Heart of Iron

Lynch reached out and yanked a glass sliver out of his muscle.



Son of a bitch. Will hissed. “Some warnin’ would have been nice.”



“You’ll heal.” Lynch said. “Perhaps it will teach you to keep a cool head.” He glanced at one of his comrades. “Take a witness statement, Garrett. And an estimation of the damage.”



For the first time Will looked around. Glass littered the room, precious jewels tumbling from their cases onto the timber floors. Blood dripped from a nasty sliver of glass casing and he had the pleasure of the memory of smashing Colchester’s face into it, again and again.



The shopkeeper stared at the damage soundlessly. His eyes were wide and unblinking. “How am I going to tell Martha?” he whispered. “The duke’ll blacken my name. He’ll destroy me.”



Will’s fingers curled in shame. He should have held his temper. “I’ll pay the damage bill.”



Lynch grabbed his arm and gestured toward the front door. The grim crawl of evening darkened the sky outside, thick clouds boiling on the horizon. “I’d suggest it’s time for you to leave. It wouldn’t surprise me if Colchester returns—with a few friends. He’s not likely to take this lying down. And I’ve done as much as I can.”



Will nodded. Christ. What had he been thinking? He hadn’t obviously. One mention of Lena and the rage had overtaken him completely. Then his eyes narrowed. “Why?”



“Why what?”



“Why help me?” He could count the number of people who’d ever volunteered to help him on one hand; in his experience, there was always a price.



Lynch paused in the doorway, eyeing the curious crowd that was beginning to form. Tiny lines feathered out from the corners of his eyes, and his dark brows drew together in a frown. “Three years ago Blade saved my life down in the sewers. I owe him. Consider this repayment.”



Will eyed the other man’s tense shoulders. “And?”



Lynch stroked his smooth jaw. “There is…a certain amount of pressure coming from the Council. I need to locate a revolutionary by the name of Mercury. He leads the humanist movement here in London and he’s directly responsible for the firing of the draining factories. I’m not a fool, Carver. Blade has ears in places I could never reach.” A direct look into Will’s eyes. “And so do you. I could smell your scent in the tunnels when we arrested the pair responsible for the draining factories.”



“We had naught to do with that.”



“I know. The pair told us everything. They thought they’d killed Blade.”



“Only stuck him a bit.” No need to spread word that Blade was fallible. His legend had kept the Echelon at bay for fifty years. “You want word o’ Mercury then?”



“Anything you know.”



A chill feathered down his spine. Lynch was desperate. He could smell the edge on him. No doubt the Council was tightening the noose around his throat. Everybody knew that the Nighthawks were comprised of rogue blue bloods—those created illegally or accidentally. Most rogues were killed when they first became infected with the craving. Those that could control themselves were offered another choice: a grim, solitary life as a Nighthawk, kept on the leash of the Council. They were useful to the Echelon, but they would never be a part of them.



Expendable.



Especially if they didn’t perform.



The image of that coded letter he’d found on Lena sprang to mind. If there was any way she could be connected to the humanists, to this Mercury… The fear grew, gnawing at his gut. What had she gotten herself involved in? First Colchester and now this.



“I’ll keep me eyes open,” he said, aware that Lynch was watching him intently. “Anythin’ I hear I’ll pass along.”



Lynch searched his gaze. “I wouldn’t cross me on this, Carver. If there’s anything you know—anything at all—you’d best tell me.”



Will nodded. The Nighthawk had picked up on the tension in his body no doubt. “Aye. I’ll send word if I hear anythin’.”



First he had to figure out exactly what was going on.



Fourteen



A cool breeze whispered over her skin. Lena looked up from the mess of cogs and gears that covered her small writing desk. Slipping the magnifying glassicals up on top of her head, she put aside her fine pliers and stood. Her nightrobe tumbled around her bare feet, the rose-colored silk caressing her shins.



“Hello?” she called, tugging her robe tight and retying the sash. It was almost midnight. Mrs. Wade had retired hours ago, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. Too many things whirling through her mind. She’d decided she might as well use the time to work on the life-size transformational Mercury wanted her to create. Clockworks were easy and they always fit together… Unlike her life. Besides, she had only a week until the treaty’s official signing. She’d started the clockwork interior of the piece, but a week was barely time enough to finish it. She’d have to use Mandeville’s help for the outer casing.



The door between the sitting room and her bedchamber wheezed, stirring in a breeze that shouldn’t have been there. Lena snatched up the poker.



Her heart pounded in her chest as she crept toward the door. Nobody would dare attack her here, would they? The place was well-guarded, even at night, as it wasn’t unknown for assassinations to occur in the Echelon. The Duke of Caine was frequently indisposed, and Leo ruled as acting head of the House. No doubt a half-dozen minor offshoots of the House were starting to grow ambitious.



Thunder rumbled in the distance.



The soft glow of a turned-down gas lamp barely lit the shadowed bedroom beyond the door. For a moment Lena was half tempted to wake the household. But if the latch had merely blown open, she’d have woken them for naught.



Her eyes darted around the room as she slipped through the door. Soft gauzy curtains floated in the wind, rain spattering the polished floors. One of the French doors to her balcony had become unlatched, but there was no sign of anyone in the room.



“Damned wind.”



Pressing the door shut, she latched it tightly. Lightning flashed and suddenly the floor creaked behind her.



