 Grounded
3 The Underground Children
4 Settling In Too Comfortably
5 The Fight
6 Hannah Defiant
7 The Art of Bathing
8 Airborne Again, A Moonlit Ending
SPARKS
GREEN CHEESE
LOST SOULS
GOLDEN MOMENT
LIBERATED
MAKE YOUR OWN MIRACLES
RESCUE MY HEART
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
ABOUT THE EDITOR
TO OUR READERS:
Copyright Page
FOREWORD
Meljean Brook
Even if you haven’t encountered the term steampunk before picking up this anthology, you’ve probably read or seen something that fits the genre: an episode of “Wild Wild West,” perhaps, or a story in which a time-traveling hero uses his knowledge of future technologies to create a weapon to save the day, or a novel by one of the two forefathers of modern steampunk, Jules Verne and H. G. Wells. Typically set during the Victorian era and featuring advanced steam engine or clockwork technology, steampunk is historical fiction with a speculative twist; it’s silk and steel, corsets and gears, parasols and airships. Tales of alternate histories, extraordinary inventions and their fascinating creators abound in steampunk, all driven by a hands-on, do-it-yourself attitude that is beautifully represented in this collection of erotic steampunk romances.
Do it yourself. In an erotic anthology, such a phrase might signal a writer gearing up for a pun, but that hands-on approach has been a lynchpin at the heart of steampunk’s rising popularity. The aesthetic provides enormous appeal—who can resist the amenable collision of industrial grit and the elegance and refinement of upper-crust Victoriana?—but one glance online or at a steampunk convention reveals that this is a genre and subculture powered by do-it-yourselfers: those who have fitted brass and gears to their slick computer cases and music players, clothiers and jewelry designers who craft one-of-a-kind items for sale, and those industrious individuals who build their own steam-powered machines from the ground up.
In the literary field, authors have taken that attitude and built a steam-powered rocket with it. The very act of writing is, of course, hands-on creation, but steampunk takes it a step farther and throws in a little (or a lot of) do-it-yourself history…and erotic romance gives that history a focus.
Unlike science fiction writers who speculate on the future, steampunk authors have the unique perspective of being able to view the historical period they are writing in—and they are looking at it through twenty-first-century goggles. As beautiful as the dresses are, as civil as the manners were, steampunk writers can’t ignore the constrictions of corsets and gender roles, the effects of imperialism and colonization, the barbaric labor practices and the rigidity of the class system. That do-it-yourself history often becomes a revisionist history that either alters the boundaries of societal structures or keeps those boundaries and includes more voices. In this collection, we see that revisionist history in many forms, but one recurring theme is the liberation of women, the rejection of a defined role and a celebration of their sexuality. These heroines might be wearing beautiful clothes, but the women inside those dresses are much more fascinating.
In “Sparks,” Anna Meadows’s heroine opens her tale with, “I would have been the first to concede how much better things were for me back when I behaved myself.” The same could be said for most of the women in these stories: life would be easier if they didn’t step outside society’s proscribed boundaries. Life would be easier, safer—but constrained, and steampunk heroines aren’t the type to remain still when told to. They seek their freedom and independence, and although that freedom exacts a price from them, it’s one they are willing to pay…particularly when the rewards are so pleasurable. In Elizabeth Coldwell’s “A Demonstration of Affection,” a young woman apprentice knows that her choice to pursue her education voids any chance of a proper marriage, but who needs a proper marriage when one can have the professor? In Christine d’Abo’s poignant “The Undeciphered Heart,” the melding of invention and body means being cast completely from society and life, but also heralds the reunion of lovers parted by war.
In these erotic tales, release becomes more than just a physical event. It propels characters beyond the constraints of social class and gender. As the stories open, some of the heroines have already found that release and broken free of their bonds, as did the fascinating Maddy from Sacchi Green’s “Fog, Flight and Moonlight,” whose sexual history would have a proper miss reaching for her smelling salts, but a steampunk heroine takes in stride.
Nothing is handed to these steampunk heroines; they, too, must do it themselves. Most of the women utilize their hands or intellect, and the celebration of steampunk’s do-it-yourself spirit lies within the stories, as well. These women aren’t afraid to get their fingernails dirty, though their work leads to rather unusual occupations, such as in Andrea Dale’s “Lost Souls,” where a heroine invents devices that serve as otherworldy distractions in a greater game, or the time-traveling thieves in Vida Bailey’s “Undergrounded.” They don’t have to work alone, however; the partnerships in these stories are critical to success, and allow them to find ecstasy—both physical and intellectual—along the way.
Steampunk allows for a revised and reimagined history, but not everything from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries is tossed away. It was an era of exploration and conflict, and that spirit lives on in steampunk, even when it leads our heroines into dangerous and unexpected territories, as when Lisabet Sarai’s Caroline Fortescue-Smythe seeks to persuade a young Siamese man to her side of a raging war in her unique way in “Green Cheese.” It was also an age of invention and discovery, and the celebration of ingenuity. That is aptly demonstrated in Sylvia Day’s “Iron Hard,” in which the finely wrought craftsmanship of a man’s prosthetic arm arouses the heroine’s intellect before a touch from that mechanized hand does the same to her flesh.
