A Dance Like Flame (Of Magic & Machine Book 1)

by Tammy Blackwell

  “I’m the proud owner of a set of rooms at 10 Stonewall Drive,” Nellie announced with a beatific smile. “Or at least, I will be as soon as I return to London and transfer the funds.”

  “Ten Stonewall Drive?” Demir’s eyebrows were drawn tightly together, making the scar that ran through one stand out in stark white against his tanned skin. “You must be mistaken. That is my building.”

  “Funny, the Duke of Sidhe acted as if it were his building when we negotiated the terms of my lease.”

  “Of course it’s the Duke’s building.”

  “Then I don’t see why on earth you would attempt to lay claim.”

  Demir’s eyes narrowed to tiny little slits. “Because I live there.”

  Nellie sucked in a breath, the only sign she found the news that she would be living in a building with a man — with this very large, very man-like man — distressing in the least. “Excellent news,” she said, her voice a half octave higher than normal. “In that case, you should be able to deliver my trunk there for me. It is, after all, on your way home.”

  Demir said something else, but Bits didn’t catch what it was. Her attention was entirely captured by the man who came out the door and was heading down the front steps. Even though she’d just seen him moments before, and had become very familiar with every nuance of his appearance over the past few months, she couldn’t help but stare in awe at how breathtakingly handsome he was.

  “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to handle watching you leave me,” Ezra said, stopping beside Bits. If the past two days had been a dream, she never wished to wake up. As Sidhe, Driscoll, and Henrick spent the days locked in Sidhe’s study discussing the business of noblemen, Bits had spent her time assisting Ezra as he saw to his patients and stealing kisses when no one was else was about. He returned to her bed every night, where they made love until they fell asleep wrapped in one another’s arms.

  “It’s only for a few days. I need to gather up some of my belongings, and I do owe my sister a visit.” They were going with a story of lost memories and a kind farming couple with a spare room. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

  “Impossible,” he said, bringing her gloved hands up to his lips. “You’re not even gone and I miss you already.”

  He was impossible, but she loved it. They’d found Henrick at the breakfast table the morning after the ball, and without preamble, Ezra told him of their plans to marry. Bits had to give her brother credit. Once he ceased choking on his eggs and was able to talk, he handled the entire exchange very well. By her count, he only threatened Ezra’s life three times in the entire process.

  She still couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Love and marriage were things intended for other girls, but never her. She was too large and plain, too lacking in grace and appeal. Yet she believed Ezra when he said he loved her. She believed him when he said he would be the happiest man alive if she agreed to be his wife. She could see the truth of it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, and feel it in his arms. In the entirety of their acquaintance, she’d never known Ezra to lie, and she highly doubted he would do it now, simply to win her hand in marriage.

  “I wish you could come with me,” she said, hating to leave him, even if it was for only a few days.

  Ezra trailed the back of his fingers along her jaw. “I cannot leave Corrigan without a mage.”

  Of course he could not. His loyalty was part of what made him the man she loved. How could he have ever thought himself unworthy of her when he was the most noble and honorable man she’d ever known? If anything, she didn’t deserve him. Not that she was going to let that stop her from taking him. Oh no. He was quite stuck with her now.

  “I shall be back on Thursday,” she said, vowing she would make it so even if she had to steal a coach-and-four. “Do you think Alice will wait to have her wedding until then?”

  “With the way Driscoll rode out of here at first light? I doubt it. My bet is on there being a new Marchioness of Driscoll by sundown tomorrow.”

  Bits had tried to appeal to her friend several times over the past few days, begging her to not wed Driscoll out of some unwanted debt, but Alice wouldn’t hear it. She was quite determined to go through with the ceremony, no matter what Bits said.

  “I owe her a great deal.”

  “We both do,” Ezra agreed. “Driscoll wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded. I would have never let him have you, not if you truly didn’t want him, but the punishment for bespelling a marquess is beheading. I do rather like my head where it is.”

  He was being flippant, yet Bits’s heart filled with true fear. The danger had passed, but she had come dangerously close to losing him forever the night of the ball. The long, pale column of his throat was still marred by the bruises Garroway’s clockwork hand left behind.

  “It is a rather lovely head,” she said, resisting the urge to cover the proof of violence with kisses. “We shall have to name our first child Alice as a thank you for it staying put.”

