Chapter 23
One moment she was there. Warm in his arms. Her supple mouth angled under his, soft and succulent. And he felt his very soul ascending to the heights of heaven, every long-suppressed wish fulfilled, every desire within his grasp . . .
Only to suddenly find himself blinking stupidly down into the wrinkled, careworn face of his landlady, who was boo-hooing loudly as she gripped the front of his waistcoat.
Hold on a second. Had he dreamt the whole thing?
Had his mind cracked under the pressure of unfulfilled passion, creating a fantasy out of thin air?
But no. No, for Luna was still present. His dazed and confused eyes spotted her on the far side of the kitchen where she’d fled.
She stood with her back to him, her shoulders hunched, her hands up as though she might be covering her face.
She was shaking like a leaf, and Nigel vividly recalled how she’d trembled beneath his mouth.
Echoes of her delicate whimpers lingered in his ears, along with the memory of her yielding body responding to the pressure of his hands, molding against his torso—
“I don’t know who else to turn to!”
Nigel blinked hard as his landlady’s voice broke through the thudding in his pulse.
Forcing himself to look down again, he watched her rough, rosy little face come hazily back into focus, upturned to his and framed by the laces of her old-fashioned cap.
“Oh, Mr. Grimm!” she wailed. “There must be something you can do!”
“Mrs. erm, Goddard. Yes.” Nigel shook his head, struggling to remember her name, struggling to remember how his own voice functioned, to recall how lips were managed when they weren’t applied to the glorious purpose of kissing Luna Talbot. “You, erm, you seem distressed. Please, sit down and, erm—”
“Oh, no, there’s no time!” Mrs. Goddard’s plump little fists gripped the front of his waistcoat, and she shook him with all the might in her aged arms. “You’ve got to get down to the harbor! You’re the only one who can stop him!”
“Wait.” Nigel blinked again, his mouth opening and closing stupidly. “Wait, what are we talking about here?”
“It’s me son!” The old lady sobbed and buried her face in the front of Nigel’s waistcoat.
“He’s gone and thrown his lot in with them awful Brute Boys.
That bootlegger gang, you know, what everyone says deals in sorcerous goods?
My boy’s best mate, that wretched Rodney Rookshanks, was up at our house at supper, and he was telling my Tobias, he was, ‘It’s now or never, Tobe!
Tonight’s gonna be real money. This shipment’s gotta be moved, and the Big Man himself is gonna be there.
If you want in, I can get you in.’ Of course, I told that Rodney he was a disgrace to his mother’s name and he wouldn’t get any more pudding from me!
But when I sent him on his way, Tobias grabbed his hat and said he would go too.
I begged him not to, but he’s that stubborn, is that boy!
And now he’s gonna get himself mixed up with sorcerers down at the warehouse district and . . . and . . .”
Luna, still standing on the far side of the kitchen, whirled around abruptly. Her cheeks, all delicately flushed, drained suddenly of color. “Wait!” she cried softly. “Did you say the warehouse district, Mrs. Goddard?”
Nigel’s gaze locked on her. All other voices and concerns of the moment were mere clamor compared to his need to read her face, to study in her features whether or not he’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Whether or not he’d offended or hurt her in any way.
He’d felt her responding to him with all the passion he could possibly hope for, but then she’d pulled away so fast. Was it mere shyness at being caught inflagranti?
Or did she actually want to get away from him?
Gods above, he should have known better than to let his feelings get the better of him!
He’d meant to be so careful, so chaste, to do nothing that might frighten her.
But once he tasted her, once he felt her beating heart and the warm sweetness of her body in his arms then—
“Yes!” Mrs. Goddard cried shrilly, turning to Luna. “He’s heading down that way this very moment! Says he’ll be rich as blazes before the night’s over, but Oh! I just know my dear boy is going to get scooped up by the wardsmen. Or worse!”
Luna’s hand gripped the back of a kitchen chair, knuckles whitening. “I’m afraid you might be right, Mrs. Goddard,” she said and turned to Nigel, her dark eyes brilliant with fear. Fear of him? After what he’d just done to her? Or—
“Mr. Grimm!”
“What?”
“Ward said there was some big to-do happening down in the warehouse district tonight.”
The sound of Ward’s name struck Nigel’s awareness like a gong.
In the subsequent vibrations, he found his head filled suddenly with a clear and powerful image of Luna kissing the man earlier that very day.