Gadgets and inventions often play a large role in steampunk tales, providing conflict with or a reflection of the society—providing freedom or oppression, depending upon who uses them—but they cannot fulfill every need. In a subtle turn on Victorian doctors and their treatment of women’s hysteria, the heroine of Nikki Magennis’s “Make Your Own Miracles,” orders a machine to be built that will ease the need within her, but finds that a connection with a living being, albeit partly clockwork, was all that she required.
In other tales, it is through a machine that the connection is made. Saskia Walker’s clever inventor and formidable engineer come together inside “The Heart of the Daedalus,” and in Lynn Townsend’s “Golden Moment,” an invention which measures the auspiciousness of a particular moment leads the heroine to the right lover at exactly the right time. In the grips of “Mr. Hartley’s Infernal Device,” Charlotte Stein’s wonderful heroine’s eyes are opened to beauty and wonder, and the revelation that “I have real freedom here, for the first time in my life…” That is a sentiment that might also be echoed by the automaton heroine in Mary Borsellino’s beautifully written “Liberated,” who works to fix a broken world and seeks connection and life in the arms of a lover.
Turn the page with me, and step into the new worlds these authors have built—worlds where airships rule the skies, where
romance and intellect are valued over money and social status, where lovers boldly discover each other’s bodies, minds, and hearts.
This is steampunk…written extra hot, for double the steam.
INTRODUCTION:
A PASSION FOR STEAMPUNK
The term steampunk first came on my radar several years ago when I was hunting around on Etsy.com for a necklace as a gift for a friend. I kept running into the word in relation to these beautifully unique pieces of wearable art that combined copper, brass, glass, tiny cogs and other delights. I wasn’t sure what steampunk was, but I knew I at least liked how it translated into jewelry. Soon, I was seeing references to steampunk fiction and I was intrigued. What was this new genre all about? Who was writing it?
Turns out, steampunk is a relatively new word for a rather old genre. If you’ve read Jules Verne or H. G. Wells, you already know what steampunk is. While the term came onto the literary scene a couple of decades or so ago (depending on your source), referring primarily to a niche of science fiction, the idea of making steampunk steamy is a very new idea. It makes sense, though. What is sexier than combining history and fantasy with exciting voyages and exploration? Victorian costumes and futuristic gadgets, airships and automatons—steampunk is a genre that was meant to be romanticized and eroticized. And so, with Steamlust: Steampunk Erotic Romance, that’s just what we have done!
The stories in Steamlust are about characters willing to take tremendous risks or make great sacrifices in the name of freedom, invention and love, but steampunk is also about rebellion—and this collection offers up some of the best bad boys (and girls) to be found. Between these covers you will find stories of high adventure and dangerous intrigue, not to mention imaginative gadgets and clever automatons. But at the heart of every story is the immeasurable passion of the free-spirited rebels and dreamers steampunk is known for, passion that transcends all boundaries and limitations because there is no greater motivator of the human spirit than erotic love. As Sylvia Day’s dashing hero in “Iron Hard” says, “Once we find the other half of ourselves, we are never again whole without them.”
Steamlust: Steampunk Erotic Romance is an amalgam of authorial inspiration resulting in a collection of stories that blend the historical, the scientific, the fantastical, the romantic and the erotic. These tantalizing crystalline and clockwork visions capture a time and place that never existed except in the authors’ imaginations. And—now—your imagination. This is steampunk that goes beyond the magic and science of Verne and Wells and explores the hearts and desires of the intrepid characters behind the machines—and leaves the bedroom door open for your voyeuristic pleasure.
To further spur your steampunk imaginings, I invite you to visit steam * lust * animation (steamlustanimation.blogspot. com). This lovely blog is an Internet version of a leather-bound journal—chockfull of clever creations and a dash of enchantment. It is the brainchild of talented artist and writer Nikki Magennis and offers an account of her adventures in creating an animated book trailer for this anthology (extra special thanks and a bouquet of crystalline roses to Nikki for her creative genius) as well as providing a comprehensive compendium of all things steampunk. Nikki’s film is a spectacular visual rendering of the book you hold in your hands and her account of the process is as entertaining and amusing as it is educational. The steampunk band Escape the Clouds deserves grateful acknowledgment, as well, for giving us permission to use their song “Marrakesh” as the soundtrack for the book trailer. I listened to their music as I compiled the final version of the book and I think their sound embodies the adventure, romance and passion I was looking for in this collection.
I would like to offer a very hearty thank-you to my fabulous team at Cleis Press for believing in my steampunk dreams and to Scott Idleman of Blink for proving that you can, in fact, judge a book by its gorgeous cover.
