“But I can’t—how will I get back to my room in that?”
“Ah. Excellent point.” He looked at the dressing gown and back at me. His eyes grew smoky, but he blinked and looked away, drawing a slow breath. “You enjoy your bath. I will return shortly.”
He strode quickly from the room and closed the door firmly behind him. I fanned myself, not sure if the steam in the room was from the bath water or the heat building between us.
“This is totally cogged,” I muttered. We were both going to be in ever so much trouble if anyone discovered I’d been here. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. Not one bit.
While the tub filled, I looked through the contents of the basket. Several small bars of soap were wrapped in brown paper printed in Gallic. I chose one that smelled of lavender. There was also a jar of bath salts. On opening it, I caught a whiff of pungent eucalyptus and cedar and decided to pour a bit into the water. The fragrance seemed to seep into my skin and I felt more relaxed already.
When the tub was almost full, I turned off the water and peeled away my soiled clothing. I slid into the hot water and nearly cried at how lovely it felt on my aching body. I took down my hair and dunked under the water to wash it with the lavender soap. After I had washed, I leaned against the rim of the tub and let the heat sink deep into my muscles.
I closed my eyes and sighed. This had been a brilliant idea.
Drowsily, I heard the door to the apartments open and close. The wood floor of the bedroom creaked, and a soft knock sounded at the bathing room door.
“Minx?” Dietrich called. “You will find a complete outfit on my bed when you are finished. I will be in the parlor preparing some tea. Join me when you’re ready.”
“Where did you find the clothes?” It seemed scandalous to be talking to him when I was naked, and all that separated us was a thin wooden door.
“Costume department.”
“Ah. Good idea.” My voice sounded breathy and sleepy. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“Is the bath all right?”
I smiled at the closed door. “It’s lovely, thank you.”
“Very good. Take your time. I’ll just be—well, I suppose I already told you that.”
Another hesitation, and then the floor creaked again.
I stayed until the water had chilled beyond comfort. When I was out and toweled off, I wrapped myself in the wine dressing gown. It smelled like him, and I rubbed my face against the satiny fabric.
I snatched the clothing off his bed—unable to bring myself to change in his room. In the bathing room once more, I reluctantly shed the dressing gown and slipped on the chemise and drawers, and then the simple skirt and blouse he’d found, along with a pair of soft woolen stockings. I braided my hair and secured it with a ribbon ripped from my ruined chemise.
His room was much colder than the well-heated bathing room, so at the last moment, I put the dressing gown on again, and limped hurriedly into the parlor before I lost my nerve.
He was standing by the parlor stove, setting two cups of tea on a tray. When he turned and saw me, his breath caught.
I crossed my arms. “Is this all right? I was a little chilled.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice raspy. “It’s perfectly fine. Feeling better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
He motioned to the settee, and brought the tea tray to a low table in front. He settled next to me on the small sofa and offered me a cup. “It’s chamomile with honey—I thought it would be calming.”
Calming? Being here with him, wearing his dressing gown, the intimate scent of soap lingering on us both—no, no tea was going to calm me at this moment. I took a sip of the hot, fragrant drink, my heart thudding in tense rhythm. “It’s quite good, thank you.”
He nodded, but put his own cup down without tasting it. His eyes never left me, and he didn’t speak. I tried to find something to say, but my mind was too full of things that shouldn’t pass my lips.
Why had I come to him? When there were still things about him that frightened me, why was it that his embrace was the thing I’d wanted most? It made no sense. And yet here I was, wanting more than just comfort. There were so many reasons why I shouldn’t—his position, the rules, the way I was still so screwn up inside. The impending confrontation with the Peacock.
Raymond.
Oh god. He was one of my best friends. I couldn’t, didn’t want to, hurt him. But the knowledge ached inside me—unless I left now, I couldn’t prevent it.
I saw the same struggle reflected on Dietrich’s face. In some ways, we were so similar—I knew he was cataloging all the logical reasons this was a bad idea, same as me. I also knew he was losing the argument with himself, same as me.
Dietrich, don’t look at me that way. Stop making me want you. We should drink our tea, say goodnight, and pretend I was never here.
I was going to do the right thing. I was going to thank him, give back his dressing gown, and leave.
I reached toward the low table, cup in hand.
He grabbed my wrist before I could let go. My hand shook, my fingers slipped. The cup clinked to the table, sloshing a bit of tea on the marble surface.
I looked into his face, now only inches from mine.
His lips were parted, his breath coming in short bursts. His eyes glowed with green flame. His hand was hot gripping my wrist, but the pressure was light.
Stay? Or go?
I’d tasted him once. Could it have been only the night before? God, he smelled so good.
This was a different sort of magic surrounding us, making the air thick and warm. A thrilling, heady, irresistible spell chanted out with each beat of our hearts.
I held my breath.
Stared into his eyes.
And chose.
I lunged for him, plunging my hands into his hair, pulling him to myself. His lips slid against mine in a frantic tangle of breath and heat and tongue. He hauled me against himself so that I straddled his lap, my skirt sliding up to my thighs.