A scream tore from her throat, captured by a man’s large hand. He yanked her back against his hard chest and water from his clothes saturated the back of her. Her lips pressed wetly into his hand and his warm breath brushed against her ear.



“Shhh.”



Will. She could smell his scent now, of musk and rain and fresh air. The poker fell from her nerveless fingers. He caught it with his boot before it hit the floor, then eased it onto the rug.



Lena’s heart hammered along at a clipping pace. Her feet ceased drumming against his ankles and she slumped in his grip, her breasts pressing against his forearm. In the corner, movement caught her eye. A freestanding cheval mirror, showing the pair of them locked together in an illicit embrace. Lena’s eyes widened as they met his. He was huge and wet and brooding, the amber spark of his eyes flaring in warning. Spoiling for a fight by the look of him.



Her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t the only one who wanted an argument. This was going to be the last time he frightened her.



She bit the fleshy pad of his palm.



“If I let you go are you goin’ to behave?”



Lena wriggled furiously.



“I’ll assume that means ‘no.’” Hauling her toward the bed, he tossed her on it. Before she could even bounce, he’d whipped a silk scarf off the floor and gagged her with it.



Lena’s eyes widened further and she kicked at him, making a strangled sound behind the scarf. Will pinned her, his hands driving her wrists into the bed and his legs straddling hers. The nightgown rucked up around her thighs in the struggle and she stilled as his gaze dropped. There was a world of heat in that look.



“Truce?”



Lena nodded warily. As he sat back, kneeling over her, she reached up and tugged the scarf out of her mouth.



“What the devil are you doing here?”



He clapped a hand over her mouth. “If Barrons finds me here, we’ll be contracted for marriage before we know it.” Their eyes met. “Neither of us wants that, do we?”



Her heart pounded uncertainly. Then she gave her head a vehement shake. She’d seen her sister’s happiness and good fortune. The only thing worse than a marriage made of duty would be one of unrequited feelings.



Will stared at her for a long moment, his expression hardening. His hand dropped from her mouth, trailing over her cheek before falling to his lap.



“He wouldn’t force a contract on us anyway,” she murmured. “Leo would probably pretend he’d never seen you here—after escorting you to the door and removing the trellis outside my window.”



“Wouldn’t stop me.” His fingers toyed with the sash of her robe. Then Will realized what he’d said. “If I wanted to get in.”



“Stop it.” Her hand clapped over his. His palm flattened against her abdomen, devilishly warm. “You’re taking entirely too many liberties.”



“Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.”



Something about his expression warned her. “What do you mean by that?”



A long silence. “Nothin’.”



She had the feeling he wasn’t talking about the kiss they’d shared. Lena shoved his hand away. “What do you want? What are you doing here anyway?”



Water slicked his hair against his head, dripping down the open collar of his throat. His gaze was hard and flat. He held up a piece of paper and with a start she realized it was the other piece of the letter he’d torn from her.



The last time she’d seen it she’d stuffed it up the chimney, behind a loose brick where she could take the time to try and decipher it.



“Lookin’ for the truth,” he said. “Since I ain’t likely to get it from you.”



“That’s mine.” Lena snatched at it but his grip was firm. They glared at each other. His shirt clung to his shoulders indecently; the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his leather waistcoat sculpted every muscle of his chest. A bead of water hovered in the dip of his lip, another sliding down his roughened cheek. God, she wanted to run her hands over his shoulders, to trace that droplet of water with her tongue.



To sink her hands into the wet mess of his hair and drag his mouth down. To hers.



Taking a deep breath, Lena shivered with unrequited longing. “What are you going to do with it? Decode it?”



“Aye.”



Lena licked her lips. “Perhaps it’s for the best.” She wanted to know what it said just as much as he did. “As long as you don’t breathe a word to anyone else about it.”



“Afraid Honoria will yell?”



“Afraid she’ll lock me in a convent.”



“Perhaps you ought to be.” The gold color of his eyes was molten.



Lena froze. He’d made it quite clear kissing her had been a mistake. And yet… Her nipples tightened under his burning gaze. The way he was looking at her was almost edible. This mood of his was unpredictable.



She had to get him out of here before she did something foolish.



“Is that everything you came for?” She let go of her end of the piece of paper. “You scared me half to death.”



Rain battered the windows as he knelt back onto his knees. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave.



“Will? Whatever this is, you could have waited ’til tomorrow.”



Will’s expression remained hooded. “You and I need to talk.”



“Not tonight. If anyone—”



“Tonight,” he growled, and another low peal of thunder rumbled through the room. “I give you enough chances. Tonight I’ve had enough. I want answers and you’re damned well goin’ to give ’em to me. All you’re goin’ to do is answer yes or no, do you understand?”



Lena nodded slowly. Will always kept his temper even and controlled. He didn’t dare let it loose. Tonight there was a wildness there that urged for caution.



“Do you know who Mercury is?”



Her breath caught. “I don’t… I’m not sure what—”



Will pressed a finger to her lips. “Yes. Or no. Do you know who Mercury is?”



Where had he heard that name? And why would he suspect her of a connection to it? She had to play this right, or who knew how he’d react? Lena nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”



He didn’t like that, she realized. A frown drew his eyebrows together. “Damn it, Lena. What the devil have you gotten yourself involved in?”



There was no way to answer that with a simple yes or no.



As if realizing her intentions, his eyes narrowed. “Do you have any involvement with the humanists? With Mercury?”