Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2)
Page 12
“We could slip a message to him. I’ll have a think who is best positioned to approach him.”
She gave another swirl of the heady liquor and took a long sip. The brandy gave her the courage to broach a topic simmering in a dark corner of her mind. “The prince has very smooth pants. Is it true what they say, about…?” her voice trailed off, not sure how to phrase her question, despite the bravery she found in the depths of the glass in her hands.
Loki watched the words freeze in her mouth and laughed aloud, guessing exactly where her mind wandered. “You mean does Prince Albert have a Prince Albert?”
Cara fought the flush threatening to rise up her chest. “Yes. I was wondering. He was there in front of me. I spoke to him about Hatshepsut’s Collar, but all I could think about was how smooth his trousers were. I’m guessing it would be a breach of etiquette to ask the royal consort about intimate piercings.”
Loki stroked two fingers along his thin moustache, considering his answer. Laughter danced in his dark eyes. “Well my little peach, they aren’t all about keeping large bulges from frightening the more delicate ladies.”
Curiosity burgeoned within Cara and refused to be contained. “What are they for then?” Her knowledge of the piercing was limited to whispered snippets of conversation, alleging the prince used a chain through the end of the ring, to ensure the smooth fit of his pants went unblemished.
“The piercing heightens sensation.” Loki’s eyes darkened. “Which means my cock brings me oh so much more pleasure with a ring.” He gave her a sensual smile. “It works for the ladies too. Drives them crazy. Very rarely, I encounter one who finds the sensation too intense.”
A frown settled on Cara’s face as she tried to imagine what it would feel like. She tilted her head to regard Nate, her gaze dropping down to his trousers as she tried to fit a piercing to his anatomy.
He gave her a dark look. “I’m not sticking a ring through the end of my cock to satisfy your curiosity.”
“I’ve got one you can play with until you’re satisfied,” Loki told Cara. Leaning forward, his hand reached out to stroke the soft leather over her booted ankles. Nate growled a warning deep in his throat, and Loki dropped his hands away and leaned back on the sofa.
Nate placed his empty glass onto the coffee table. “Someday, my friend, you will meet your match and she will thread a chain through that ring and lead you around by it.”
Loki chuckled and picked up a pack of cards sitting next to him on the striped sofa. “How about a few rounds of strip poker instead?” He tapped out the cards into his palm and began shuffling them, a speculative look in his black eyes as he winked at Cara.
Cara gave a yawn; she had quite enough excitement for the day with a daring raid on the Tower of London, dragon eggs, and an ancient necklace. She did not have the mental resources for poker with Loki. She did want to strip off her clothes, but only so she could stretch out on crisp sheets and let the gentle hum and movement of the airship lull her off to sleep.
“I’m too tired to tangle with you. Where’s my room?” She rose from the sofa and Nate echoed her movement.
“I’m turning in too. I’ll show you to our cabin.” He nodded a good night to Loki.
“Our cabin?” Cara drew her eyebrows together. “I’ve not forgiven you. I want my own room.”
Loki laughed. “It’s an airship, my peach, not a hotel. Space is limited.”
She gave a blank look to Nate who answered. “There are two cabins aboard, you either share mine or Loki’s, unless you want to sleep in the bunk room with the crew.”
Cara tossed up her options and sharing with Loki didn’t even make the short list. If his crew were as rapacious as him, she would be far safer with Nate. She lacked the energy to fight. She figured she could shove a pillow or two between them.
“All right, but don’t make the mistake of thinking this is me deferring to my husband.”
“I wouldn’t dream of making such an assumption.” Nate kept a straight face as he said it, but Loki chortled to himself.
With his wicked laughter in her ears, Cara followed Nate from the mess room and down a short corridor to another wooden sliding door. He pushed the door to one side and gestured for her to enter. She took two paces and stopped to survey their accommodation for the duration of their journey. The room was diminutive, barely large enough to contain the both of them and not large enough for a decent argument or swinging a cat. Cara had nowhere to pace or stalk without brushing past Nate.