I hope you enjoy Steamlust: Steampunk Erotic Romance, dear reader. May these stories inspire your clockwork dreams and fuel your steamy fantasies!
Kristina Wright
Chesapeake, Virginia
IRON HARD
Sylvia Day
London, 1820
You are attached to them.”
Annabelle Waters took one last, lingering look at the mechanized lovebirds in their velvet-lined delivery box, then closed the lid. “I’m attached to all my creations.”
“Let me rephrase,” her brother said. “You are especially attached to these.”
She met her twin’s blue-eyed stare. “Have you any notion of how difficult it was to calibrate the resonance frequencies so that if one should fail the other will also?”
“They are your best work yet,” Thomas agreed. “But that isn’t why you favor them so, and we both know it.”
Annie looked at the empty birdcage in the corner of her workroom, then shifted her attention to the clock on the mantle. With a sigh, she pulled the safety goggles off the top of her head and ruffled her short cap of dark curls. “I have to make myself presentable.”
“Allow me to deliver this one.”
“The baron asked that I personally demonstrate how they work. Considering the obscene sum we charged him, it is the least I can do.”
“Annie—”
“I promise to speak of you,” she rushed on, knowing what he desired, “if the opportunity presents itself. But the subject must be delicately approached. His lordship’s future patronage and endorsement could change our fortunes in profound ways.”
“I know. But you’ve no notion of what it is like at his shipyard,” he complained. “I have waited in that line for nearly a year and am no closer to gaining employment than I was when I began. Every man in England wishes to apprentice under his banner.”
She knew that; it was impossible not to know. Baron de la Warren had returned from the war a hero, a sky captain lauded for his brilliant strategies and swashbuckling boldness. He was credited with the destruction of Boney’s dirigible fleet and romanticized for his patched eye, which gave him the appearance of a pirate. Peacetime had done nothing to lessen his appeal. He was, in fact, more popular now. His import empire offered well-paying work and apprenticeship to many destitute yet able-bodied young men, like her brother. Annie had been startled when his lordship had commissioned the lovebirds, wondering at the private man who lived beneath the public personage. What manner of warrior thought of such a lover’s gift? She was more than a little eager to see for herself.
The long case clock in the hall began to chime with the hour. Annie proceeded with her egress. “I will find an excuse to mention you. Perhaps I can convince his lordship to visit under the guise of viewing some of my other creations. He could find nothing untoward about meeting you here, and once he does, he’ll certainly engage you. How could he not? You’re just the sort of intelligent, ambitious young fellow he cultivates in his employ.”
“It’s not working,” he grumbled after her. “Your flattery.”
“Yes, it is.” She slowed at the sound of creaking floorboards and heavy footsteps.
The soothing whirring of gears preceded the appearance of their butler as he rounded the balustrade in the visitors’ foyer. He slowed his steady forward momentum when he saw her, his striated glass lenses turning to adjust his polarized vision.
“Please have the coach brought around, Alfred.”
He acknowledged her request with an eminently regal dip of his head.
“Thank you,” she said, unable to refrain from smiling.
The servant was one of her most prized creations, albeit one lacking the painful sentimentality of the lovebirds. As much as she longed to keep them, she also could not wait to be parted from them. They awakened memories she’d learned to suppress through an intense focus on her work.
It had been five years since Waterloo. Five years.
He wasn’t coming back.
Annie secured her hat to her head with an ivory pin and collected the boxed birds with gloved hands. Alfred pulled the front door open, allowing the
low-lying fog to roll in over the cracked marble floors with the sinuousness of a lover. She left the house, skipping over the shattered second step to reach the street, which was deserted aside from her steam coach.
What had once been a fashionable neighborhood for the wealthy was now home to a pile of rubble. When Prinny had urged the willing and able to stake claims on salvageable abandoned properties, she and Thomas had chosen a row house that stood as a lone sentinel on a ravaged street. It was quiet here. She was spared the distraction of belching delivery wagons and the repetitious tick tick tick of insectile vendor cart legs picking their way over pockmarked cobblestones.
Lifting her skirts, Annie climbed onto the box seat and settled herself. She pulled her driving goggles over her eyes, then gripped the wheel as she let the break, holding on tightly as the coach lurched forward.
In short order, she left the city behind. Baron de la Warren lived on the outskirts, away from the smoke and fog that shrouded London. When she arrived at the massive iron gates that kept the fawning world at bay, she rang the bell. The locking mechanism had been built as a work of art, with copper meshing gears and tin ornamentation. She watched admiringly as the chains slid smoothly over well-oiled sprockets, causing the gates to swing inward and grant her entrance.
Within the high brick perimeter walls, the baron’s property was massive. A dirigible landing pad was situated on the left side of the brick manse and a large carriage house was visible in the distance on the right. Sleek hounds followed her progress up the lane, their iron plates flexing with the ease of snakeskin.
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