Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [57]
“So you’d lose your balls of iron and silver tongue.”
“Yes.”
And that terrified him, she realized. Yet he wasn’t backing out of this arrangement. He still planned to help her . . . if he could.
“We will see what happens,” she said. “Perhaps it will not matter at all. And as long as we are discussing possible shortcomings—”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The crack of her knees sounded like muffled gunshots.
“Mornings are difficult,” she said. “They loosen up, but I don’t know how quickly I can move before they do. If we’re ever attacked, I’ll probably just stay in bed and shoot whoever comes through the door.”
Gaze locked on her knees, Archimedes slipped out of his chair, knelt in front of her. Fingers hovering an inch above her skin, he traced the path of the still-fading scars.
“The ones on the right leg are cleaner,” she said. “Those were Jannsen’s—the surgeon on Mad Machen’s ship. Ivy tells me that Eben’s hands were shaking a bit on the left leg, because he’d just spent most of the night in the harbor looking for me, but he wouldn’t let her take over. There are about thirty screws still in the bones. Sometimes I think I should have just let Eben cut them off, but they are fine legs, aren’t they?”
He looked quickly up into her face, brows drawing together as if not quite believing her wicked tone. When he saw the grin that matched it, he gave a smile of his own.
“Very fine legs. But I’m still waiting.”
“Why? We’re married now.”
“I will not even kiss you until my heart is so full of longing that I cannot help myself. And if you initiate a kiss, I’ll consider it a sign that you’ve fallen madly in love with me, too.”
He was serious, she realized. “I’ll say I love you in bed, if that’s what you want to hear.”
His brows rose. “Would you truly?”
Would she? If he came to love her, could she tell him the same? Yasmeen had no compunction about lying, but she’d been on the receiving end of such a lie before, and the knife to her belly had hurt less. She wouldn’t do that to him.
“No.” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”
“Thank God,” he said. “Because I’m not ready for you to break my heart.”
“But if you fall in love with me, I will.”
“I know. But try not to break it in Rabat, where I wouldn’t feel the anguish properly.” He stood and held out his hand. “Now, then. Shall I help you loosen up? Ceres awaits us . . . Mrs. Fox.”
“Captain Fox,” she said, clenching her teeth as he pulled her to her feet and slid his arm around her waist. “And now I’m doubly glad you didn’t call yourself ‘Stallion.’ ”
“That will be your secret name for me. I hope you tell everyone.”
She laughed through her first step, gritted her teeth again. But with every step, anticipation built. They’d soon be en route to the sketch.
And she was going to completely ruin Captain Guillouet’s day.
Chapter Seven
They found Ceres tethered on the main dock, spars extended and sails furled. Constructed in the fashion of a sugar sloop, a fat balloon held up her heavy-bellied ship, and two propellers flanked a tapered tail. Well made, and although not as sleek or as swift as her lady, Ceres would have been fine to look upon if she hadn’t been decorated to advertise Guillouet’s loyalties. A Huguenot cross was emblazoned across both sides of the balloon in gold and blue, shouting his allegiance to the French king.
Yasmeen hopped out of the steamcoach, and held open the carriage door while Archimedes dragged out their trunk and hefted it onto his shoulder. They didn’t have to walk far, though they missed the cargo lift’s current run. Four marines and their equipment were already ten feet into the air when she and Archimedes reached the loading platform. Marsouins, by the regimented look of them, skilled in aerial and underwater combat—and as they weren’t wearing uniforms, probably turned soldiers-for-hire. If Kareem al-Amazigh had secured them for this expedition, he must be expecting Archimedes to find a significant amount of treasure.