The walls were clad in the same cherry wood panelling as the mess. A lamp by the bed threw a gentle yellow glow over the room. A brightly coloured rug of deep blue and golden yellow gave a welcoming touch. The bed was larger than a single, but not quite the width of a double. It would require them to sleep pressed into one another. The blue and yellow swirled pattern of the comforter echoed the floor rug. The bed lay along one wall; a long, thin window above gave a clear view of the starry night sky outside. A narrow chest of drawers built into the wall served as a bedside cabinet. A single wardrobe was latched shut next to the door. The remaining wall held a small built in table and two chairs.
Cara turned on hearing a click. While she assessed the accommodation, Nate slid the door shut and locked it. He pulled the key free and tossed it on the top of the drawers. She raised an eyebrow at his actions.
“Loki has a sense of humour. I don’t want him trying to join us tonight.”
Cara bit her bottom lip on the verge of mentioning that if he did, it would answer her question about piercings, but Nate’s gaze withered the retort on her lips. She chose a different tact. “You’re free of the Tower. Tell me why I shouldn’t run as soon as we land.”
He tapped his chest. “Because running is futile, I will always find you. And I have dragon eggs.”
She wondered what her chances were of an egg hatching, so her eyes could see a dragon, not just touch its shell. She tilted her head to one side. “What if I could undo what the heart has done to us, and you could no longer track me?”
Pain flared behind his eyes and punched along their bond. “I would still find you.” He ground the words out.
She sucked in a breath, underestimating how deep the bond went for him. She changed subject again. “How long will it take us to reach Russia?”
“Two days. When we reach St. Petersburg, don’t forget you have a role to play. We are the honeymooning couple; it will be the cover I need to talk to my contacts at the Russian court.”
Cara stepped around his body and eyed him through lowered lashes. “Can’t we be the married couple who have argued, aren’t speaking, and sleep in separate rooms?”
She pushed too far. He whirled and covered her body with his, pressing her back against the wall. He grabbed both her hands in one of his and held them above her head while his mouth covered hers. With hard pressure, he sought admittance and his tongue plunged into her.
Cara’s anger melted under the heat and intensity of the kiss. Electric pulses coursed through her body as Nate held her in place. He used his free hand to stroke up her side and cupped a breast, his thumb caressing her nipple through the thick fabric of her corset. He didn’t stop his assault on her defenses until he tore a moan from her throat.
He pulled his head up, his breath ragged. “You can be angry at me for what I have done, I understand that, but don’t deny us this.” He released her hands and stepped away. He tore off his jacket and shirt, and threw his clothing on to one of the chairs. Cara sought the support of the wall as she watched him. He was no fat and lazy noble. His lean torso showed the clear delineation of each abdominal muscle. Nate worked himself―and his men―hard and Cara loved exploring every inch of his sculptured body.
He sat on the side of the bed to remove his boots while her breath came in hard-fought gasps.
She licked her lips, heat spreading through her as she watched him strip. “I’m not sleeping with you.” She tried to convince herself as much as him, and failed on both counts.
He peeled away the last item of clothing and climbed into the bed naked. He pulled the blankets over his groin and laid back. With his hands resting behind his head, he watched her, waiting for her to make a move.
Her hands fumbled with the ties and lacing on her clothing, nimble digits turned to thumbs under his intense scrutiny. A slow thrum pulsed through her body at the thought of sleeping with her husband. Removing her corset, she dropped it on a chair and bent to unlace her boots before pulling them off. Hooking her thumbs into the waist of her breeches, she drew them down over her thighs. Nate gave a sharp intake of breath at the sensuous wiggle needed to peel away the tight fitting pants. Kicking them up with a foot, she tossed them with her other clothing. She pulled the short chemise over her head and discarded it, moving toward the bed wearing only her cream silk knickers.
