“Don’t you and Edmund share the stone cottage where we had lunch on my last visit?”
“Yes, when he’s here.” He and Belinda lived there until she moved to Bath to manage Annabelle’s shop. Now the cottage belonged to him and he was usually the sole occupant.
“I remember it being quite large and there’s a housekeeper, correct?” She wasn’t giving him much room to maneuver out of this. “And I could bring my maid.”
“Ella, you’re very helpful to me, but I can’t have you here.” Danger to her through the business wasn’t his only reason. He couldn’t be exposed to her constantly and hope to come out with his heart intact. He could admit that to himself now.
“Edmund will be down for the final week or so according to a letter I received from Annabelle. It’s perfectly acceptable if I live in a house with my brother-in-law as chaperone.”
“Acceptable to your mother and brother? I think not.” Richard’s position toward him had been painfully clear.
“Do you need my assistance?” She cut to the heart of the matter.
“Yes,” he admitted because he couldn’t get away with lying to her. She’d brought order to his paperwork and given him more time to spend at the steam works actively overseeing all aspects of the construction.
“Think about my coming here. It would only be until the launch.” She argued logically. “Then, we have an agreement to re-evaluate our relationship. Remember?”
No amount of work removed that agreement from his memory. “I do.”
“Good. Right now, I have some papers that need your signature and questions about other items. Shall we go to your office?”
“You don’t want to see the ship?” He thought that was the point of her visit.
“I’ll go with you at three. Something about the engine Sam said.”
“Firing it up today. It’ll be loud and dirty,” he warned her.
“I wore dark colors and loud has never bothered me.”
****
“The trunk engine was made by John Penn and Sons,” Jim explained as he helped her onto the ship after a few hours spent reviewing paperwork. All business so far on this visit. She hadn’t been sure what to expect after the kiss he’d given her at their last meeting.
“You didn’t design it?” She liked the feel of the cool breeze coming off the water as it touched her skin. True November weather hadn’t started yet. The days were short, but still held the warmth of earlier autumn.
“No. It’s my job to figure out how to use it to my advantage.”
“I’m guessing you have. Why is it called a trunk engine?”
“It’s low and long like a trunk.” He gestured with his long arms, making her smile.
“That’s an advantage?”
“In a ship, yes,” he answered and read the unspoken question on her face. “We can place the engine across the keel below the waterline.”
“Because?” she coaxed him to expand on his answer as she neared the center of the ship. Two short smoke stacks jutted through the structure in between the foresail and the mainsail. A square cut out in the decking showed stairs leading down into the dark belly of the ship.
“It keeps it and the boilers out of range of enemy fire in the most protected part of the ship. The position in the ship also helps balance the overall weight,” he explained. “Always important if we want to prevent accidents at sea.”
“You said boilers.” The hiss of steam sliced through the air. “How many?”
“In the prototype, three boilers. The real ship will have ten.”
“More noise?”
“Plenty,” he grinned, “but more power. Are you ready to go down?”
Ready or not, she descended through two levels of the ship before reaching a room pulsating with noise. The boilers hissed, steam lines popped, and a huge engine in the center chugged to life with back and forth motions. A rod came out one end but dragged along the ship’s bottom.
“Not hooked to the screw yet,” Jim yelled to her, “wait here.” He took a quick survey of her immediate area and seemed satisfied with its safety before joining the group of men gathered around the engine. She assumed the man with the giant mustache was McGregor when Jim spoke to him first, leaning close and making a variety of hand gestures to compensate for the noise.
The two appeared to come to an agreement about something. Jim tapped two of the workmen on the shoulders, waving for them to join him. Together the trio lifted the rod while other workers hooked it to a vertical shaft and fastened them together. She couldn’t explain the mechanics of the process, but with the parts connected and the engine running again, she felt movement under her feet.
