Winterblaze - By Kristen Callihan Page 0,14

and the sandy scratch of disks over wood lifted and faded in the wind. Talent touched the brim of his hat and nodded to a pretty young lady who looked quite fetching in a white polonaise with sea blue ribbons. The golden-haired girl smiled coyly back, and Mary almost rolled her eyes. Yes, dear girl, engage with the devil. See how that works out for you.

Coattails fluttering in the breeze, Talent moved on, circling a massive smokestack and heading to the windward side of the ship. On cautious feet, she followed, her senses alert—

He slammed into her without warning, taking her back against the wooden hull of a lifeboat. The craft creaked in protest, but then he was against her, stilling it. His big hand covered her mouth. As though she would scream. The fool.

His accusing eyes narrowed. “Following me, Miss Chase? Might want to be a little less obvious about it.” He cocked his head. “Your scent is all over the wind.” He leaned in for a sniff. “Cinnamon and spices. And here I thought you were supposed to be a proficient spy.”

She merely stared back.

A smarmy snort left his lips. “What? Nothing to say?”

Oh, was she to talk with his brutish hand over her mouth?

Something in her expression must have conveyed this, for he let her go, stepping back two wide paces. She knew better than to believe the action was out of respect or even fear. No, he was simply giving himself enough space to fight should she attack. Mary almost laughed.

“Why are you here?” She wouldn’t bother with indignation; it would only please him.

Talent crossed his arms over his chest. “Now that’s my question, merrily.”

“Do not call me that.”

He laughed, if one could call the ugly sound a laugh. “What? Do you not flit through London, making certain everyone sees you as a merry bit of fluff?”

She hated him. Truly. Her spirit stretched along the walls of her flesh, yearning to escape and show this man how “frivolous” she could be. But she’d worked too hard to fail now.

“What I am is a Regulator in training.” Satisfaction rose at the flash of shock that went through Talent’s eyes. Mary moved closer to him. “While you are nothing more than The Ranulf’s valet. A common lickspittle who never leaves his master’s side. Until now. Which makes me wonder—”

He moved in a flash, crashing her back against the lifeboats with his body. His eyes shone a brilliant, violent green. “Do not…” He sucked in a breath through his bared teeth. “You will keep your sticky GIM fingers out of my business, Chase, or learn to regret it.”

She could have him begging in an instant. And the funny thing was, he had no idea. None of the others knew what a GIM could truly do. Calmed by the thought, she held his gaze. “What are you doing here, bounder?” When he didn’t move, she craned forward until their noses almost touched. “Whatever it is, think long and hard about getting in my way.” She was not going back to her old life. No matter what she had to do.

Poppy did not take Winston’s arm as they traversed the ship. In truth, he hadn’t offered, but kept a steady, yet silent, clip down the first class deck, which was surprisingly wide and fitted with reclining chairs that were nestled against the ship walls. Varnished teak boards shone golden in the noon light. Archer had given Winston use of the owner’s suite and all the trappings that went with it. It was a refined world that they had never been a part of as a couple. Poppy had lived it for a brief time and knew that Winston had too. But his family had cut him off because he’d insisted on being a detective. She wondered if he missed this life.

He set a brisk pace, knowing somehow it was what she craved. For a moment, she reveled in the simple feeling of walking with him. Often, when he had been on a particularly vexing case, they would take long walks through the city and talk his theories through. She’d loved those walks, loved being his sounding board. They were in the same business, after all, even if he never knew it. She too strove to weed out the dregs of society. And she felt the same stress and worry when she failed to hunt down the criminals of her world.

He had called her life a lie. And Poppy supposed it was

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