“All of it.” His voice was husky and a wicked smile touched her lips. From the look in his eyes, she realised he was going to have trouble sticking to his word not to make love to her.
She drew off the silk and kicked it away with one foot. She walked―naked―to the bed. Nate pulled back the blankets and she slid in with her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her, drew her against his chest, and rolled. She finished up trapped on the wall side of the bed while his back guarded the door. He curled around her and tucked her closer. His lips grazed her neck as he breathed in her scent.
Her head rested on his bicep, his arm around her waist, holding her to him. Her buttocks nestled into his groin as he pushed against her. Cara let out a sigh, his warmth and scent surrounded her, easing her tight knot of anger. It would be so easy to angle her hips and ease his shaft between her legs, to let him slide over her aching flesh and fill the emptiness inside her. She had found more pleasure in Nate’s arms than she ever imagined possible. Her treacherous body wanted to know why her brain bothered to fight the burning desire when she so desperately sought the heat.
“Sleep, Cara,” he breathed against her neck.
bright shaft of sunlight angled in through the narrow window and played across Cara’s face. She screwed her eyes tighter and rolled away from the invasive daylight, and then raised her hands over her head in a languid stretch. One hand dropped to the side and encountered nothing, the bed next to her lay empty. Given the coolness of the sheets, Nate departed some time ago. An equally cold lump settled in her stomach. She had grown used to waking with his arms around her, his hands roaming her naked body as his hips rocked her to release. For a moment she forget her anger at his underhanded tactics, and missed the man, the warm being who made her body sing.
It’s damn lonely on the moral high ground.
A caress of longing washed over her, followed by a shot of mirth at her growing frustration. She concentrated on shutting off the valve connecting them. She was learning she could control how much she allowed him to sense, but it took effort to close the door Nefertiti’s Heart created between them. When she was tired or distracted, it flung itself wide open once more. Infuriatingly, Nate exhibited far more control over the bond.
She dressed quickly and found her way to the small bridge, opposite the mess they had occupied the previous night. Sun streamed into the light and airy space. A crewman stood at the helm, piloting the airship through the endless blue of the sky. His hands rested on a brass wheel nearly two feet in diameter, the focal piece of the compact, but efficient bridge. Two other crewmen attended a bank of dials, gauges, and levers, occasionally calling out readings to one another as they ensured the smooth running of the Hellcat.
A wide window, angled toward the ground, took up the entire front of the room. A polished rail ran along the length of the glass, and a ledge stretched between it and the window, wide enough for charts, books, or other small objects.
Loki and Nate stood at the window; both dressed in pirate casual of dark breeches, knee high boots, and open-throated linen shirts. Loki had one hand on the rail, his other clutching a mug of steaming coffee. He was engaged in conversation with Nate, who held down a chart on the ledge.
As Cara approached, Loki stuck out his arm and offered the coffee to her. “Nate said you were awake and you’d be wanting one of these.”
She took the mug, flicked her gaze to her errant husband, and then inhaled deeply before taking a sip. Maybe the pesky bond has some use after all.
“He also says you missed his early morning wake up call.” Loki added, causing Cara to splutter into her coffee. “One day you’ll have to tell me how he knew.” He cast a glance between the two of them, but could only guess at the depth of their connection.
“I thought you two were discussing flight plans, not what I am wanting, or missing.” She couldn’t be cross at Loki when he could rustle up coffee this good. She stared out the large window into infinite blue of varying shades. Fluffy white clouds patted the airship as she glided through their midst. Below, the deeper blue of the ocean swirled and tossed up foamy peaks where waves collided.
She tore her eyes from the view outside and moved closer to see the map they studied. Nate reached out a hand and stroked the nape of her neck. She pretended not to notice while she drank her coffee and her gaze roamed the vastness of Russia. Endless forests of green stretched across much of the country, up to the Arctic Circle, and over to the Pacific Ocean. She wondered where they were bound after St. Petersburg.
