Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [26]
A fine proposal, but with one flaw. “You have ten thousand livre?”
Her ragged gasp cut off mid-inhalation. She choked, coughing on smoke and astonishment. She pounded her fist against her chest, stared at him with wide, watering eyes.
“Ten thousand?”
“Yes.”
“By the lady’s shining teeth,” she breathed. “Little wonder you changed your name. Altogether, I only have a fifth of that.”
A significant fortune by any standard, but still not enough. Archimedes stood and stomped his feet more snugly into the tall leather boots, ignoring the shouted curse from the room below.
“We need to be aboard your airship before the hour is up,” he reminded her.
He half-expected her to kill him now, but she only shook her head, muttered “Ten thousand,” and started for the door. On the stairs, she tied the kerchief over her hair, but waited until they were outside before speaking again.
“How the hell did you stack up ten thousand in debt?”
“I lost a shipment.”
“One shipment worth that?”
“Yes.” He tossed the stub of his cigarillo into the water sloshing against the dock. “My supplier was unhappy.”
“If you’d lost ten thousand of mine, I’d have killed you for it, too.”
But she wouldn’t kill him for a sketch worth more? He didn’t ask, though. No need to encourage her. “Zenobia told me what you did to Mattson. Thank you for that.”
“You can thank me with fifty percent.” She arched her brow at him when he laughed. “No? Don’t give me your gratitude, then. It was never for her. Mattson tried to cheat me with an actress. Did he believe I’d be so stupid and not see through it?”
“The actress tried to cheat you, too. She’s still alive.”
“And she was as much of a threat to me as you are: none. Unless, of course, you manage to make a fool of me. She didn’t.”
But he had. Archimedes fought the sinking sensation in his gut. “How many men have ever managed to make a fool of you?”
She offered her hard-edged smile and glanced down at the bracelet. “The better question is: How many are still alive?”
“One,” he guessed.
“And if you’d like to keep it that way, Mr. Fox, make certain not to do it again.” She smoothed her woolen cuff down her wrist, hiding the bracelet. “If you even suggest to my crew that you’ve threatened your way aboard my lady, I’ll rip out your spine.”
He could see she meant it. God. “That’s unbearably arousing.”
She swept a considering look the length of his body, pausing once. Her gaze lifted to his again. “Your purse is bulging, Mr. Fox. Tuck it away before you board.”
There wasn’t any room in his breeches to tuck it, but a walk to the end of the docks and the breeze carrying the harbor’s stench into his face did the trick. Yasmeen stopped beside Lady Corsair’s steel tethering cable and gave it three hard strikes with the flat of a blade. Above, a woman’s head popped over the side, her pale blond hair washed in gold by the light of the deck lanterns. Ms. Pegg, Archimedes remembered from the journey to Venice. After the captain had taken her knife from his throat and allowed him on board, Pegg had shown him to his cabin, shaking her head all the way as if he’d been headed to the gallows rather than a finely appointed stateroom.
Silently, Yasmeen held up her fist. Pegg nodded and disappeared. A loud clank sounded. A moment later, the cargo platform unfolded from the side of the wooden ship and lowered on rattling chains. When it reached a few feet above the docks, the captain leapt to the metal platform and struck one of the chains. It jolted to a halt, and Archimedes climbed up before it reversed direction. She looked him over, cool amusement settling into her expression.
Ah. So his presence would be played as a joke in front of her crew. That suited Archimedes. If no one took him seriously, no one would consider him a threat—and they’d ask fewer questions when he left.
The platform rose, and the loud continuous clink of the chains being winched into the windlass prevented any further conversation until the platform clanged into place against the rail.
Yasmeen hopped to the deck. “Thank you,