Mina Wentworth and the Invisible City Part 10

"All right." He looked up at Geordie. "I'm about to shove my hand under your a.s.s and press down on this seat. When I do, you get off, and you run with Anne through those doors, out of the ballroom. Understood?"

Out of breath, the boy only nodded.

"Scarsdale, you help them make it out."

The man downed his wine, tossed the gla.s.s through the door. "I'm not leaving you, captain."

"Get them out, then find a G.o.dd.a.m.n heavy pot to put on this seat."

"Well, I suppose I'll leave you for that."

"Anne, you get going." Rhys met Geordie's eyes. "Ready, then? You make certain you run."

When he nodded, Rhys gripped the seat, pushed down. The spring beneath it compressed slightly. "All right. Go. Go!"

The boy staggered when his feet hit the floor. Scarsdale swept him up, ran. Rhys grabbed the pedal, began turning, keeping the same rhythm the boy had set.

He waited, listening to the clicking discs as they gathered their electrostatic charge. He slowed the pedals; the clicking didn't immediately slow. Once those big discs gathered momentum, it took a few seconds for them to wind down.

A few seconds was all that he would need.

A crowd began to gather outside the doors, watching him crouch, watching him spin. A few cried out his name in dismay. They must have seen Geordie and Anne run out, realized that he'd taken the boy's place. Rhys let them look, let them cry. They'd be running away again soon enough.

Three minutes later, Scarsdale hauled in a wine cask. "I found the cheapest one. Still, seems a shame to waste it."

"There are more." He continued holding down the seat, moving his fingers to the edge while Scarsdale balanced the cask atop it. Rhys let the seat go, continued turning the pedal. They both waited.

They didn't explode.

"Well, then," Scarsdale said. "What now, captain? We take turns pedaling?"

"We run for the door."

"Not a very heroic exit."

Rhys shook his head and turned the pedal faster, faster. No reason not to give the disks a little more momentum. "I'm not a hero."

"You're sure as h.e.l.l not. But tell that to the boy out there." Scarsdale clapped him on his back. "How long will we have?"

"Just make it past the doors." The stone walls would do the rest.

"All right. Ready, then?"

Rhys rose from his crouch, gave the pedal a final hard turn. "Go!"

He pounded across the ballroom, Scarsdale alongside him. Ahead, the crowd began crying out, turning to run. Pulse racing, he tried to hear the slowing clicks over the noise. Click . . . click . . . Click.

"Down!" he shouted, and leapt for Scarsdale. He caught the man mid-stride, hit the floor with him, shielding his friend's body. The explosion almost knocked him over. Hot pain tore across his side. The ringing in his ears didn't deafen him half as much as the screams from outside.

Beside him, Scarsdale groaned. "You're the heaviest lout who ever lived."

True enough. Rhys sat up, looked at the destruction. h.e.l.l. There wouldn't be any dancing in here, but they'd already set up outside.

Anne raced in, stopped on a gasp. Her frantic gaze found Rhys. She threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck. The impact seemed to tear his side open again, but he didn't care. He held her tight.

"All right?" he asked.

"All right," she said, then drew back. Her brows pulled together in the fiercest expression he'd ever seen. "Don't ever do that again."

Rhys grinned. G.o.d, he loved this girl.

"Don't worry, Anne." Scarsdale's amused gaze fell to the blood pouring down Rhys's side. "After the inspector is done with him, he won't be able to."

Perhaps not. All that Rhys knew for certain was that Wilbur the Reacher was d.a.m.n lucky Mina didn't know about this.

Too easy. Sitting in a lorry with the engine idling, Wilbur the Reacher didn't hear the approaching balloon until they were almost on him. Frantically, he threw the valves closed. The lorry jerked forward with a great huff of smoke, rolling along the docks.

Mina sat forward in the rear seat, looking down over the side. Always busy, the docks were filled with carts and crates, laborers hauling on lines. The Reacher wouldn't be able to gain any speed-not that it mattered. He wouldn't be able to outrun the balloon.

"Bring me in closer, Newberry!"

The balloon sank lower, barely ten feet above the Reacher's lorry. A long, skeletal arm suddenly shot upward, almost caught their frame. Newberry shouted, hauled up.

"Avoid those arms, constable!" she shouted.

"It would have never occurred to me, sir!"

Mina grinned, drew her opium gun, and took aim. No good. The balloon frame wasn't steady enough, and the Reacher was weaving all over, avoiding the obstacles on the docks.

"Closer, Newberry!"

"Trying, sir!"

The two-seater dipped lower again, just above the bed of the lorry. The Reacher's broad back made a big target. Mina leaned over the side, fired.

The dart sank into the Reacher's shoulder. He slumped over. The lorry kept going-straight to the edge of the docks.

Oh, blast. Mina scrambled up, threw her leg over the side of the frame, cursing as her skirts caught on the edge. "Hold steady, constable!"

Worry filled Newberry's shout. "Sir?"

She leapt. Fabric ripped. The lorry rushed up to meet her, and she landed heavily, sprawled in the bed. Scrambling to her feet-one slipper lost, d.a.m.n it-she climbed into the driver's bench, hauled back the drive lever. Gears shrieked. Instead of stopping, the lorry's engine whined and the vehicle accelerated. Smoking h.e.l.ls. She shoved the lever forward. Nothing. Where were the valves?

Above, Newberry was shouting something. She couldn't make it out over the rumbling and huffing. Dockworkers were shouting, too, sprinting out of the way. She looked up, calculated the distance to the water. Too close-and she couldn't swim.