Wrapped up in his arms in a passionate embrace, not unlike the one they’d just shared.
An unreasonable rage boiled in his gut, and knowing it was unreasonable didn’t make it any less unpleasant.
Swallowing hard, Nigel managed a rough, “Did he?”
Luna stared at him, her eyes owlishly large.
Then with a sharp intake of breath, she circled the table, took hold of Mrs. Goddard’s shoulders, and gently guided the old woman to the nearest chair, settling her into it.
The distraught landlady bent over, face buried in her hands, sobbing her heart out.
Luna patted her rounded back comfortingly before turning to Nigel.
With a quick dart of her hand, she latched hold of his wrist. Just that small touch was enough to send bolts of pure flame crackling through every inch of his body.
Nigel wanted to grab her and, ignoring Mrs. Goddard’s woebegone presence, drag her back against him, claim her mouth once more and—
Instead he found himself being pulled out of the kitchen and into the back passage. The moment the door shut behind them, Luna turned to him and hissed, “We’ve got to warn Tobias!”
Nigel stared down into her shadowed face. The thaumatic light bulb overhead was dark, and he couldn’t read her expression clearly by the dim light spilling in from the shop. “What are you talking about?” he asked, blinking down at her rather blankly.
“Mrs. Goddard’s son? Tobias? Remember him?”
“Yes, of course, I remember the blighter. As you might recall, I’ve rooted around inside his disreputable head.”
“Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Goddard was saying? He’s joined some gang and he’s going to be down in the warehouse district tonight! Ward said there was supposed to be some shipment of . . . of distilled Dire Matter, I believe it was.”
Nigel remembered. He’d overheard the entire conversation, after all. “If it’s distilled Dire Matter, you can bet there will be sorcerers there to oversee the transaction,” he said darkly. “They wouldn’t trust something like that to ordinaries.”
“So you’re saying this Brute Boys gang won’t be there after all?”
“Oh, they’ll be there. Sorcerers don’t like to do their own fetching and carrying.
They’ll need some manpower. But when they’re through with that manpower .
. .” His voice trailed away. He realized that what he was about to say probably wouldn’t be helpful in this particular moment.
Not with Luna already showing dangerous signs of heroism.
But, as usual, she was too sharp for her own good, too quick on the uptake. “What is it?” she demanded. “Something’s just occurred to you. Something not good.”
“Miss Talbot,” he said, using his calmest, most level tone, “come back to the kitchen. Mrs. Goddard would benefit from your presence, and—”
“Tell me!”
He glanced at her and away again, afraid the truth would be revealed in his expression. “It’s nothing.”
Her dark eyes studied him hard in the dim half-light. From the corner of his vision, he saw her mouth open in a little gasp as suspicion grew. “Mr. Grimm,” she said, “I need you to tell me honestly. What do sorcerers do with their manpower when they no longer need them?”
He turned his face away, analyzing the texture of peeling paint on the boiler room door. But it was no use. She’d already figured it out.
“They won’t want to leave witnesses behind.” Her voice was small, little more than a whisper. “Not for something like this. Not for distilled Dire Matter, which goes for millions on the black market.”
“Miss Talbot, we don’t know anything about these sorcerers or the kind of operation they run—”
Her hand left his wrist as she turned sharply and strode five quick paces up the passage. “We’ve got to warn them!”
Nigel was in motion before his brain had caught up with his body.
His hand lashed out, caught hold of her forearm, and dragged her roughly to a halt.
Luna whipped her head about, curls bouncing, fake diamonds glinting from overlarge shooting star earrings.
Her eyes were very round, staring up at him through the gloom.
“Neither of us can afford to get caught up in sorcerous business,” Nigel said sternly.
He kept his voice down, not wanting to be overheard by his landlady, but his tone was firm, nonetheless.
“I won’t risk getting involved in this mess.
Certainly not for the sake of that young blaggard.
If he lacks the intelligence necessary to stay away from bootlegging, that’s his problem. ”
“It’s Mrs. Goddard’s problem too!” Luna replied, shaking her head. “Don’t you care about her at least?”
It was the at least that bit deep. Did Luna truly see him as selfish and uncaring?
Just because he didn’t place particular value on the life and wellness of Tobias Goddard, of all people?
Nigel ground his teeth. “I hold Mrs. Goddard in high regard,” he said.
“She is a good landlady and a generous soul, worthy of esteem. But her son deserves to be smacked up the side of the head. Repeatedly.”