Of Silk and Steam
Page 28
Letting out a shaky breath, he pressed his lips to her forehead gently, feeling the tremble within her. Eight long years he’d wanted her, and now she was in his arms…but he still didn’t have her. And it was clear from her threat that she was trying to find some way to restore her control of this situation.
Did he dare trust her? She had to be wondering the same thing. So how could he demand she give her body over to him if he did not share some of his intent with her?
His gut clenched, but he forced the words out. “If you want the truth, Mina, you have in your hands information that could ruin me. You could cut at the Duke of Caine while you’re at it, but you’ll never bring your father back. You’ll never slake that empty hole inside yourself that you think vengeance will fill.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “All you’ll do is destroy me. Not him. Me.”
Those dark eyes lifted to his, widening in shock—and then uncertainty.
“Your choice,” he whispered. “I know you’re frightened of what’s happening between us, but in this…you have all the power.”
“You’re a fool,” she blurted out. “To tell me of this.”
“Maybe.” He was a fool. When it came to her, he was the worst kind, and damn him for it, but he couldn’t help himself. “Or maybe I think I know you, just a little. Maybe I’m the only one who’ll ever risk getting close enough to know all of you. You can either run from that or ruin me so that you feel safe, but I don’t think you want to.” He brushed that same thumb against her lip, his voice dropping. “But the choice is yours, in this and everything between us. I won’t deny that I want you, Mina, but you’re the one who’s going to have to take that step, and so I choose to trust you with this.”
With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from her face. Mina stared after him, her fingers brushing against her lips as though she still felt his touch.
Slipping the door open, he paused on the threshold. “You have nothing to fear from me. You never did.”
Then he closed the door behind him, leaving her to gather herself and hoping that he’d made the right decision.
* * *
Mina stared into the fireplace in her study, rolling the cut crystal glass against her lips and seeing nothing. She’d left the ball early, too shattered to stay and make pleasantries when inside she was boiling like a storm.
Choices.
Barrons had all but admitted he was a bastard, and she could pursue this if she wished. She had the ability to finally ruin the Duke of Caine—to bring down the man who’d had a hand in her father’s death.
And in doing so she’d destroy the only man who’d somehow managed to touch beneath her smooth, glossy surface. The only man with the strength of will to match hers. She wouldn’t deny that was part of the attraction. Standing in her gilded ivory tower, she was untouchable—except by Barrons. Nobody else dared try to scale her walls, and she’d thought once that she wished it that way.
I won’t deny that I want you, Mina… But the question was, what did he want from her? And could she afford to pay that price?
Damn him, why had he told her the truth? Why had he put this power into her hands, then walked away? She could destroy him; he had to know that.
She owed her father that much.
Didn’t she?
The fire slowly swam back into focus, hot flame licking brutally at wood. Mina stared at it for a moment longer, then turned to the desk with Gow’s incriminating file upon it. Her hands quivered a little as she flipped it open and stared at the photographs.
“Damn you,” she whispered, her decision made.
She didn’t look as she cast the entire file into the flames. She couldn’t. There went her vengeance, the final door closing on her past and leaving her with an uncertain future.
Instead she grabbed her cloak and made her way upstairs to change into something a little more comfortable for the night, something that nobody would ever recognize her in.
There was work to be done.
Eight
Sir Gideon Scott knew that something was bothering her. Head of the Humans First political party, he held a great deal of respect among his peers, though many of the Echelon’s blue bloods sneered at his politics. Once the son of a minor house, he’d carved out a name for himself with those same politics. The prince consort tolerated him because Scott worked as a pacifist between the strident human classes and the Echelon. Not for him the cry of war on the lips of nearly every humanist.
Not in public, at least.
Sir Gideon poured a generous finger of whiskey into a glass and waved a dash of blood over the top of it for her. His study was wallpapered in burgundy and cream, the scent of cheroots lingering with beeswax and rich leather. A man’s room, and one that frequently saw use as a base for the aspiring politicians who made up the party.
Taking the glass, Mina paced to the window and glanced out. “The prince consort’s going to raise the blood taxes,” she said finally. The draining factories which were used to collect and store the blood gathered in the taxes had all been struck hard by the humanists more than six months ago. Not those humanists under her orders, but others within the group who’d taken matters into their own hands. One of her direst frustrations was her lack of control. She could direct matters, pull strings, provide financial backing, but at heart, each man and woman associated with the cause had their own free will.
But was that not the very heart of the cause? To gain the human classes their freedom and revolutionize the Echelon?
Yes, but burning the draining factories had created a cycle of events she had been hoping to avoid. The loss of the facilities and blood storage created a vacuum that needed to be filled. The blood taxes would rise, and ultimately, the humans would suffer. If they dared raise their voices now, the prince consort would simply unleash the Trojan cavalry.
As a girl, she’d struggled with the weight of her humanity and the future mapped out for her: either a thrall or consort contract to a powerful lord, then a life of luxury under his protection. Hardly devastating, but for her it might as well have been a prison. She knew she’d have slowly wilted over the years in such a role, her eager mind shuttered and stunted by the lack of something more. Without a doubt, she knew she’d have ended up bitter. Most likely sinking her frustrations into the pursuit of fashion, spending countless pounds her patron provided for her and truly desiring none of it.
