She frowned. Another small detail that reminded her of Nathaniel.Stop it, Lenore. Many men prefer brandy over tea. You’re seeing a ghost in the guise of a bonekeeper.A beautiful bonekeeper with a sorcerer’s touch but not Nathaniel.
“Such burdensome thoughts. What are you thinking, Lenore?” He uttered her name with a priest’s reverence for the sacred.
“You’re not bothered by cold or rain. Do you hunger or thirst?”
He straightened away from the window. A bright moon plated one half of his body in silver light. “For food or water, no, though I can eat and drink if I wish. But I’m like any other man regarding certain things. I crave friendship, comrades...” He reached out to tug the edge of her scarf closer to her cheek. “Affection.” His voice was deep, soft, as was the half smile he offered her. “The dearly departed who speak tend to be a little repetitive, with limited topics of conversation.”
The scarf muffled Lenore’stut. “Trust me when I say the living can be just as afflicted by such character weakness. That or everyone who visits my aunt’s drawing room hasn’t yet realized they’re actually dead.”
His laughter warmed her far better than any coat. “And there you are, trapped in the drawing room with the walking dead until all the tea is gone.”
What a delight it was to laugh and tease with this man. Not since Nathaniel’s courtship of her had she been so enthralled.
“I shouldn’t be so harsh,” she admitted. “I’m certain the boredom was mutual. Many of them dreaded engaging me in conversation, terrified I’d rhapsodize over the efficiency of a Daimler engine design or how Sir Hugh Carver once again improved the impact shields on the ships. I, however, will restrain myself from falling into that trap tonight. I’ve no wish to lose my intrepid companion who can withstand the cold but possibly not the ennui of my company.”
Colin’s expression sobered. His fingers glided over her gloved hand where it rested on the ledge by the field glasses. “You have nothing to fear on that score, Lenore. Trust me.”
She laced her fingers with his, regretting the barrier of her glove between his skin and hers. Once more they stood only inches apart, the space between almost shimmering with tension. Lenore met his gaze, a Shakespearean dichotomy of dark and bright.
“Is a post on an airship what you thought it might be?” He spoke in tones reserved for lovers, as if the innocuous question was meant to be asked while he nuzzled her breasts or drew invisible murals on her bare belly with his fingertips.
He held her mesmerized. Only a blast of icy wind through the window cleared her head. She blinked but didn’t let go of his hand. “Yes and no,” she said, waving her free arm to indicate the wide sky. “This. This is beyond the ability of the most eloquent poet to adequately describe. Great men dreamed through the ages to fly like birds, and here we are above the world, counting falling stars.”
She gave a rueful shrug then. “Mostly, it’s like home. There’s tea to be made and supper to cook, laundry to wash, accounts to settle and beds to tuck in.” She winked at Colin. “The adventurous life of a cabin boy. Or girl if that better suits your sensibilities.”
“It’s how many captains started and rose through the ranks. You learn the ship’s language and her song until she becomes more familiar than the mother who bore you.”
There it is, she thought. A hint of the life before his transformation. “You speak as if this isn’t your first time on a ship.”
A wistful expression played across his elegant face. He tapped his chest. “Before I became this, I served aboard an airship.”
His admission didn’t surprise her. For a “guest” and observer, he moved with surprising ease and familiarity aboard theTerebellum, as if sailing high above the earth were an everyday thing. She still gazed at her surroundings in open-mouthed wonder, unspoiled by the drudgery of chores. “No wonder you seemed so at ease and unafraid of great heights or theTerebellum’smovements,” she said.
“Some things you don’t forget.”
She wanted to ask him more, but a flash of light caught her attention. She grabbed the field glasses and peered through the eyepieces. She passed the glasses to Colin and pointed to the light. “There. Do you see her?”
He looked through the glasses before returning them to her. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s theDanika, a Russian skyrunner. Likely on her way to the Redan.” He slipped behind her and tucked her gently against his body. “Now this,” he said, “is resoundingly improper.”
“I should strike you in outrage,” she agreed in a mild voice and leaned back against his tall frame. No coat or cloak, and still he radiated a delicious heat that seeped through her woolens to warm her from the inside out.
“And I should beg your pardon and release you,” he replied, his arm sliding around her waist until she stood snug in his embrace.
“We won’t do any of those things, will we?”
“I certainly hope not,” he whispered against her temple.
Were she not at her post, she’d turn in his arms and bring his head down to hers for a kiss.
They watched theDanikafor several moments, Lenore noting her flight pattern and that it vectored safely away from theTerebellum. Once more the sky curved empty around them except for the moon and stars and those they watched as well.
Were it up to Lenore, they’d stay like this for hours, silent, unmoving, content to relish each other’s nearness. Colin’s warmth, however, worked better than a sleeping tonic, and she fought off a warning yawn.
Colin’s blunt inquiry snapped her wide awake. “Why aren’t you married, Lenore?”
Had he pushed her head out the window for a bracing blast of icy wind, she doubted it would have worked any better at obliterating her somnolence. Lenore stood silent in his arms for a moment, remembering the surprise visit from a dignified marchioness with a kind face and sad eyes. The tea had been bitter that day, almost as bitter as the choice presented to her.
“You need not answer if you wish.” He was strong and lithe against her back, a literal pillar of strength.