We clutched at each other, thirsty and hungry, hot kisses blending together, too much and yet never enough. Everything was sandalwood and eucalyptus, the taste of skin and the raspy whispers of words half-spoken and unneeded. It was as if molten silver coursed through my veins, and I didn’t, couldn’t, stop—not even for air.
He broke the kiss, gasping, but didn’t pull away. His mouth pressed against my neck, sending heated shivers down my body. His hands slid across my back, the satin of his dressing gown that I wore swishing under his touch.
I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to me. I sensed his magic, but for once it didn’t bother me. His desire for me made me feel strong.
He kissed his way back to my mouth, his hands on either side of my head. Then, without breaking away, his fingers dropped to the buttons of my blouse. He undid half a dozen or so, enough to push away the layers of fabric to expose my shoulders.
He drew back and traced my collarbone with gentle fingers. He lifted his gaze to my face, his expression searing, demanding, and yet infinitely tender. “Gia,” he murmured.
I closed my eyes and leaned toward him.
He kissed my bare shoulder. His hands brushed across the front of my chemise.
Flames shot through me. They were chased by a darker, colder stream of unease. I wasn’t as strong as I’d hoped—as I wanted to be.
“We can’t.” My voice was low and hoarse. “I…I can’t. Not yet.”
“I know,” he said against the hollow at the base of my throat, his words kissing my skin. “We won’t.”
But I knew he wanted it. In a way, I did too, in spite of everything. I wanted to want, without fear.
Open-mouthed, he traced the edge of my chemise with his tongue. “I just…”
Raw longing flooded me. “Yes, I do too.”
He tugged on my chemise, only shifting it a little. He caressed my skin softly with his lips while his fingers tried to push the fabric lower.
A kn
ocking sound broke the spell.
We froze.
More raps from the apartment door, and this time a voice. “Presul Wolff?” The voice was quiet, masculine.
Raymond?
Dietrich and I stared at each other, not daring to breath or move. My heart pounded, and my lungs begged for air.
Let it be anyone but him.
Dietrich silently pointed at his bedroom. I slid off his lap and skittered to the room. I shut the door half-way and stood behind it, peeking through the space between the hinges, into the parlor as Dietrich took several deep breaths and tried to tame his messy hair. He tugged his dressing gown around him and headed for the door.
My pulse raced, and I tried to calm my breathing. What was Raymond doing here? Dark guilt hung like an iron chain around my neck. My head ached.
And yet, why should I feel guilty? I had made no promises to Raymond. No commitments.
I knew how he felt about me. And all these years, he’d been steadfast and loyal. And safe. I loved that about him.
I cared about him. And I did want him.
So what was I doing here?
The trembling began again.
I heard their voices, but couldn’t make out the exact words. Dietrich walked out of my line of vision, and when he returned, he handed something dark and bulky to Raymond. More murmured voices, and then the door shut.
Dietrich’s tall form filled the bedroom doorway a moment later. “He was retrieving his coat from me,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Of course.”
A strained hush fell on us.
Finally, I looked away. “I should go.”
“I wish you could stay.”
“I do, too.” It was the truth, as much as it shamed me to admit it.
What a disaster.
I shrugged out of the dressing gown and handed it to him. He took it from me and tossed it across his bed. I shivered, partly from the loss of its warmth and partly from picturing myself in its place on the bed.
His hands reached for me, to do up the buttons he’d unfastened. His lips brushed my cheeks and forehead.
He left me to go into the bathing room and returned a moment later with my old clothing rolled into a bundle. He handed it to me and we walked arms around each other to the door.
His goodbye kiss was flavored with wistful longing, as if it were the last time we’d ever be together. And maybe it would be—at least like this. We certainly couldn’t make it a habit. It was far too dangerous.
I crept into the quiet corridor and we shared one last, heated glance before he shut his door.
I felt like crying, but I wasn’t sure if it was from sadness, exhilaration, or sheer exhaustion. Maybe all three. I limped down the hall, thankful that my stockinged feet made no noise.
I almost made it to the female apprentice wing when a voice broke the stillness.
“Minx!”
I gasped and whirled around. Raymond stood there, relief filling his face.
My stomach dropped. This couldn’t be happening. I needed to talk with him, but this wasn’t the right time. “What are you still doing up?” I didn’t mean to sound so cranky.
His brows drew together. “Looking for you. Thea was worried—you were gone a long time and we didn’t know where.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry about your devices.”
“So am I.”
He drew nearer to me, and I forced myself not to shrink away. But it felt as if Dietrich’s kisses were burned into my skin for all to see.
“You’ll get them redone in time.” He reached for me, then stopped. “You changed clothes. And your hair is damp.” He stared at it a moment, then looked away, his face reddening.
I could only imagine what mental images had made him blush.
“I washed up, and then thought I should find someplace to put these smelly things.” I held up the bundle of ruined clothing. “But I’m not sure where to stash them, so I suppose I’ll have to wait until the maids can take them away tomorrow.” I felt terrible for lying to him, but how could I possibly tell him the truth?
