Daniel stood in the wheelhouse, pretending to read an instruction manual on Tesla lamp repair. One moment he had been ready to kill Nigel Crowe—who had clearly been harassing the good doctor—and the next, he’d had that same doctor in the cargo hold, showing off her skills and impressing him to no end. Intriguing him to no end.
He was as baffled as he’d ever been in his life.
He found her beautiful, surely, but she was so unlike any other women of his acquaintance that he was riveted, fascinated. She hunted large, deadly animals. She operated a thriving business. She commanded the respect of experts in her field. She was half his size and Crowe’s, yet between the two, he’d put his money behind her in a fight.
And when he’d come upon her and Crowe in the dark corridor, realized he was up to no good and that she had a hand at her side, likely ready to bury a knife in Crowe’s chest if he assaulted her, Daniel found he couldn’t even be angry that she’d lied to him about not having any more weapons.
He’d seen her wearing her ray gun and knife the first time they’d met, but today was different. Was that the reason he’d lost his head? Because the woman hadn’t only been wearing the accoutrements but also knew how to defend herself with them? He tipped his head, considering. Yes. Yes, that would be the cause. He didn’t know a man in the world who wouldn’t find that alluring. Unconventional? Absolutely. But the world was on the brink of a new century, and society evolved along with technology.
“Samson, do you know of many women who brandish weapons? Employ them with skill? It would be an attractive habit, I should think.”
His ’ton kept his attention on the weather pattern charts he had spread on a counter. “Your sister has a ray gun, sir.”
Daniel grimaced. “Never mind.”
Samson smiled. “Are you thinking of one woman in particular?”
“No. . . . Perhaps.”
“And you seem to be searching for validation of your attraction to women who are armed?”
“Not just any woman, I suppose,” he mumbled and wished he’d never broached the subject with a ’ton who comprehended entirely too much about human emotion and motivation.
“If I were a human, I presume I would find Dr. Cooper an attractive woman. Her features are symmetrical, her hair is a rich shade of brown that appears deep red in the sunlight, and she controls her physical body smoothly. She doesn’t stumble about even when the ship catches a good breeze.”
“Symmetrical features, nice hair, doesn’t stumble.” Daniel flipped another page in the manual, which, now that he looked closer, he realized was written in a series of numbers and characters he couldn’t decipher.
“I sense you are flummoxed, sir.”
“My life is extremely complicated these days. I do not need the distraction.”
“Therefore you expect to be impervious to attraction?”
“It would help.” He sighed and tossed the manual on the counter. “If we are caught, Crowe could see me imprisoned and tried. There is no room for mistakes on this trip, and yet it is chaos personified.” He frowned. “I haven’t time for . . . anything, really.”
“Perhaps you ought to have courted the woman from Bath your mother chose for you years ago. You would have hearth and home settled by now. No surprises, no complications.”
Daniel scowled at the ’ton. “I do not recall programming you to sound like my mother, and yet that was a remarkable imitation.”
“I promised to look after you.”
Daniel stared. “When? When did you promise my mother anything?”
“More specifically, I promised your grandmother when they visited the offices in London. I believe she might have mistaken me for a human friend.”
“Mmm. Her eyesight is fading.”
“Yes. I told her of a shop in London that specializes in a wide variety of vision issues and solutions. The right pair of spectacles may make all the difference for her.”
Daniel shook his head and crossed to the door, unsure of exactly when he’d fallen down the rabbit hole. He was inconveniently attracted to a woman he’d just met—a woman who had threatened him with exposure if he didn’t allow her passage on a restricted flight—and his ’ton had become his grandmother’s confidant. “I will be in the library should you need me.”
“Very good, sir. Shall I translate this manual you were attempting to read?”
“No, I don’t need it. All the Tesla lamps seem to be in working order. Trying to busy myself, I suppose.”
As Daniel left the wheelhouse, he heard Samson say, “I did wonder why you were attempting to read computation code.”
Nothing in the library caught Daniel’s interest, and for once he regretted having such a proficient ’ton. He supposed he should be grateful for the lack of drama, especially since having a government agent aboard determined to catch them all breaking the law was enough of a powder keg on its own. He had general business paperwork to tend to, but he couldn’t summon the interest to do it. He considered doing inventory checks on their food stores, but he’d done that before departure. All the ’tons were working properly, each working piece of the engine and the enormous propellers functioned beautifully. The small party enjoyed quite literal smooth sailing throughout the afternoon, and Daniel found himself pacing with no real destination in mind.
He made his way down to his cabin as the dinner hour approached, and freshened up. He heard the doctor moving around in the cabin next door. When he was ready, he knocked on the outer door of her cabin.