Jim stood, hands on hips, watching through the opening where the vertical shaft disappeared. McGregor checked the engine, adjusting some dials and returned to Jim’s position where they waited. The tension in the room built along with the cacophony until Jim clamped one hand on McGregor’s arm and nodded with satisfaction.
Smiles were rarities on Jim’s face and this one was pure pleasure. After shaking hands with the other workers, he looked to her, the smile still in place. If she didn’t already love him, she would have fallen at that moment when he included her in his triumph. Their eyes met and held despite the heat, noise, and confusion. A connection as strong as the bolted together parts established itself between them.
A worker asked Jim a question redirecting his gaze, but the bond was there. When he made his way to her, she couldn’t contain the silly, feminine smile on her face.
“Congratulations,” she yelled. “I’m not sure what happened, but it seemed right.” She could have been speaking of the mechanics of the situation, but she wasn’t. Everything between them seemed right. For the first time, Jim seemed comfortable with her loving him and she dared to hope that he’d act on how she knew he felt about her.
“The engine turned the propeller under us. You could feel the wash of the screw turning.” Since she’d seen sketches of the ship, she understood what he meant, but the ground moving under her feet was from an entirely different cause. “Come see the rest of what we’re building.” The we probably didn’t include her, but the way he said it, with the calm, confident expression on his face, pulled her in.
Taking her hand, he led her up one flight and through a maze of rooms where men worked. Finally, they reached an empty cabin. Dark wood, masculine and strong, covered the walls and floor, and a bank of windows faced off the stern of the ship. He shut the cabin’s door blocking out the sounds of hammers and men’s voices. His hand still gripped hers and he gave no sign of relinquishing it.
“The captain’s quarters,” he said, his voice gravelly.
“Very official looking,” she responded, wondering where this was going. Jim was not the reserved, controlled Jim. He had the look of a slightly wild horse just released from its harness.
“I’m feeling unofficial.” His eyes darkened to the color of sky at twilight as he drew her closer, crushing her gown, but feeding her passion. “You have to give me a congratulatory kiss.” With one finger, he lifted her chin a fraction until their lips almost met and he waited.
She considered being difficult by giving him a peck on the cheek.
So she waited.
When his finger wandered down the line of her throat to caress along her collarbone, she concluded being difficult was overrated. Her lips parted before making contact with his, launching the kiss from tender to tempestuous before she got her arms around his neck.
She sank into the exquisite heat building between them. Happy to be lost in it, lost in Jim until a steam whistle’s shrill blast broke the kiss.
“Shift change,” he whispered, still holding her against him. With her head nestled between his neck and shoulder, she could feel the steady gallop of his heart, matching her own. He pushed her back a half step, taking a moment to study her face. “I need to be out in the yard, but I want—”
A blast shook the cabin, reverberating off the walls and rattling
the glass.
“What the hell?” He hugged her close, tense and waiting. His hands wrapped around her to protect her from God knew what. Men’s voices mingling with the crack and pop of fire reached them.
“Was that an explosion?” She fought against his protective hold to tilt her head to his. Deep wrinkles formed twin lines between his brows and he held his breath listening for a second longer.
“I have to go,” he said, setting her away from him. “I want you to stay here until I come back for you. Understand?”
“But I can—” she tried to argue.
“Wait here,” he ordered and was gone.
She dashed to the windows to watch for him. Within seconds, he was on the gangplank and then running up the slope to the manufacturing area. Clouds of black smoke thickened the air, billowing up and out with the breeze. Three fiery spots the size of carriages burned red, orange, angry. Men, blackened with smoke, moved amongst the fires, stomping and beating them out. Others dragged injured men toward the shelter of the main workshop.
In the center of it, Jim’s strong figure circled, crisscrossed, now stopping to fight fire only to abandon that to carry someone toward safety. Never content to watch, Ella left the cabin and made her way to Jim. Hampered by her long skirts, she hiked them past her ankles to climb the slope. Out of breath from the climb, she gulped in the heavy air. The first breath of acrid, smoke made her cough, but she pushed on, getting closer to the fires.