He rolled up the chart they had been studying. “We’ll be landing tomorrow. Did you pack anything from that modiste I’m paying through the nose for?”
Cara nodded over her coffee. “Yes, I sent Loki a trunk before we rescued you from the Tower. Why?” She glanced down at her corset, breeches, and boots; it was how she normally dressed by preference.
He walked to the centre square island and pulled open a long, narrow drawer. Numerous rolled maps rested tightly against one another. Nate tucked away the one in his hand and bumped the drawer closed. “I’m introducing my viscountess to the Imperial Russian court, and I need you to dress the part.”
“I’m sure I can rustle up something that won’t make me look like a serf. Anyway, what’s the plan? You do have a plan, don’t you?” She flicked her eyes from Loki to Nate, sure one of them plotted something.
Miguel chose that moment to bounce onto the bridge, looking as eager and awake as a Labrador puppy who heard the word walkies. Cara wished she were an eighteen year old on the biggest adventure of her lifetime. Instead, she was trying to save her husband’s arse and her neck.
Miguel brought with him a plate of buttered toast, which he offered on an outstretched palm to Cara. She chewed on her breakfast while waiting for Nate to spill his plans for countering Nolton’s accusation and what he intended to do with three dragon eggs.
Nate’s eyes were the clear blue of the sky today, concealing nothing for once. He leaned against the centre island, his hands lightly curling on the rolled edge. “I have a contact with the Russian court, Count Nikolai Dushov.”
“And why will he be able to help?” She finished the first piece of toast and swiped a second off the delicate plate.
“Because Nikolai is Tsar Alexander’s spy master, and my friend.”
She took another sip of coffee and regarded Nate from beneath her lashes. “He’ll be handy then.”
“I’m hoping Nikolai will be able to help me uncover who Nolton is dealing with and gather sufficient evidence to expose his accusation as a lie.” Nate crossed his arms over his chest, a smile lurking on one end of his lips. “I need you to whisper sweet nothings in the right ears as a distraction.”
Cara snorted. “Seduction’s not my forte.”
“Don’t undersell yourself,” Loki jumped in to the conversation. “You did a good distraction job last week. I
t’s all sleight of hand, remember?”
She ignored him, unwilling to remind Nate how she rode Loki’s lap. “What will happen to the dragon eggs?”
“I’m going to ensure no one will ever imprison them. The situation with Victoria can wait until the eggs are safe in their new home. I have another contact who lives deep in Siberia. Loki and Miguel are going to find Sergei, the dragon master. He goes to St. Petersburg for supplies at the start of autumn. We should be able to catch him.”
“Dragon master?” Cara stared at her coffee, wishing there was something stronger than caffeine lurking in the bottom of the mug. “As in, he masters the dragons?” She wanted to laugh, but knew he was serious, despite how farcical the title sounded, like something from a novel.
The twitch turned into a full blown smile. “I thought you wanted all the details?”
“I’m not so sure now. We keep detouring off into fantasy land. Now I understand how poor Helene went off the deep end after knowing your family for twenty years.” Helene, Countess de Sal, had parted company with sanity many years previously. Cara still couldn’t decide if the syphilis took the woman’s mind or the constant exposure to the Lyons family machinations. She drained her coffee cup and searched the deck for the rest of the pot. She needed more than one mug to kick start her brain.
Loki snapped his fingers at one of the crewmen. He left his spot at the monitoring systems and walked to wall where a steel plate had a handle in the middle. He pulled, and the plate turned into a square coffee pot, cunningly fitted into the surrounding machinery. A second, and much smaller, handle turned into a milk pot and sugar bowl. He walked to Cara and topped up her mug.
“It’s a coffee machine,” he explained, waving the pot to indicate the empty slot in the wall. With the pot removed, she could see a short, wide funnel pointing downward. “It has beans inside and a water supply, and makes the coffee itself. Keeps the men awake during the night shifts and saves going up and down the stairs with a fresh pot all the time.”