She opened the door and looked like the self-assured Dr. Cooper he’d first met. She was calm, no traces of her earlier irritation present. She’d dressed for dinner in a blouse, corset, and skirt, shoulders back, smile in place, and as she turned to lock the door, he noted the slight bump of her sheathed knife at her side.
He swallowed.
“Ready?” She started down the hallway but turned back when she reached the stairs. “Aren’t you coming to dinner?”
“Yes.” He stood rooted to the spot.
She paused with a foot on the bottom stair. “Is something amiss?”
He shook his head. “I realized I still haven’t returned your arsenal.”
She smiled and shrugged. “It can wait until after dinner.”
He nodded and covered the distance to her in a few strides. He placed a hand at her back, noting the stark contrast in their sizes. How on earth did a woman so small take down dangerous shifters and defend herself against real physical danger? An image of her knife sailing through the air in the cargo hold flashed through his mind, and he reasoned that was probably how she managed her profession. Skill, practice, study, and wits. Preparation, effective tools, and probably a bit of luck. His hand spanned her waist, and his thumb brushed against the sheathed knife at her side.
He gestured with his free hand. “After you, Dr. Cooper.”
She climbed the steps but said over her shoulder, “Watch the knife, Captain. I’d hate to have to pull it on you.”
He certainly hoped she wouldn’t. She’d likely find herself pushed up against the nearest wall and kissed senseless. At which point, she might slip the knife between his ribs, which, he reasoned, might not be such a bad way to end a life well-lived.
They crossed the upper deck, and when they neared the wardroom, she stopped him with a touch on his arm. “Captain Pickett, I apologize for my impatience earlier. I was rude when you were merely expressing concern for my safety.” She paused. “I am certainly not infallible, quite the contrary. I am, however, unconventional, and I realize it. I suppose . . .” She locked onto his eyes, her own a sea of green. “I work hard in a field largely populated by men, and not only must I be as good as they are, I must be better. If I fall short, make a mistake any of my contemporaries might make, I risk seeming incompetent.” She spread her hands. “So I find myself adept at throwing sharp weaponry and soothing agitated predators but sometimes lacking skill in conventional exchanges.”
Blast, but the woman was breathtaking. Hers was an unconventional beauty that grew more stunning, more interesting, with each conversation.
He realized he should probably say something. “These circumstances are unusual, Cooper,” he said in a clumsy attempt at comfort. “I imagine if I were facing your challenges, I might be short-tempered as well.”
“Captain! Dr. Cooper!” Alfred Quince’s balding head appeared as he climbed the stairs from the passenger cabins.
“Mr. Quince.” Daniel smiled. “I trust you enjoyed your day?”
“Indeed! Mr. Bonadea and I have created the framework with which to begin our study of Port Lucy. I have a renewed sense of hope that this next phase of my life will find its share of joys.”
Cooper’s features softened. “You’ve been apprehensive, Mr. Quince?” She took his arm and walked slowly with him into dinner.
Daniel looked after her, strangely irritated he’d been summarily dismissed when he should have been glad to have another person aboard who understood the danger his passengers faced. He was usually alone, utterly and completely, bearing the emotional burden of ferrying people to safety whose lives were at stake.
Bonadea and Lewis emerged next from the stairs, deep in discussion about advanced medical care for animals. Daniel followed them into the wardroom, and, as the clock struck the hour, he signaled the ’tons to begin serving. They were absent only one guest, and with any luck, Crowe’s appetite was sparse and he would stay away for the evening.
The passengers claimed their prior seats, something Daniel noticed each voyage. People were creatures of habit, of consistency. He wasn’t going to complain in the least this time since Cooper sat to his right. Quince and Bonadea had taken up an animated discussion on his left, and Lewis sat next to Isla with a murmured comment. Isla laughed and leaned toward the handsome medic and said something that must have been equally witty, because he chuckled and gifted her with a smile that showed his perfect, white teeth.
Daniel’s lips tightened. Samson would probably tell him that Adam Lewis was a visually appealing human, what with his even, symmetrical features, his head of thick blond hair, and his physical grace that Daniel had seen both in battle and once when the man had shifted during a full moon in India. Why such perfection bothered him now, he couldn’t imagine, especially as Lewis had always been a friend, someone whose company he enjoyed.
A ’ton served his food, and Daniel picked up his silverware, his attention still on the couple to his right who seemed content to laugh themselves into oblivion.
“Very well, then! We should say grace.” His loud pronouncement drew four pairs of eyes, and had he not been so irritated, he’d have laughed at the variety of expressions that ranged from surprise to bafflement.
Isla cleared her throat. “Of course. We must have forgotten last evening. And this morning.”
“And during teatime,” Quince offered.
