Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [31]
“No,” he said, and the gravity in his voice must have surprised her. She paused, looked back at him. “With you, I am always Archimedes.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t immediately respond—perhaps she couldn’t decide how to respond. Her gaze searched his features for a long moment.
“Archimedes Fox,” she mused. The corners of her mouth tilted gently. “With balls of iron and a silver tongue. I admire both in a man.”
His heart almost stopped. Then it began to race, his body tensing—his instincts screaming at him to flee. Captain Corsair would never soften so easily. He was in trouble.
“You’re dangerously close to encouragement,” he warned her.
“I forgot to mention your thick head.”
She reached beneath the wardrobe, pulled on some hidden lever, and stepped back. The large cabinet swung open like a door, revealing the small keyhole in the bulkhead behind it.
“My father always had to shove the wardrobe aside.” And then shove it back into place until he was ready to let them out.
“And the scratches in the boards gave away the location,” she said. “So I improved it. I can move the wardrobe from inside the hideaway, too, so that no one can trap me within.”
Archimedes couldn’t respond.
“There were scratches inside, too.” She didn’t glance back at him as she inserted the key. “All around the lock and in a few places on the walls. Tally marks, as if counting off days. And the name Geraldine, written beneath a bawdy little poem.”
Their father had beaten her for that. “She’s always been a writer.”
“And what have you always been?”
“Lucky.”
“So it would seem. You are not still in there, after all.”
“Oh, he always let us out in time for the sermon on Sunday. In truth, that was crueler than leaving us inside.”
“After hearing a few of those sermons, I have to agree.” She opened the panels and stepped inside the shadowed closet. For a moment, Archimedes wondered whether to worry that she’d stowed weapons inside—but of course she had. And it hardly mattered, because she’d been armed the entire time.
When she emerged, he immediately recognized the converted glider in her hands. His glider, transformed into a reinforced satchel that he’d designed to carry delicate paper artifacts. “You didn’t open it?”
“Of course not. Only a look through the glass as we left Venice, and again when Ginger created the forgery. I have not even smoked in my quarters since I’ve had it aboard.”
Oh, his captain was simply amazing. “I could kiss you.”
“I’ll bare my ass for your lips later.”
He laughed and took the contraption, not bothering to hide the shaking of his hands—excitement and relief, a powerful combination. He flicked open the satchel’s cover and the familiar pain lodged near his heart, the incredible sensation of beholding something beyond price, beyond beauty. How could she not kill him for this?
Intending to ask her, he glanced up, but the words caught in his throat, his voice arrested by her expression. Lips softly parted and eyes bright, her face echoed his emotions as she looked at the sketch, but with something more: longing. Then she blinked, and the familiar hardness appeared. Her gaze met his.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely.
Though he’d only managed to speak part of the question, she understood him perfectly.
“For the same reason you don’t seek revenge. Just as throwing you overboard was completely justified by your stupid attempt to take my ship, so is your desire to reclaim this sketch. It is yours— and I’ve been a thief, but I prefer to steal only when necessary. And then there is this.” She rolled her sleeve back over the bracelet. “Remove it now, please.”
“Of course.” He set the glider contraption aside. Her fingers were warm and callused, the skin of her inner wrist smooth, her nails strong and curved like claws. He rotated the first copper segment. “You’ll follow me to the Ivory Market?”
“Yes. And when our business is settled, perhaps we’ll make time for something more.”
Her voice was low, throaty. His heart began to pound. Carefully, he turned the next segment. A brief touch against the side of his neck almost