Bill sat back in his comfortable chair and looked at her calmly for a minute before answering. “My searches didn’t show any of that. However, I’m not surprised. Most kids who grow up in a family business learn young. What did your father think of it?”
“Mostly he ignored it. When he did pay attention, it was to say there was no point in teaching it to me.”
Bill stood up and put his hands on her shoulders, effectively stopping her pacing and forcing her to look at him. “I don’t understand the dynamics in your family or your father. But I promise you, I only do what I want to do. No one, not even you, will manipulate me into doing something I don’t want to do. I’m going on this trip because it’s a good opportunity to see how the business is faring. Numbers and reports only tell you so much. If something happens between us, it will be because we want it and not because of your father. Maybe, when you trust me more, you can tell me why your father is so determined to see you wed,” he said in a tone of voice which intoned he wouldn’t be denied. Then, in a lighter tone he added, “Fifty-three? Really?”
Stunned and relieved, she couldn’t find her voice at first. “Yes,” she said, smiling, which turned to laughter. “When my friends were complaining about their fathers trying to scare off their boyfriends, mine set me up with men of his choosing.” His touch warmed her, and she tried not to think about it. Nice or not, she’d not be caught up in her father’s schemes.
“I...” Whatever he intended to say became lost as the traincoach lurched and a loud crash of metal rent the air.
Chapter Three
Since Bill’s hands remained on Victoria’s shoulders, they didn’t fall, just pitched forward a bit and retrieved their balance. It startled her to have this happen before they’d left the station, though, and hearing that noise while on a train put her nerves on edge regardless of their position. They both stuck their heads out the windows, looking to see what had hit them. Victoria could not believe her eyes. A huge train, the engine so far ahead she could not make it out, had just backed into her family’s traincoach.
“Dial, Father,” she said into her earwing. Holy hell, how did this happen? Father is going to blow a gasket! Grinning, she looked at Bill and couldn’t suppress her laughter. “Oh, I can’t wait to see what Father does about this,” she said with glee. Something had happened to his precious schedule.
“Oh?” Bill replied.
“He prides himself on his self-control, but he also does not take changes or mistakes well. Oh, just a sec.” She paused as she focused attention on her father’s voice in the earpiece. “Hello, Father. I’m on the train, and you’ll never believe what happened,” she began. However, she made it no further in her explanation.
“Uh-huh…I see.” She looked at Bill in consternation. “Okay. Do you know when you will make it onboard?” Her eyebrows rose as she listened to his response. “Fine. I’ll see you then. Okay. Yes. Goodbye, Father.”
“Well...” Bill prompted when she continued to stand there in silence.
“When my father invited you along, did he give you the impression it would be on our personal traincoach?” she asked without directly answering him.
“What? Yes.”
“Well, it’s our traincoach, but we are being pulled by the mainline. Father’s decided we need to be attached to a larger train. Says it will make the visits more of a surprise, and we’ll get a better idea of how each station is being run.”
“Makes sense,” Bill replied.
“Yes, it does,” she said, bitterness tinging her voice regardless of her best efforts to keep it neutral. “I even told him it was unlikely we could make surprise visits on any station since we need to schedule our arrivals and departures in order to not cross another train at the wrong time. He acted as if I’d said the dumbest thing he’d ever heard and dismissed me.” Rudely. She shook her head and sat back in her chair. “I’ll never understand that man,” she murmured under her breath.
Bill settled into the seat next to her before replying. “So he decided to run with another train, apparently,” he queried. At her nod, he continued. “And didn’t tell you?”
“No. Not even when I boarded. He just told me to get ready for our guest,” she said, the bitterness again leaching into her voice. Would he never show her respect? Ever see her as more than a means to an end? “Far be it from him to let me know the plans had changed.”
“This could be useful to you,” Bill said slowly, in the manner of one thinking out loud.
Victoria stopped her rant, waiting for Bill to elaborate. When he did not do so, she shook her head and stood up, proceeding to the door.
“I don’t see how,” she finally said.
“I want to think about it for a little while. A plan is starting to form, but I need to work out the details,” he replied.
Amused, even with the situation at hand, she smiled at him. “You are so different from the others he’s brought around. Maybe this won’t be such a bad trip after all.”
His answering grin sent shivers of awareness through her. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, what shall we do while awaiting departure?”
She started to answer him, but never got the chance. The Earl of Louisiana walked in.
The Earl began speaking before the door shut behind him. “Oh good. I hope you two took the chance to get acquainted. It’s going to be a long trip.”
***
Bill eyed the Earl with contempt, though he kept it carefully hidden. He understood that most of the titled nobles and gentry still practiced the custom of telling their children whom to marry and when, and many of them still married for lands and titles. However, he hadn’t liked it when his parents tried it on him, and he didn’t like it currently.
“Victoria,” he said, giving her father a cursory glance. “Would you go on a promenade with me?”