Daniel knew a moment’s panic when he realized he would have to now pronounce a blessing on the meal, something he hadn’t done since childhood. “Would anyone care to do the honors?”
Four blank faces stared back at him, mute.
“I believe we should be most grateful for our captain to do so,” Bonadea said.
“Very well,” Daniel muttered.
They each bowed their heads, glancing around at both him and each other. He opened his mouth to begin when Quince sat up straight in his chair. “We ought to join hands!”
The others looked at him, and after a lengthy pause, Dr. Cooper nodded. “Of course we should.” She smiled at Quince and extended her arms to either side.
Daniel supposed he should be grateful he had an excuse to touch her, but Lewis clasped her right hand, and Daniel felt his nostrils flare. He grabbed her left hand and reached for Quince’s, knowing he had only himself to blame for the extreme awkwardness that enveloped the room.
The situation was made more bizarre as Lewis had to stretch across the table to reach Bonadea, who was forced to rise up in his seat to join hands. Dr. Cooper bowed her head, signaling the others, and Daniel stared at the tableau, wondering what had possessed him.
Cooper gave him a side-glance, eyes wide and one brow lifted. She deliberately squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head again.
He took a deep breath. “Thank you for the food we eat, thank you for the world so sweet, thank you for the birds that sing, thank you, God, for everything.”
They each looked up, mouths slack, still clasping hands.
“Amen,” he said firmly.
“Amen!” Cooper and Quince echoed. The other two mumbled their endorsement, and they all released hands.
“What a heartwarming scene.” Crowe stood at the door, smiling. “I am sorry to have missed it.” He took his place at the foot of the table, and a ’ton bustled to serve his plate.
Daniel thought he might have heard Quince whisper something about Satan, but it was drowned out by the clinking of silverware and renewed conversation, which started up again like a Victrola that had had its power cut abruptly with the needle still in the middle of the vinyl disc.
“I must say, Captain, I find your sudden show of spiritualism surprising,” Quince said.
“As do I,” Lewis drawled.
“Oh, but refreshing,” Quince hastened to add. “The world could use more of it, I say.”
“Indeed.” Crowe snapped his napkin into place. “Heathens are quite overrunning it.”
“Agreed,” Bonadea said flatly and glanced at Crowe before turning his attention to Cooper. “Now, then, Dr. Cooper, suppose you tell us about your family. I’ve not heard much, other than your mother is the proprietress of Castles’.”
“Is she?” Lewis looked at her in surprise. “It seems you come from a well-accomplished family.”
Cooper smiled. “Thank you, and yes, Mr. Bonadea. My father passed when I was ten years old, leaving my mother, my younger sister, and me alone. He had not been a man of means, so my mother and aunt, who was also widowed, established Castles’ Boutique out of necessity. It has flourished, and we are grateful.”
“Oh my, I should say!” Quince beamed at her. “My daughters and granddaughters are always in fits of ecstasy after returning from an excursion to Castles’. Your mother is to be commended.”
“Thank you, Mr. Quince. She has indeed put all of herself into the boutique. Very determined from the start.”
“I imagine such a venture must have consumed all of her time.” Crowe watched her as he took another bite.
She glanced at him, and Daniel noted her fingers tightening on her fork.
“Who cared for you and your sister, then, I wonder?” Crowe continued.
Cooper took her time cutting a small piece of beef into smaller squares, and Daniel wondered what kind of damage she could do to the meat with her throwing stars. “I did—but we were part of a close neighborhood.” She looked at Crowe, her expression hard, even in profile.
Daniel wondered how deeply the man would dig a hole for himself.
“A pity she never remarried.” Crowe affected an expression of sympathy. “Set a rather odd example for you, no? Certainly explains your own unique choices.”
Cooper smiled. “I suppose when my father died, she could have stood outside the house with a large placard, advertising the vacant position.”
Crowe smiled, and Lewis raised a brow, glancing at Daniel as if he, too, realized Crowe was venturing into dangerous waters. The man was not obtuse—anything but. He baited the doctor deliberately.
Bonadea cleared his throat. “Your mother must be a remarkable person. And her sister, as well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bonadea. And Mr. Crowe, you’ll be pleased to hear that my aunt did remarry. A man with five daughters, each more delightful than the last. Mr. O’Shea has been a boon to our family.”
There was an edge to her voice, and Daniel guessed Mr. O’Shea had been anything but a boon to the family.
“And have you any other relatives in London?” Lewis asked.
Isla nodded, this time her smile was genuine, less forced. “Emmeline, my aunt’s daughter. Two years my junior, and I quite adore her.”
Crowe’s knife clattered against his plate, and he hastily retrieved it. “Emmeline O’Shea is your cousin?”