by A. W. Exley
An exasperated sigh rose in her chest. She raised her lips close to his throat, nipped his pulse and tasted the salty sweat from his earlier exertions. Her bite reminded him she had teeth and claws.
A shiver ran through his torso and he tightened his embrace, one hand stroking down her back. “Be careful what you start,” he warned.
She dragged her mind back to their current predicament, her lips murmuring close to him. “It gets worse. We also have the problem of an Egyptian necklace which is not just a piece of jewellery. I could be wrong, but my gut says the artifact motivates Victoria’s call to arms.”
He swore again, a sentiment Cara shared. Her mind drifted back to thoughts of fleeing to Australia or America as an option. The idea of running a saloon in hot and sunny California appealed, particularly if she could get Nate to wear a black Stetson, leather chaps, and little else.
“Are you sure about the necklace?” he interrupted her cowboy daydream.
“Yes. And, well―” She pulled loose and threw up her hands. They couldn’t talk freely here and there was so much at stake. Frustration pulsed through her body. She wanted―needed―to pace and let the excess energy loose. “How are we supposed to figure this all out with you stuck in here?”
“Quite.” His lips twitched. “A most inconvenient situation.” His steady gaze followed her restless movements about his enclosure.
She pressed a hand to her temple, trying to tell the voices inside her head to all pipe down so she could think. “Any suggestions?”
He gestured for her to return to him.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a puppy you know. I don’t always come when I’m called.”
“We’ve not finished our conversation.”
She narrowed her eyes, sure he used the circumstances to circumvent her anger at his trickery. With reluctance, she stepped into his embrace again. He kissed her throat and trailed upward to the lobe of her ear. “Tell Jackson it’s time to move the chest.”
“The chest?” His words were spoken so low, she had to repeat them to make sure she heard correctly.
He has something flesh and blood stored in a chest? If it has “property of Victor Frankenstein” stamped on the side, I’m opting out of this chase. One cryptic comment piled on top of another and she reached saturation point. “Then what do we do with it?”
His lips took a path down her neck. “I have been remiss as a husband. I realise I owe you a honeymoon. St. Petersburg is lovely in autumn. Have you ever been to Russia?” He kissed the hollow of her throat, his tongue licking her skin, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
He feels so damn good. Maybe I’ll divorce him, but keep him on as my lover. Her resolve to stay angry wavered under his touch. A small part of her brain still functioned and she filed the comment about Russia away while she leaned closer to his heat.
“Once you have the chest, find Loki.”
“Loki?” She gave an amused snort, wondering what assistance the treacherous pirate could offer. “After the other night?”
Nate peeled away the collar of her jacket, so he could kiss along her shoulder. “He doesn’t hold a grudge and he likes a challenge. Not to mention he owes me for trying to cheat at cards and steal you. Tell him it’s time to dig out his Wagner recording.”
ate afternoon drifted into early evening before Cara extricated herself from Nate’s arms and returned to the house. Once over the threshold of the Mayfair mansion, she removed the long pins from the little silk hat and stabbed them into the band for safe keeping. She narrowed her gaze at Jackson, wondering at the depth of his involvement.
“What have I done?” he asked, brushing the front of his jacket as though expecting to find something stuck to the fabric.
“I was wondering how much you know when I’m supposed to be second in charge around here.” Nate had offered her the position of his second, but she discovered he never extended any real trust, or information, to go with the role. She found herself far down the food chain at this exact time, suspecting she knew less than his dock workers. He tried to shelter her from the depth and darkness of his activities, but no more.
“Oh.” Jackson removed his bowler hat, and ran a hand over his close shorn head. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve been with him ten years and I still don’t know half of it.”
Cara scowled. She had worked for Nate for nearly two months and been his lover for slightly longer. She expected trust, but was disappointed to discover it hadn’t yet been forthcoming. A situation about to change; as his wife she intended to stick her fingers into all his hidden pies, no matter how messy she made things. She turned her gaze back to the henchman.