“Get back, miss,” a worker yelled at her when a fire, spiked by a blast of wind shot skyward. As she backed away, an arm closed around her waist, lifted her from her feet, and carried her to a clearing free of debris and smoke. Hands beat at her smoldering gown.
“I told you to stay.” Jim straightened, his sooty, scolding face filling her frame of vision.
“I want to help,” she had to yell over the fire and voices.
“Then stay clear where I don’t have to worry about you.” He jerked her around, smacking at tiny embers clinging to her skirt. “I don’t need you bursting into flames on top of that.” Another updraft of air fed one of the fires, forcing the battling men to retreat. “Get in the main building if you want to help with the injured. Your aunt’s already there.”
“Anyone…” She couldn’t finish the question. The thought too terrible that one of the men she’d seen working today was gone.
“No, but several burned. If you can…”
“I can.” She would, she decided. She could help with the burn victims if that’s what he needed of her.
He caught her hand for a quick squeeze before racing back toward the fire.
Chapter Fifteen
Ella paced the drawing room of Jim’s cottage, jumping every time a leaf rustled or twig cracked. She and the housekeeper, Mrs. Meeks, convinced Aunt Louise to go to bed an hour ago, but Ella couldn’t sleep. Not until she knew Jim was safe. She’d spent her time poking around the cottage, deciding the word didn’t suit the house. It was far bigger than her image of a cottage with four large rooms on the main level plus a generous foyer and six bedrooms above and more rooms in the attic. The spaces were well appointed and comfortable in deep tones with a minimum of fussiness.
Inky blackness faced her from the window as she peered out into a night turned cold and rainy. She stretched her back and shoulders, stiff from leaning over the injured men. Most had minor burns or cuts from flying debris, but a few unfortunate souls, too close to the blast’s center, were badly hurt. She’d waited with them for the town’s doctors to arrive, holding hands and bathing wounds. By nightfall, the worst of the patients were moved to nearby homes, and she had only to patch a few superficial abrasions and wait for Jim.
But he didn’t come.
She caught sight of his figure stalking through the yard, checking and re-checking, interviewing witnesses, cleaning up the damage, but he didn’t come near her. He hadn’t needed to, she reasoned, still pacing the room. He knew she was safe, but she wasn’t leaving Bristol until she spoke with him so when their carriage arrived to return them to Bath, she redirected it to Jim’s cottage. If she had her way, she wasn’t leaving Bristol at all. Convincing Aunt Louise to spend the night hadn’t been a challenge. The usually energetic woman was exhausted from the stress and work of the afternoon.
The tiniest sound near the cottage’s door made her stop. The door shut with a faint thump and Jim’s sigh reached her even across the foyer and into the room. She hurried toward him as he leaned against the door, headed tilted back, eyes closed in exhaustion.
“Jim, I was worried,” she began, but stopped when his eyes flashed open in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his unguarded expression registering a tad of annoyance mixed with joy. “I saw your carriage leave hours ago.”
“Aunt Louise was too tired to make the trip to Bath and,” she gathered her courage, “I wasn’t leaving until I knew you were unhurt. As a matter of fact, I intend to stay here until the project is complete.” She finally said what she’d wanted to say all day even before the explosion.
Any joy fled from his face, leaving a weary determination. “You should have gone home. I don’t need you here complicating things.”
“You do need me.” She marched toward him, stopping only inches away.
He pushed off the door to loom over her. “You will not stay. I expect you and your aunt to be gone in the morning.”
“Don’t try to intimidate me.” Elongating her frame to its maximum height, she faced him. This close, every line, every worry showed on his face. She wanted to stroke those away with her fingertips, but not until he let her. Not until he admitted he needed her. A tense silence made the air crystallize around them, encasing them in this opposing posture.
“Do as you like,” he finally said. “You will. Regardless of what I say.” He brushed past her, headed for the stairs, but she grabbed his sleeve. She hoped to stop him, to find their way back to the kiss in the captain’s quarter before the explosion.
