Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [23]
He glanced toward the knives and pistols. “How does your airship fly with you aboard? You’ve tucked enough steel and iron into your pockets to weigh down Father Calvin the Blowhard.”
She smiled, and the curve of a soft mouth never seemed to have so many sharp edges. Archimedes knew that if he’d been a sensible man, he’d have run to the nearest priest—blowhard or not—fallen to his knees, and prayed that she wouldn’t come after him. He’d heard of men who’d boldly hunted boilerworms across the Australian deserts freezing in terror at the sight of Captain Corsair’s smile, but the shiver it gave Archimedes had nothing to do with fear.
Instead, he thrilled to the realization he hadn’t had to work very hard for her smile after all.
As there was room on the mattress next to her hip, he sat. Her smile vanished. He suspected that if he’d run his fingers the length of her thigh, tension would have hardened her muscles to stone.
But although he wasn’t always a sensible man, Archimedes didn’t touch her. He hadn’t touched her beyond the brisk, necessary search for weapons. And though it had killed him, he hadn’t even touched her warm skin during that brief exploration, not even when he’d spotted the small key on the silver chain around her waist. Some actions crossed a boundary into unforgivable. Captain Corsair was uncharted territory, but he didn’t think he’d crossed the line yet.
No need to mention that he’d sniffed her hair while searching through the thick strands for pins that she could use to stab him. Tobacco and coconut. He’d never smell either again without remembering the silken plaits that weaved the intricate crown, usually hidden beneath her kerchief. Without wondering whether she braided them herself, arms lifted like a dancer’s and her neck arched.
And absolutely no need to mention the short black tufts at the tips of her ears. She’d purposely concealed them under her braids and kerchief, and he suspected that admitting the inadvertent discovery would leave her feeling as violated as shoving his hand between her legs.
She could keep her secrets. One day, when he nibbled on her ears, perhaps she’d reveal them.
“No doubt I missed a few weapons,” he told her. “You’ve likely tucked some away in places that no man would search—at least, no man who intended to live.”
Her eyes narrowed farther, but her gaze turned inward, as if searching out the truth of his statement. When she focused on him again, he saw anger and irritation, but nothing like his sister’s description of the biting cold that had come over the captain’s face before she’d shot Miracle Mattson.
If she hadn’t believed that he’d kept her clothes on and his hands to himself, Archimedes knew he’d already be dead.
“Do you intend to live, Mr. Fox?” Blissed, her accent was strong, but she didn’t slur the words.
“I always intend to live, Captain.”
“You have a stupid way of going about it.”
He grinned. “Not too stupid, as I’m still alive. Would I have been if I hadn’t dosed you with the opium? You’d have seen me rise up out of those crates, assumed I was a threat, and shot me.”
“I wouldn’t have considered you a threat if you hadn’t ambushed me.”
True. “But it wouldn’t have been as exciting.”
This time, her smile didn’t show the edge of her teeth, but he wasn’t fool enough to consider himself safe. “Are you threatening me now, Mr. Fox?”
Until he’d turned around and found her watching him, Archimedes had considered it. The threat would have been simple: If she didn’t turn the sketch over to him, he’d invite half of Port Fallow up to see her on his bed, wearing a slave bracelet. He wouldn’t have made good on the threat, of course. No one else would ever see her like this. But the moment Archimedes had met her eyes, he’d realized that she’d never forgive him for simply speaking that threat.
Threatening her life was another matter entirely.
“Of course I am.” He gestured to the room’s single window, which offered a moonlit view of her airship hovering over the