“Nate said to tell you it’s time to move the chest. I assume it’s somewhere Victoria could find it?” She stripped the kid leather gloves from her hands and tossed them on the hall table next to the hat.
“She’d have to be looking pretty damn hard.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “What does he want to do with it?”
“He mentioned honeymooning in Saint Petersburg. So I assume he wants to get it out of England. I would suggest we need to load it on an airship.”
He blew out a breath. “Soldiers are starting to crawl all over us, it won’t be easy. I’ve got an idea that should work. I’ll give it a crack.”
Cara folded her arms over her chest. “Not without me, you won’t.”
“He wouldn’t want you put in any danger.” Jackson spread his hands wide as though in apology that he couldn’t include her.
She gave a snort of laughter. “I’ve had a maniac try to carve my heart out. Moving a chest sounds like a day out in the park by comparison.” She had a strong urge to stomp her foot. “And I’m tired of cryptic comments and being left in the dark. I want to know what exactly is going on around here before I start sprouting mushrooms.”
He rolled his eyes, but capitulated. “It’s at the Pit. You’ll need to change clothes, and we’d best leave it until dark.”
She glanced down at the expensive outfit, probably not the best choice for conducting an illegal activity. “All right. I have another errand we can do first. Grab Miguel and bring the carriage around.”
Cara ascended the stairs to the master bedroom and changed her outfit. She chose pale breeches and a blue and green patterned corset with iridescent threads, making it look as though she were clothed in peacock feathers. She threw a short cropped jacket over the top. Made of soft green wool, it added some protection against the descending chill outside. A blade lay against her forearm, the hilt ready to drop into her palm if needed, and she strapped her pistols around her body.
In the driveway the mechanical horses stood immobile, statutes of copper, bronze, and steel, their patience inexhaustible as they waited for her. Miguel lounged against the side of the carriage, but straightened on seeing her approach.
Jackson held the door open for her. “Where to, doll?”
She shook her head. It didn’t matter she held the title of viscountess now; Jackson never stood on formality around her. She raised her eyes to the sky, the sun sinking into the horizon already, the autumn days growing shorter. “I need to find Loki.”
Jackson cocked his head to one side. “The Prick and Rose then.”
She climbed into the carriage and they set off to find a sky pirate in a lower class pub in Seven Dials.
Workers finished their long days of labour, and seeking relief from the monotony of their lives, filled the pub with a mass of bodies. Cara, trailed by Jackson and Miguel, made her way through the main bar to the back of the premises. The pub held amateur bouts that were hotly contested and eagerly bet upon by the patrons. She knew Loki would be close to the action, lapping up the adrenaline spilling from the ring. She soon spotted him amongst the crowd at tables loosely arranged in a crescent shape around the combatants. He leaned on a tall table surrounded by several women. They fawned over him, hands dragging down his body as he threw back his head in a throaty laugh.
Lachlan Hawke,
with his dark hair, tanned skin, and lean build, was every inch the pirate. Numerous piercings ran up each ear and his black eyes flashed. Women flocked to the salt air and danger that clung to him. An old friend of Nate, he was his most senior airship captain and a terrible cheat at cards.
Cara leaned on the table, waiting for his eyes to fix on her exposed bosom. “Really, Loki, I thought I was the only woman for you?” She dropped her eyes and bit her lip in a pout.
“I always save you a special spot.” He licked his lips, his gaze burning over her curves. Two of the women curled around his shoulders and threw Cara dirty looks.
She lifted her eyes to smile sweetly at them, pulling back the edge of her jacket to expose the ornate handle of one pistol. “Don’t make me shoot your playthings dearest; you know I have to have your undivided attention.”
Their smiles froze. They detached themselves and drifted into the crowd to find easier targets to part from their money. One purred in Loki’s ear, but he waved a dismissive hand at her. “Off you go, kitten, I have business with a tigress.”