Her fingers, tightening on his arm, dropped into burn holes until they reached flesh, raw and caked with dried blood. A wave of sickness passed through her, transforming to sympathy and love as she saw his grimace of pain. “You’re hurt.”
“Nothing,” he insisted, shaking her off and putting distance between them.
“Burns have to be tended to. I suppose you haven’t even stopped to wash them out.” Of course, he hadn’t. “Come into the kitchen, Mrs. Meeks left some hot water for tea, but it’ll work just as well to clean wounds.” She passed him and the stairs to follow the narrow corridor to the kitchen.
She slowly counted to fifty as she busied herself finding a basin and towels. The man was logical and a logical man knew to wash out burns. His better sense would prevail if she were patient. Fifty beats passed. When she reached sixty, he entered the kitchen. She kept her back to him until she could smother her little triumphant smile.
“Take off your coat. Carefully.” She poured steaming water into a bowl, wrapped a towel around it, and carried it to the long table made of oak planks.
He slipped his left arm out easily, but fabric stuck in the wounds of his right forearm. “Can’t get it,” he admitted, slumping into a chair. “You might have to cut it off.”
She examined the sleeve and the arm beneath. “I don’t think even Annabelle’s sewing skills could save this garment now.” Her little joke earned a slight smile, followed by a grimace when she cut through the layers, gently tugging cloth from the wounds. “You wouldn’t have gotten this off without help. What was your plan?”
“I’d have worked something out.”
“Always independent. I should call you never need a friend Ferguson.” She peeled back a piece of shirt cloth, dried with blood and stuck deep in a burn. With a damp cloth, she slowly worked the material loose, soaking and pulling until the cloth was out. “Nasty one,” she commented, stealing a peek at Jim’s face. He’d said nothing for several minutes. She thought he might be closing his eyes
against the pain and giving in to the exhaustion, but he stared at her wide-eyed. His jaw line set and tight with pain or something else.
“Do you know what caused the explosion? Was it a bomb?” She patted his arm dry, checking carefully around the edges of the wound to make sure no dirt lay trapped there.
“We found pieces of what the police detective is calling an incendiary device.”
“So it was definitely intentional?” The confirmation of sabotage chilled her. “You were right to be worried.”
“So it seems. Thank you for helping. That goes for your aunt as well.”
“What will you do?”
“The night shift came in and continued to work.” His tone matched the determined expression on his face. “I sent a cable to Edmund to ask him to come, but the schedule is the schedule.”
“But how will you guarantee safety for you or your employees?” she asked, anxiety making her clumsy as she bumped his burns while wrapping them with gauze.
He sucked in a breath. “I can’t, which is why I want you far from this place, from the whole project. Go back to Bath, better yet go to your family in the country where I know you’re taken care of.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”
“It’s not what you want, Ella. It’s what has to happen.” He covered her hand with his, squeezing until he claimed her full attention. “We have to go our separate ways. It might as well be now.”
“No,” she said, not letting him use the danger as an excuse to drive her away, “to both.”
“Both?”
“No, I won’t leave and, no, we don’t have to go our separate ways. I belong here with you. I’ve never felt anything so strongly in my life.”
“You’re young,” he dismissed her words, rising when she’d finished with the bandaging. “I’ll be up and gone early in the morning so I won’t see you. Have a safe journey.” He strode from the room as quickly as a man who’d worked eighteen hours straight, battled blazes, and carried a weight heavier than Atlas’s on his shoulders could.
He’d said Edmund was aware of the problem. If she knew her brother-in-law at all, Edmund was already on his way here. She smiled despite an overwhelming sense of tiredness. His presence would smooth the way for her stay and remind Jim that he needed her assistance with the secretarial work. She’d be here tomorrow morning and a week from tomorrow morning. Whether Jim wanted her or not. She was banking on the former.
Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set Page 205
