present machinations, she made him alive. She excited him. And he wanted her still. Perfect. Bloody perfect.
Beside him, Talent nodded sagely as if he’d responded instead of remaining tight-lipped. “You look terrible at any rate. Pinched about the mouth. Remind me to add a bit of lavender to your shaving water. Soothes the nerves.”
Winston halted. “I believe I made it clear that you are not my valet. Nor,” he added, taking a step into Talent’s space, “is it your business to speculate about my personal discourse. Good or bad. I’m not Ian Ranulf who you can goad into a temper with your insolence.”
Talent did not so much as blink. “So this isn’t you in a temper?”
Winston held that insouciant gaze. “Pray you never see me in one.”
The man grinned. “I live among wolves. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me—” Talent yelped as he was slammed to the floor, his legs flying out from under him.
With a grin of his own, Winston pressed the end of his walking stick into the man’s chest as he bent over him. “You were saying?”
Talent eyed him, clearly considering brawling in the narrow passageway, but other passengers were approaching. Waiting until the horrified couple scrambled away from the undignified spectacle of a man sprawled upon the floor, Talent knocked aside the stick and leapt neatly to his feet. “Thought you were more of a ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ type, Inspector.”
“Depends on the fight.” Winston set his lapels back in order. “Rest assured, I can do battle with both.”
They stepped out onto the promenade deck. Fresh sea air hit Winston, and he drew in a deep breath. They walked on a ways. “Mrs. Lane claims a demon is on the boat with the sole intent to bedevil me.” It wasn’t easy for Winston to say, much less think.
“Bloody demons.” Talent’s mouth twisted. “If you ask me, it’s safer to slice their heads off and be done with them.”
“I find your cavalier attitude toward murder somewhat disturbing, Mr. Talent.”
“Oh do you? I suspect you’d be singing a different tune should one catch you,” Talent said darkly. “They like to play with their prey, you know.”
Lovely. “Are you saying there aren’t any demons worthy of redemption?”
“Not one who’d have Mrs. Lane rushing out to save your hide.”
It took a moment to find a calm tone. “This is all moot, as Mrs. Lane tells me this one cannot be beheaded.”
“Every supernatural can be destroyed from beheading.”
Winston did not like the speculation that resided in the younger man’s eyes, nor the itching fury that was mounting in his chest. The railing made a dull clang as he punched it with the side of his fist. “She cannot have exaggerated to—”
“Bring you to heel?” Talent supplied with a dry snort. “Who the bloody hell knows what a woman will say or do to get her way?” His expression darkened. “Look at Miss Chase. Suddenly she’s a bleating Regulator in training. Sneaking little…” He pushed a hard breath through his nose.
Winston faced Talent, and the breeze sent his hair scattering across his ruined cheek. “Do you want to be a Regulator?”
Talent scowled at the sea. “Would do a lot better than Chase.”
Fighting a smile, Winston kept his voice neutral. “I suspect you’d make a fine Regulator.” He tilted his head, and the fluttering strands whipped back. “Why not apply?”
Hot color washed over Talent’s broad cheeks. “You can’t apply,” he muttered. “You can only be invited. Doesn’t matter, I’ve better things to do with my time.”
Ah, there was the rub. Miss Chase had been invited, and Mr. Talent had not. Winston might have believed that was where their animosity stemmed, but he knew better. It was clearly older than that.
“Daisy works with the SOS now,” Winston said. “Why not ask her to press your suit?”
Talent’s gaze snapped back to him. “Oh, I well know it. Who do you think got Mary Chase in? It takes months, months to process a novice, and yet Chase is in, within, what, a week? Working with your wife?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Winston as his scowl grew. “I’d be asking yourself why, Lane. I know I am.”
This time, Winston stepped near, letting the blunt tip of Talent’s finger press into his chest. “If my wife has any secrets, they are hers to keep.” And mine to discover.
Talent’s mouth opened as if he would retort but then he froze, his nostrils flaring and his gaze growing flat. “I smell blood.”