Jackson gave a mournful look as the last of Loki’s admirers waved goodbye before he plopped down a pitcher of ale on the table and fresh tin mugs. He poured Cara first. Miguel stood to one side, his eyes wide, taking in all the sights and the scantily clad women engaged in the first boxing round of the night. Cara pushed a mug close to his grasping hand, the youth’s brain unable to multi task and keep track of the women fighting and the placement of his beer.
He really is like a younger brother.
She focused her attention on Loki and his conduct a few nights previous. She had a growing list of issues to sort out with the men in her life. “Why did you cheat? He’s your friend.”
He gave her a slow smile and rubbed one hand over his chin. “It’s in my nature. I play by my own rules, not anyone else’s. Nate knows that, it’s what has made both of us wealthy men. And I would cheat again if you were going to slide over my lap to stop me.”
She shook her head. She didn’t understand the nature of loyalty between men. She picked up her beer and took a long drink. Loki’s eyes fell to the band encircling her finger.
“As Nate’s best friend, I have to say I am deeply hurt to not be invited to your wedding.”
“It was a very exclusive guest list.” She stared into her amber handle of malty goodness and ran a fingertip through the condensation forming on the outside of the thin metal. “I didn’t even get an invite.”
Loki tossed back his head and laughed. “Did he marry you without you knowing about it?” Humour sparked in his black eyes, his entire focus on her.
Cara took another drink. “Yes. Bought and sold between my father and him, and nobody bothered to mention it to me.”
Mirth animated his entire face. “I can’t imagine you being happy with that particular news.”
“No, but he pre-empted the trouble he was in for that move by getting himself arrested for treason and thrown in the Tower. Now I have to rescue him from being executed, so I can kill him myself.”
“There’s something so very appealing about married women, you know exactly what you want.” He reached out a hand and stroked a finger along the underside Cara’s palm. “If only I had met you first.”
Cara snorted. She liked Loki and her body no longer recoiled at the slightest brush of contact. But Nate was the only man to break through her protective defences and touch her. “Please. You and I would never work and you know it. Except perhaps as a one night only of mind blowing animalistic sex.”
Loki laughed, and Jackson choked on his beer. She had forgotten he was there and could hear every word. At least the women grasping and sliding over each other in the ring kept Miguel distracted.
Loki grinned. “So you’re willing to admit it would be mind-blowing?”
“Of course, I have a soft spot for you.” She gave him a wink.
He stroked her palm again. “I have a very hard spot for you.” His eyes darkened and the humour dropped away.
Cara pulled her hand out of his grasp; his flirting pushed far enough and started to test her comfort level. “You can stop it now. You’re making Jackson blush.”
He chuckled and pushed his arms straight, leaning away from Cara, giving her much needed room to breathe. “How is the lion enjoying being part of Victoria’s zoo?”
An apt description she thought, given the way Nate paced his cage. “He doesn’t enjoy being curtailed. He said to tell you it was time to find your Wagner recording.”
Loki’s eyes widened and he chortled at some private joke.
Cara was tired of all the secrets and games being played. “Can you please tell me what it means?”
His black eyes glinted with amusement. “I once promised Nate if he was ever in deep trouble, I would swoop in with an airship blaring Ride of the Valkyries.”
Cara’s mind leapt to the obvious conclusion and she nearly blew beer back out her nose. She dropped the mug onto the table top with a thud. “He expects us to use an airship to rescue him from the Tower? It’s HMRAS headquarters, over a thousand men are stationed there, and military airships are tethered to the corner towers. It would be suicide.”
His eyes turned thoughtful. “You’re right, my peach. It would be an attempt so monumentally stupid that no one in their right mind would ever consider it.” The grin spread across his face even as he finished his sentence and Jackson started chortling.
She groaned and a lump formed in the pit of her stomach. The impossible odds simply made it more appealing to the infuriating men around her. “You’re going to get us all killed.” She refilled her beer; she didn’t want to hear the rest of his plan sober.