Her unexpected giggle hit him in the gut and put his cock in gear, causing him to need to turn so it wouldn’t be obvious to her father. Lord, he’d just met her, and he reacted like this?
“Yes, I would be glad for the walk. No one’s ever called the social lounge deck a promenade before,” she said her eyes twinkling like candles at night.
They moved to the newly attached car, easy in each other’s company. She even allowed him to help her across the couplings. “I don’t need help,” she told him even as she allowed him to hold her hand. “I’ve been crossing couplings all my life, like most every other child in Great Britain.
With a practiced eye, he scanned the area for threats as well as ascertaining the opulence. It truly was a piece of machine magnificence. Dwarf versions of trees from Hyde Park dotted the rich meadow with the High King’s Lake represented as well. Only those in favor of the High King or Queen were allowed entrance into the once public park, and he wondered how the earl managed to copy it so realistically on his traincoach.
The dome-like car contained walking passageways on the upper levels, with a glass ceiling and plenty of windows. He stopped to read the mock historical information and learned with astonishment that the board was an exact duplicate of the one at Hyde Park. It told of the rich history and how, after a civil war in the seventeenth century and the establishment of the four king constitutional monarchy system, they’d closed down the park because of the rebels who’d used it for their battleground. For nearly three hundred years, it stood as a monument of what can happen and as a symbol that the monarchy must remain strong, or it could lose the many lands which provided such great wealth to all of the Great Britain Empire.
The Americas became a great source of untapped wealth at that time. A rebellion there nearly cost them the northern continent. However, the High King, Emperor for those not on the home continent, foresaw the simmering issues. He listened to the lower king, who’d warned him of the grumblings, and lowered taxes on tea and other goods, as well as given boons which snuffed out the rebellion before it caught fire. All of this passed through his mind quickly as he reappraised himself of the continent’s history.
>
Now, Bill looked around him. The Empire had mightily excelled and expanded, becoming the largest nation in the world due to men and women like those in the Hastings family. But it still didn’t answer his question, so he asked Victoria. “How’d you get a replica of bits of Hyde Park and the historical board?”
“My grandmother and the dowager queen grew up together and were fast friends. As a youngling, I played in those gardens,” she replied.
“But that means...” He trailed off, not sure of the safest way to ask. How much could he say without risking revealing his identity? The King of Americas would have his hide. He looked around. No pun intended.
“Is it a problem that I possess a title?”
More like six, including Duchess, which, for some reason, the family managed to subvert from the public consciousness. One of his many tasks to fish out. “Not a problem. You just hadn’t informed me that I should be addressing you as my lady.”
“They are not as formal in the Americas as on the Continent. In the early days, the land was so wild and seemingly untamable, lawlessness abounded. For our protection, we got out of the habit. Now, at a formal ball, I am still introduced as The Lady Moores, Viscountess.”
“So your titles are Scottish?”
“Now, kind sir, the Scottish aren’t the only ones with hereditary titles for the fairer sex, mostly thanks to the dowager queen. But I’m sure you have heard the stories as often as I.”
He laughed and took her hand, tucked it under the crook of his arm, and began walking. “I think, my Lady Moores, that your grandmother and m...” He hoped she didn’t catch the hesitation and hear his slip. He almost said his great aunt. “My queen was more into telling you these stories than my father was in passing them on.”
“What about your mother?”
“She always did as my father asked.” When had he become so bitter about it? He realized, with a jolt, that watching Victoria’s father had brought it to the surface. Though gifted with many talents, his mother had little time to explore any of them. He’d have to think on it at a later time.
“Are you from the Americas?”
Bill paused as he thought how to answer the question. According to his work profile, he came from the American continent. However, he held no desire to lie to her. The only desire he possessed came from a completely different part of his anatomy, although using his tongue wasn’t out of the equation. “No,” he said. “We have holdings here and spend time at them every year. From your speech, it seems you grew up on this side of the pond.”
“I did, yes. But while my mother was alive, I spent many years in Great Britain, particularly the Scottish Isles. My grandfather was a Scottish Laird.”
His laughter broke out again. When was the last time he’d laughed like this on assignment? Or anytime? “Well at least I know where you get your hair from,” he teased.
“And the infamous temper to go with it. We Scots kept a king under the high kings. Never fully lost our separate citizenship, unlike the Irish. They refused to compromise, and one day, it killed too many.”
He knew the history well, but listening to her, hearing her compassion as well as the steel beneath it, made him realize how intelligent and kind she was. “You know the Irish killed each other more than the rest of the United Kingdom?” His mother had taught him better. Politics and Religion. You just don’t talk about them while in the wilds of America. Things were a little more volatile on this side of the Atlantic. Yet, here he stood, encouraging her to talk about both.
“I think that one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard is the story of the Irish killing each other over a religion that’s supposed to teach love and peace,” she said in a quiet voice.
“It did bring about religious tolerance.”
“At what cost? Why do we need to lose so much before we see how devastating it is to not accept that others may believe differently than ourselves? Even now, there are people who will persecute those not of the official religion.”
