“Well, I...”
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Oh.”
Silas cleared his throat, wondering if he had truly lost his mind. “I believe you can repair this old favourite. I really do. So, I’m going to leave you to it. I encourage you to fix it, just the way you fixed things for Gen and her mama. I think you’re down here in the Undercroft for a reason, Thea. I’m not completely sure what it is, but I’d be prepared to wager a considerable sum that the Mistletoe machine plays a large role.”
“Oh,” she repeated, looking oddly confused.
He had to grin. “Are there other reasons you’re here? Maybe. Probably. And perhaps time will reveal them. But time is onething this machine doesn’t have, so...have at it. Make it work, Thea. Please.”
He saw her simple, oil-smudged blouse rise and fall as she took a deep breath. “I’ll make it work, Silas. Iwillmake it work.”
Her quiet and resolute vow seemed to echo around the cavern they were in, ringing against rock and bouncing off the assorted metal debris lying at their feet.
“Good girl.”
And then one of those moments when common sense flies out of the window smacked Silas upside the head. He leaned over, grabbed her chin, and kissed her. Thoroughly.
She froze for a moment and then, to his surprise, melted against him. Heat, a blast of heat fiercer than any the fiery Forge could produce, ripped through Silas’s body, and his arms clamped her tightly to his chest. Her lips parted, an invitation he couldn’t refuse, and for the next few moments the world vanished, to be replaced by the pounding rhythm of their heartbeats.
Finally, after what seemed like aeons, they drew apart.
Thea cleared her throat, lips reddened, cheeks flushing. “Um...” She lowered her gaze.
He stepped back and sucked in a lungful of air. “All right then.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the Mistletoe machine. “Have at it.” Hurrying away, he let himself relish her taste, which lingered on his tongue.
Now he’d gone and done it. That might have been a coggleblasted mistake of grandiose proportions, but he couldn’t deny that the urge to seize that kiss had been kicking at him almost from the moment they’d met.
He might have—and most likely had—destroyed any chance of finding favour in her eyes, but now he knew. He just knew.And somewhere, his goose was emerging from an oven, and it was fully cooked.
As he walked through the Forge, nodding at the friends he’d made, listening to the sounds that had orchestrated his life for more than five years, he wondered if he could bear to leave, to head up to the rarified elegance that was the uppermost level of Arcvale.
Until today, the thought of leaving had never, ever, crossed his mind.
But now he’d met Thea. He’d kissed Thea. And he wanted to do it again, many times, in many ways.
However, if he did, he knew it would have to lead to some very big changes.
Chapter Ten
Completely unaware of the interesting developments taking place in the Forge between Silas and Thea, Lyra Sinclair was as happy as she could be amongst the many books in the Gray library.
Silas was certainly an interesting man with a variety of his own interests, she had discovered. There were the expected manuals, of course,Travers’ Treatise on Cogs, Gears, & How to Make them Work, which was the definitive volume found on every Forge-worker’s shelf, along with a couple of technical dictionaries, a handbook on different greases, andAnnie’s Never-Fail Cures for Blisters, which made her chuckle.
Gen and Thim had found her, and Nelson had thoughtfully provided pencil and paper, so that the little girl could entertain herself by drawing images of her tickerkin.
The day passed smoothly and easily, which—for Lyra—was a rarity. And seeing Gen smiling and laughing? The best Christmas gift she could ever have asked for.
The last months had been difficult, to say the least, so these precious hours were a most welcome relief. She tried very hard to keep herself from wondering what would come next.
How easy it would be to get used to a home like this. Secure, warm, with the cleanest library in the Undercroft. Or at least it would be when she was done with it.
The scent of polish rose from every surface, and the gleaming shine made even Nelson blink.
“Mrs Sinclair,” he said as he peered around the door. “I can scarcely believe my eyes. You have worked wonders with this room.”
“I hope I didn’t disturb anything important,” she said, giving the last end table a thorough polish.