He brushed my cheek with his fingers. “You do smell better. Like…” The smile faded, replaced by confusion, and then a darkening frown. “Eucalyptus. Like I smelled earlier…” He glanced down at his coat and back at me, his eyes widening, his jaw tightening.
Shit.
“Raymond—”
“You were with him.” His words were low, tight. “You—he…” He turned from me, jamming his hands through his hair and down his jaw.
“No, nothing like what you’re thinking. Honest.” I touched his coat sleeve.
He yanked away. “I don’t want to know.” He looked back to me, shaking his head.
I thought for a moment he’d say something more, but he clamped his mouth shut.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
He straightened and gave me a small bow. “Not at all, Miss Mellor. Goodnight.”
He strode down the hall.
I watched him go, and my heart shattered.
But I was too exhausted to cry.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I woke the next morning determined to set everything to right. The last three days since the Airship party had been nothing but one disaster after another—mostly because of me. I didn’t consider myself a particularly disastrous kind of girl, so it was high time to get back to how things should be—with me cleverly solving problems instead of creating them.
Raymond avoided me at breakfast. Thea knew immediately something was wrong, but I told her it was a misunderstanding and that I’d clear it up as soon as I had a chance. Truth be told, I didn’t have a clue how to fix that particular problem. I wasn’t sure it was fixable. There was every possibility that I’d lost my best friend. And if I lost him, I’d probably lose Thea too. She’d warned me not to hurt him.
I should have taken her warning more seriously. A chap like Raymond should never be hurt by anyone, especially not by a friend.
Somehow, I would find a way to make it right.
After breakfast, I sought out Dietrich before he left the Guild member dining room. Raymond walked past us, glaring. My heart clenched, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment.
“Good morning, Presul Wolff.” I tried to keep my tone impersonal and respectful.
His eyes blazed for an instant, then he schooled his expression and gave me a reserved nod. “Good morning, Miss Mellor. What can I do for you?”
In spite of my attack of conscience, I had a few ideas. I reined in a smirk and tried not to pay attention to the sparkle in his eyes. No flirting now—this was serious. “I need you to ask Master Fenrey to let me out of my classes until…you know. If I’m to redo all my devices, I need extra time.”
“Of course. Good idea.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “We both need to visit the healer as well. After that, why don’t I also ask for one of the tech studios to be assigned for your exclusive use for the next two weeks? They could rekey the lock and give you the key so you wouldn’t have to worry anything happening again.”
“That would be amazing! Thank you.”
His eyes glowed. “It’s my pleasure.”
“And I would like to know—” I lowered my voice. “—when Delphine returns, please.”
“Yes. I will send for you myself.”
Our visit to the healer was quick, and it was a relief to have the remaining ache removed from my leg. Dietrich clearly felt better as well. I followed him around for the next hour and a half as he spoke with Master Fenrey and arranged for a tech studio to be turned over to me. I strode at his side, and it was hard to miss the envious glances I received from other apprentices we passed in the halls. They could tell I was on important business, and I’d been singled out by our steam-engine presul. I didn’t blame them for being jealous. My smug enjoyment dimmed somewhat when my thoughts turned to exactly how important this mission was. But I’d be lying
if I said it didn’t bring me some satisfaction to be needed on something so critical.
Our conversation was limited and impersonal. We never touched. But a restrained warmth flowed between us like an underground river. Sometimes he would catch my eye and give me a small smile that made my heart constrict with its beauty.
Maybe it was wrong, but I couldn’t entirely regret choosing him.
He helped me move my equipment and supplies into the tech studio that would be mine for the next two weeks. Then he placed the new key in my hand and closed my fingers around it.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” He gave me a steamy grin and lifted my hand to his lips to place a kiss on the inside of my wrist.
A hot shiver raced to the pit of my stomach. I brushed my thumb against his lips. “I’m sure I’ll need lots of other things.” I tried to sound flirty, worldly, but it came out as a sort of cracked whisper.
“Make a list.” He winked at me. Then, he let go of my hand and left the studio, shutting the door behind him.
I sank onto the bench and picked up a loose sheet of sketch paper to fan myself with. Grinning, I started the long process of recreating my prototypes.
Not an hour later, Dietrich was back with word of Delphine’s return. I hastily locked the studio, and we met up with Lucy Davies and Nadine at the entrance to the girls’ wing.
I embraced Nadine and then curtseyed to Lucy. “How is she?”
Nadine motioned us all into a small reception room used for the rare family members who came to visit. Not until the door was closed did she let Lucy respond to my question.
Lucy took the seat Nadine offered her. “Miss Birdwell’s physical injuries are all but gone now. In that respect, she will be fine.”
“What about a…baby?” I blushed to even mention it in front of Dietrich. We theater people weren’t nearly as squeamish as Polite Society when it came to such things, but it still wasn’t very good form to mention pregnancy in front of a man.
Lucy’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “I’ve made sure that won’t be an issue for her.”
I nodded, letting my breath out in a rush.
“Good,” Nadine said, her tone unusually sharp, “a child is the last thing she needs to deal with now.”
Chains of Silver: a YA Theater Steampunk Novel (Alchemy Empire Book 1) Page 28