The compassion in her voice belied the figurehead-with-no-substance reputation she retained with the masses. A reputation her father cultivated when he went to other branches of the company. Why did he insist on doing that? Did it have to do with his setting her up with so many men to get her married off?
The idea of her being married off started a slow burn in him. They’d reached the upper levels by now, and he looked around for prying eyes. No one paid them any more attention than the next person.
Bill pushed her up against the glass dome. With the sunset falling behind her, her hair looked like flaming fire, reflecting how he’d started to feel about her. He’d already admired her on paper. Since meeting her in person, he felt like he rode the express train to ever after and didn’t know how to get off—or if he even wanted to.
He put a hand behind her neck and drew her in. Surprise flashed across her features as he dropped his lips to hers and then the fire from the sky spread through him. Their tongues dueled and his free hand brought her body close to his, seeking her fire. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck and met him thrust for thrust, causing him to see and feel each second, each movement in slow motion.
A moment in time. Precious, short, eternity. His mom had mentioned it to him once when he’d questioned her about why she gave up so much for his dad. She’d told him, “For the one moment in time.”
Now he knew. Time slowed so that each whisper of their lips lasted as a hurricane, each heartbeat a lifetime of promise. Then time returned to its normal flow, and his body responded to the soul’s fullness. His ears buzzed with lust, and he wanted to lift her skirts right there and then and complete the act of becoming one. However, it occurred to him she didn’t know the truth about who he was, and it killed his libido faster than a cold shower.
He kissed his way up her cheek, placing a final kiss on her forehead. She relaxed her head against his chest, and he held her close as the sun set.
Something wasn’t right on the Louisiana Rail and Engine Company. The King showed his great knowledge and wisdom once again when he sent Bill to the Hastings’ holdings, and he hoped to live up to the king’s expectations.
Chapter Four
The second day, Bill proved to be an excellent companion. He neither pressured Victoria nor treated her as a pawn in a business game, even as they’d inspected a smaller station on the line. Over the course of their time together, they spoke of art, sports, trains, and history. Anything she could think of, she asked. The kiss on the promenade gave rise to foolish dreams and desires. She wanted to find a flaw in him, something—anything—to prove he wasn’t as good as he seemed, to counter the welling attraction that built in her, despite her best efforts to tamp it down.
Instead, she found him to be well educated, able to have a disagreement without disparagement, and a good listener which caused her to smile more than she remembered doing in a long time, despite her father’s presence. She caught her father’s smug look a few times as they’d checked on the station masters and other workings of the railroad station but refused to let it faze her. The inheritance would come to her, and then she would deal with the Earl’s manipulations.
By the end of the day, Victoria’s intuition said she could trust Bill, as much as anyone could upon short acquaintance. Although she squashed the thought immediately, she wished he’d kissed her good night and repeated the sensations from the dome. Something different had happened to her then, and she wanted more of it. Glad not to be pushed, on the third day, she still found herself looking forward to spending time with him when she woke. Fighting her needs and wants with decorum, she waited until after the servers delivered their breakfast before speaking of the day’s plans.
“We will be arriving at one of the larger stations today,” she began, then halted. What was she doing? Should she be asking him to go explore the station and town with her? One look at his lips, and she decided, yes, definitely. Maybe he’d kiss her again. She didn’t like the formal distance between them.
It was almost as if Bill regretted kissing her.
“Yes, we will. About an hour, I should think. What’s up?” Bill asked.
“I thought we could explore. The train will need to refuel, so we’ll have time after the inspection if we want to go out into town, maybe do some shopping?”
“I would like to get out and look around. I’ve never been in the town of Marial before. A few Spaniards started to colonize it before Great Britain took over. A friend of mine said it’s a great place to get spicy food. Care to join me for lunch after our walkabout?”
Foolishly pleased at his counter invite, she allowed the butterflies in her blood to flitter for a quick moment even as the heat in her belly expanded. “Yes, I believe I would,” she replied, standing up and putting the linen napkin on her gold-rimmed china plate. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get my things together.”
Back in her room, Victoria gathered some items and put them in her leather messenger bag. She put her pencils and sketch pad in, her miniature laptop, a few makeup items, and her wallet. She freshened her makeup even though it appeared fine and fussed like a girl going on her first date. It had been a long time since she enjoyed another person’s company this much. Not since her college chum, Brandon, who sat next to her in entry levels. And this level of sexual attraction? The more she talked with him, the more affected by his mere presence she became.
Already dressed in some of her favorite clothes, black pants, a tea length amethyst purple silk overskirt with a lightweight suede black tank, she put on boots made of the same lightweight suede. The manufacturers in Paris were making a mint off the rich women who lived in warmer climates. They’d developed a way of making strong, tough boots that wore more like gloves. She loved her leather, and when it felt like silk, all the better. Underneath she wore black garters and stockings.
The Shot: Traincoach of Death, Book 1 Page 2