Did he dare trust her? She had to be wondering the same thing. So how could he demand she give her body over to him if he did not share some of his intent with her?
His gut clenched, but he forced the words out. “If you want the truth, Mina, you have in your hands information that could ruin me. You could cut at the Duke of Caine while you’re at it, but you’ll never bring your father back. You’ll never slake that empty hole inside yourself that you think vengeance will fill.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “All you’ll do is destroy me. Not him. Me.”
Those dark eyes lifted to his, widening in shock—and then uncertainty.
“Your choice,” he whispered. “I know you’re frightened of what’s happening between us, but in this…you have all the power.”
“You’re a fool,” she blurted out. “To tell me of this.”
“Maybe.” He was a fool. When it came to her, he was the worst kind, and damn him for it, but he couldn’t help himself. “Or maybe I think I know you, just a little. Maybe I’m the only one who’ll ever risk getting close enough to know all of you. You can either run from that or ruin me so that you feel safe, but I don’t think you want to.” He brushed that same thumb against her lip, his voice dropping. “But the choice is yours, in this and everything between us. I won’t deny that I want you, Mina, but you’re the one who’s going to have to take that step, and so I choose to trust you with this.”
With that, he took a step back, his hands dropping from her face. Mina stared after him, her fingers brushing against her lips as though she still felt his touch.
Slipping the door open, he paused on the threshold. “You have nothing to fear from me. You never did.”
Then he closed the door behind him, leaving her to gather herself and hoping that he’d made the right decision.
* * *
Mina stared into the fireplace in her study, rolling the cut crystal glass against her lips and seeing nothing. She’d left the ball early, too shattered to stay and make pleasantries when inside she was boiling like a storm.
Choices.
Barrons had all but admitted he was a bastard, and she could pursue this if she wished. She had the ability to finally ruin the Duke of Caine—to bring down the man who’d had a hand in her father’s death.
And in doing so she’d destroy the only man who’d somehow managed to touch beneath her smooth, glossy surface. The only man with the strength of will to match hers. She wouldn’t deny that was part of the attraction. Standing in her gilded ivory tower, she was untouchable—except by Barrons. Nobody else dared try to scale her walls, and she’d thought once that she wished it that way.
I won’t deny that I want you, Mina… But the question was, what did he want from her? And could she afford to pay that price?
Damn him, why had he told her the truth? Why had he put this power into her hands, then walked away? She could destroy him; he had to know that.
She owed her father that much.
Didn’t she?
The fire slowly swam back into focus, hot flame licking brutally at wood. Mina stared at it for a moment longer, then turned to the desk with Gow’s incriminating file upon it. Her hands quivered a little as she flipped it open and stared at the photographs.
“Damn you,” she whispered, her decision made.
She didn’t look as she cast the entire file into the flames. She couldn’t. There went her vengeance, the final door closing on her past and leaving her with an uncertain future.
Instead she grabbed her cloak and made her way upstairs to change into something a little more comfortable for the night, something that nobody would ever recognize her in.
There was work to be done.
Eight
Sir Gideon Scott knew that something was bothering her. Head of the Humans First political party, he held a great deal of respect among his peers, though many of the Echelon’s blue bloods sneered at his politics. Once the son of a minor house, he’d carved out a name for himself with those same politics. The prince consort tolerated him because Scott worked as a pacifist between the strident human classes and the Echelon. Not for him the cry of war on the lips of nearly every humanist.
Not in public, at least.
Sir Gideon poured a generous finger of whiskey into a glass and waved a dash of blood over the top of it for her. His study was wallpapered in burgundy and cream, the scent of cheroots lingering with beeswax and rich leather. A man’s room, and one that frequently saw use as a base for the aspiring politicians who made up the party.
Taking the glass, Mina paced to the window and glanced out. “The prince consort’s going to raise the blood taxes,” she said finally. The draining factories which were used to collect and store the blood gathered in the taxes had all been struck hard by the humanists more than six months ago. Not those humanists under her orders, but others within the group who’d taken matters into their own hands. One of her direst frustrations was her lack of control. She could direct matters, pull strings, provide financial backing, but at heart, each man and woman associated with the cause had their own free will.
But was that not the very heart of the cause? To gain the human classes their freedom and revolutionize the Echelon?
Yes, but burning the draining factories had created a cycle of events she had been hoping to avoid. The loss of the facilities and blood storage created a vacuum that needed to be filled. The blood taxes would rise, and ultimately, the humans would suffer. If they dared raise their voices now, the prince consort would simply unleash the Trojan cavalry.
As a girl, she’d struggled with the weight of her humanity and the future mapped out for her: either a thrall or consort contract to a powerful lord, then a life of luxury under his protection. Hardly devastating, but for her it might as well have been a prison. She knew she’d have slowly wilted over the years in such a role, her eager mind shuttered and stunted by the lack of something more. Without a doubt, she knew she’d have ended up bitter. Most likely sinking her frustrations into the pursuit of fashion, spending countless pounds her patron provided for her and truly desiring none of it.