  “Alice Nash.” Ezra said the name slowly, as considering it. “Seems a rather odd name for a son, don’t you think?”

  “A son, is it?”

  Ezra’s gaze went to her middle. “Well, it’s really too soon to tell, but I’m getting a strong son vibe.” His lips curled into an impish smile. “Don’t worry, though, love. I’m sure at least a few of the dozen we have will be girls. How about we save the name Alice for one of them?”

  Bits didn’t really hear the second part, her brain still trying the come to terms with the first. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach. “You can’t know that,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Well, no,” Ezra agreed. “I suppose we could have ten, or maybe even fifteen, but I’m thinking a dozen would be a nice, even number. Don’t you? We’ll have to find a new home, of course, but your dowry is more than generous. I do believe we can afford it.”

  “Ezra—”

  He pulled her to him and took her mouth in a searing kiss, oblivious to their audience. “I’m a mage, Bits.” His voice was low and all sorts of delicious in her ear. “A mage who, if you will recall, placed a health aura on you just two days ago. I can know a great many things, including the fact that we should have our wedding as soon as possible since a great many of our acquaintances know how to count.” His hands rested on her hips, and with his thumbs he began to trace circles along the edges of her stomach.

  Bits’s head was spinning so much she was grateful that Ezra was there to hold her up. “Are you certain?” was all she could think to ask.

  “Certain enough to begin making a list of names that are not Alice.”

  Bits’s heart did a series of twists and turns in her chest, perhaps performing a waltz with her lungs, who had became so distracted they forgot how to function properly. “A baby.”

  “Our baby.”

  Her eyes met his, and she couldn’t stop the tears from forming even if she wanted to.

  “Will it matter to you,” he asked, “that he will be born without a title?”

  The question was so absurd, she laughed. “A title? I do not care if he’s born a monkey and insists on crying around the clock for the first two years. As long as he is ours, I will be the happiest mother alive.” And then she was crying in earnest because it was all too much. A place to call home where she would be accepted for who she was, Velchan abilities and all. A sexy, smart, and kind husband she loved with all of her heart.

  A baby.

  Her hand once again went to her stomach. He couldn’t be right. There simply could not be a child growing there. This was not how life worked, at least not hers.

  All the joy she’d felt just moments before turned to fear. This life wasn’t meant for her. She was going to lose it all. There would be no baby. Ezra would realize how much better he could do for a wife, and leave her standing all alone on their wedding day. The people of Corrigan would shun her because her magic was not their magic. It was all going to fall apart, and it would all
be her fault for reaching too far, trying to take too much.

  She hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes until they opened as Ezra tilted her chin up with gentle fingers. “Hello there, love,” he said, concern in his eyes. “Where did you go?”

  “Faery tales don’t really come true,” she told him, knowing it sounded like the ramblings of a mad woman, yet he understood.

  “This one does,” he assured her, his voice so certain she couldn’t help believe him. She pulled his mouth down to hers, tasting the promise of happily ever after on his tongue, and silently promised she would do whatever it took to ensure their future was one filled with love.

  Chapter 43

  The door to Number 7, Fetter Lane was unassuming at best. Half of London walked past it every day without giving it a second thought. If pressed to say what was written on the plaque above the knocker, most would admit to not even being aware a plaque existed. Still, Hugh Garroway took out his handkerchief and gave it a good polish all the same.

  Some things one did, not because anyone would take notice, but because it was the right thing to do.

  Just as he was putting away his handkerchief, the door swung open. “Mr. Garroway. Begging your pardon,” Pascoe said, bowing low. “We were not aware you would be gracing us with your presence today.” He rose in a graceful motion that belied his years and plucked Garroway’s coat from his shoulders. “I do hope you’ve planned an extended stay. The orphans have missed you horribly.”

  There wasn’t a person under the age of twelve residing in Danu’s Charitable Home for Orphans, as the plaque outside proclaimed the building to be, but the occupants had gotten into the habit of calling themselves orphans all the same. In a way, they were orphans. Orphaned by the world who tried to force them into a role of servitude when they should rule. Orphaned by the Oberon who was supposed to lead them into war.

  “I’m certain you will all grow tired of me quickly,” Garroway said, already climbing the stairs that led to the second floor sitting room. “I’m afraid I will be staying indefinitely this time.” He had just a moment to register Pascoe’s shocked expression before turning down the hallway and out of sight.