Grabbing the Reacher's shoulders, she dove off the side. She hit the boards hard, the breath smashing out of her. Shot full of opium, the Reacher probably wouldn't even feel it. Lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

With a great splash, the lorry drove off into the water. She lifted her head to watch. Steam boiled up with a hiss, then a gurgle as it sank under.

Newberry set the balloon down. He rushed to her. "Inspector?"

Mina sat up. "I'm fine, constable."

"Yes, sir." He stopped, blushed a fiery red. He averted his gaze. "Your skirts, sir."

Oh, she'd forgotten about the rip. Had she shown her a.s.s all over the docks? That would make for an astonishing headline in the newssheets. Mina glanced down.

The hem had torn, exposing her ankle.

With a laugh, she got to her feet. She nudged the unconscious Wilbur the Reacher with her toe. "Let's get him back to the ball."

But there was no need, Mina quickly learned. Geordie stood beside Anne and Rhys when Newberry set the two-seater on the lawn. Beneath the tents, dancers twirled to music. Laughter floated across the gardens.

Mina hopped from the two-seater, turned to Newberry. "Will you take the Reacher to the lockup at the Anglesey station, constable? It should only be five or six minutes by balloon."

"I will, sir."

"Hurry back, then. I'm sure your wife would like a dance."

"Thank you, sir."

She stepped away from the balloon and gave him room to lift into the air again, then turned to Rhys. "I want to tell you, before you read it in the newssheets-I was never scandalously unclothed, and it wasn't that dangerous. I did jump from a two-seater onto a moving lorry, and I did jump from the lorry before it took a dunking, but you can see that I am quite unharmed aside from a few bruises and sc.r.a.pes."

He didn't take her word for it, but moved in and slipped his hands over her arms, down her back-and she supposed that with her hair a mess, her dress torn, and her slipper missing, he had reason to doubt it.

She reached up, touched his jaw, hardened with tension. "Do you see?" she said softly. "Perfectly all right."

"Yes," he said gruffly.

She glanced past him to where Geordie stood with Anne. "And so the Blacksmith arrived?"

"No." He pressed a kiss into her palm. "I took care of it."

"How?" Had Anne found a flaw in the design after she'd left?

"Go see," he said, his eyes on hers. "And then I will meet you in the library."

Where he'd s.h.a.g her. Heat coiled through Mina's stomach. And even though it was the middle of a ball, why not? Looking at her, no one would be able to tell the difference. She was already mussed.

"All right." She looked to Anne. "Will you walk with me to the ballroom? I'd like to hear exactly what happened . . . and whether 'taking care of it' came from one of your ideas."

A mischievous grin lit the girl's face. "It didn't."

"Well, then." Mina took her hand. "Show me."

Mina burst through the library doors five minutes later, heart pounding. Rhys sat waiting at the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest. Oh, but he was all right. She'd already known-she'd seen him-but now she had to see again, to make certain.

She stalked across the room, her gaze searching his face, his eyes, down . . . was he sitting just a little stiffly? Was that a different jacket? Stopping in front of him, she lifted her hands to his face, desperate to know, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," he said, but it wasn't enough. She stripped off his jacket, lifted the edge of his shirt. A raw red streak across his side took her breath, squeezed her heart into nothing.

"Rhys," she whispered.

"It's all right," he said, catching her hands.

She rose up, caught his lips with hers. With a groan, he opened his mouth to her kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist, lifted her against him. That wasn't enough. She needed him inside her, needed to know he was all right, alive, hers. She shoved at his shoulders, pushed him back on the desk. She reached for the flap of his breeches, already stretched by the force of his erection.

"Now," she said against his lips. "Now."

There was no sheath. She didn't care. His hot length filled her, and after a long, endless moment she was riding him, riding until her name on his lips was a hoa.r.s.e cry, his control tenuous. She lifted and moved back, took him in her mouth, and didn't let up until he shook, shouted her name.

Then the desperation eased, and she crawled up and kissed him. His arms came around her, and his lips softened beneath hers, sweetening and lingering.

Her breath was still ragged when she lifted her head. "It seems you are not the only one who must become accustomed to fear. I had no idea that love could be so terrifying."

"It is. G.o.d, it is." His body shook with a laugh. With gentle fingers, he smoothed her hair from her face. His eyes never left hers. "I have many enemies, Mina. And I will make more. There will always be someone hoping to kill me-this is not even the first since we have been married."

What? "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to worry you," he said, and she could not stop her laugh. But she quieted when his expression darkened, his jaw set with determination. "But I swear to you now: When you come home to me, I will always be here waiting for you."

Her heart filled. Could she possibly ask for anything else?

No.

There was no one else in the ballroom. Mina did not care that one half of it still smoked. She did not care that the music from outside was hardly loud enough to guide them. She did not care that strangers kept looking in through the doors, and that her feet were bare, and her dress torn.

Rhys slid his hand around her waist, took her hand in his. She waited, but he did not start. He closed his eyes.

"I don't dare," he said. "Even if you wore shoes, I could not."

"Then this." Mina stepped onto his booted toes. "Or am I too heavy?"

His kiss was answer enough. His hand tightened on her waist, and then she was swept around, his strong body moving against hers. Oh, but she could become used to this.

"We will do this again next year," he said. "If anyone has cods enough to return."

Mina laughed. He sorely underestimated the fascination everyone held for him; the Wheel of Death would only strengthen that. "I think that next year we will not just have people coming out of mourning to attend, but coming back from the dead."

"Zombies?" He grinned when she shuddered. "We'll kill them together."