He winked at her. “Not at all, it’s all about sleight of hand. You know about that, you make a show of doing something with one hand while your other quietly dips into some poor lad’s pocket and steals his wild card.”
Cara waved her arm and beckoned over the waitress. She handed the smiling woman the empty pitcher. “We’re going to need more beer.” She turned back to Loki. “So any ideas off the top of your head?”
“I’ll feign an attack on the Tower. It’s been awhile since the Hellcat played, this will be fun. While I’m doing that, and drawing their fire, we’ll have someone sneak in and rescue him.”
“Your idea of fun still sounds suspiciously like suicide to me,” Cara grumbled. The Tower kept its position as a prison and fortification over the centuries for one very good reason; few people ever breached its walls. The odds seemed insurmountable. Hell, they were insurmountable odds; the only question left was pine or oak for the casket? “I hate to be the one to spoil your fun, but the Tower gates are all rather well guarded. Not to mention the troops stationed within the grounds, twiddling their thumbs and looking for something to do to relieve the boredom. Are you suggesting I take Nate’s private army and storm the walls?”
He tapped the side of his nose with one finger. “No, you dip your fingers in unobserved. Take an unexpected entrance.”
She cast a look at Jackson, but he hid behind his beer, leaving rescue plans to the pirate, who had a vast experience at escaping from tight spots while people shot at him. “I’m muscle, doll. He’s the brains on this caper.”
She considered other ways into the Tower. Loki would be in the air, the road gates were heavily fortified. That only left the Thames. “There’s the water gate at Tower Wharf, but soldiers patrol the Thames as well. We’d be sitting ducks out on the river.”
Miguel returned to the conversation. With the women’s bouts over, his one track thought processes could now take an interest in the plans to rescue his master. “We could go under the water.” He took a long swig of beer while the others waited for him to elaborate. “There’s a way, but it would only allow enough room for two.”
“I’ll go with Miguel.” Jackson threw into the conversation, along with a cold platter he liberated from a passing waitress.
Miguel shook his head, picking up a small sausage to pop
whole in his mouth. “There wouldn’t be room to bring Lyons out. It needs to be two smallish people if we’re going to fit him as well.”
Cara blew out a long breath, unable to believe this was the substance of their rescue plan. “This is ridiculous. We can’t send just two people to break Nate out from the Tower of London. Why don’t we ask nicely if the ravens will drop him over the wall? Or we may as well stand at the gate, wave our arms, and ask them to shoot us.”
Jackson topped up everyone’s glasses before signalling for a new pitcher. “The boy’s good with a weapon and anything mechanical. Or did you think Lyons keeps him around for tying his cravat?”
Cara never considered that possibility, or the nature of Miguel’s role within the Lyons Empire. Nate had little use for a valet, getting dressed with him usually meant getting undressed first, and a valet in the room would be inconvenient. Miguel was young, smart, and quick. She reconsidered what talents he possessed that made him valuable to an underworld lord.
“And remember, the greatest number of guards are posted on the walls and the gates. How many actually guard Nate’s room?” Loki asked, the pirate mind examining all the angles of the mad plan.
“One, two at the most.” Damn, but he has a point. Assuming we could make it past the walls. “And close to a thousand will be lounging around, playing cards.”
“Sleight of hand, it will work.” Loki gave her a confident wink.
“All right for you to say so. You’ll be safe in a well-armed airship while I creep around the battlements.” She grumbled about the mess Nate had dumped her in, and wondered if the jeweller would still be open on their way home.
“And who do you think they will all be firing at?” He laughed and held up his hands. “Honestly, we’re doing them a favour. When did the poor boys last get any excitement? Victoria keeps them chained to the battlements like bulldogs, and they grow as equally fat.”
She stared at her beer, hoping to find the answer plastered to the bottom of the tin cup.