  He didn’t bother knocking before flinging open the door to the sitting room. If Louise was surprised by his presence in London or his abrupt entrance, she didn’t show it. Louise never let anyone see anything more than she wished for them to see.

  “Are you aware,” she asked, flipping a page in her book, “that the seam has come undone on your jacket?”

  He looked down, and sure enough, the right shoulder of his jacket was coming completely unraveled. When had that happened? He wasn’t even certain when he’d put the jacket on. Was it the one he’d worn to the ball two nights ago? Or had he changed at the posting inn? He couldn’t remember. His mind never could hold details like when he’d last changed clothes or eaten. Usually his valet kept him fed, bathed, and dressed, but Matthews had been unwilling to leave Corrigan on such short notice, and so Garroway had dismissed him. He would have to look for someone new now that he was in London. Maybe he could offer the position to one of the orphans.

  Of course, first he would have to get Mother’s permission. He might have been the head of the movement, but in Danu House, Louise ruled supreme.

  “You look well,” he said, lifting one of her long, elegant hands and bowing over it to place a kiss on the knuckles. “I must say, red is certainly your color. You look divine.” The completely inappropriate gown was made of the deepest shade of crimson and hugged the few curves gracing her slender body. Louise would never be considered a great beauty, but she exuded a raw primitiveness that had men salivating at her heels.

  Louise set her book on a nearby table and gave him her full attention for the first time since he entered. “Is there a purpose in you being here, Hugh, or have you simply come to compliment me?”

  “Are my compliments unwanted?”

  Louise traced a finger along the edge of her gown. “You know I always welcome your attentions,” she practically purred. “But I also know you would not make an unexpected trip merely for pleasure’s sake. Tell me what has happened.”

  Over the next few moments he laid out the events of the past few weeks. Nash’s successful transplant. The discovery of the Velchan and Sidhe’s alignment with her. His botched assassination and subsequent banishment. By the time he was finished, Louise’s eyebrows were high on her forehead. “What does that mean for us?” she asked

  Garroway looked out the window. From this room he had a clear view of the busy city street below. Horses and carriages clogged the road while people wandered up and down the sidewalks. So many people, all of them thinking they were the most important person on earth. Garroway knew better. Individuals weren’t important. Life was about the greater good. Alone, he was nothing, but with the orphans and his other allies across Britain and the globe, he was part of a movement that would ensure the greater good, no matter the cost to any individual.

  “It means we are no longer aligned with the Oberon,” he said, meeting Louise’s eyes. “It means it is time to wage our war.”

  Thank you for reading A Dance Like Flame! If you want to find out what happens to Alice, the new Marchioness of Driscoll, don’t miss the second book in the Of Magic & Machine series:

  A Desire Like Song

  Coming September 5, 2017

  Want to see more books like A Dance Like Flame? Leave a review!

  Without reviews, books sit all sad and lonely in cyberspace, never finding their audience. And without an audience, series shrivel up and die. Please don’t let the Of Magic & Machine books die.

  Tammy Blackwell is a reader, librarian, and author. She dreams of one day being clever enough to write an interesting bio.

  Tammy Blackwell’s YA Books:

  The Timber Wolves Trilogy:

  Destiny Binds

  Time Mends

  Fate Succumbs

  Timber Wolves Companions:

  At First Sight

  All We See & Seem

  Shifters & Seers Novels:

  Fragile Brilliance

  Infinite Harmony

  Whispered Visions

  Changing audience and genres has been a terrifying journey, to say the least. Thanks so much to my earliest readers who gave me the strength and insight to keep going when I seriously considered stuffing this book in a box and hiding it under my bed for the rest of ever. Nancy Petty, Samantha Newman, Tori Story, and Angela Taylor, you guys have have my eternal gratitude. And a extra special thanks goes to my mom and Samantha Young, who have been cheerleaders for this project all the way through. You two are the bestest.

  Finding my way through Victorian society has been an undertaking, and one I would not have succeeded in without the assistance of my fantastic editors, Gwen Hayes and Lynda Short. If it’s right, it’s because of them. If it’s wrong, it’s because I didn’t listen when I should have.

  My biggest thanks goes to everyone who took a chance on this new series. I have the best readers in the world!