“She was the closest I’d come to staying with you.”
Her dark eyebrows pinched together. “What?”
“Ivy was like me. Born under the Horde. Given a sweeper’s arms instead of a hauler’s apparatus, but the same. And she left England when she could, but now she has arms of mechanical flesh.”
A frown creased her forehead. “I still don’t understand.”
“I wanted arms like that. I couldn’t afford them.” Salvaging was hardly a lucrative business, and the one man who could create flesh made out of metal fibers and nanoagents charged a small fortune for each limb. “But seeing those arms on Ivy made getting them seem more possible. And that made the possibility of coming back to you seem a little closer.”
“Why would you need those to come back to me?”
Anger and hurt dug into his heart, sharp and hard. “You asked me to hold you in my arms every night, Georgie. I had iron bars.”
And he’d never thought much of it until leaving England. Prosthetics were as common as noses there. But not around the North Sea—and he’d known that she hadn’t envisioned a man holding her in an iron cage.
Yet he’d promised. He hadn’t cared if it meant getting newer, better arms. That suited him. Making her happy suited him even more. He just hadn’t known it would take so long.
But Georgiana damn well shouldn’t pretend that she hadn’t asked him to do it.
Now she stared at him, her face absolutely still. After a long second, she whispered, “I did say that.”
“You did.”
“And that’s why you kept leaving?”
He gave a sharp nod. “I promised to make you happy.”
A wild little laugh burst from her and she sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching the pink dress to her chest. “You were hoping to earn enough for mechanical flesh.”
“Yes.” Because Thom hadn’t known that anyone could make prosthetics like he possessed now. Though not mechanical flesh, they were just as amazing in their own way.
“So you made their acquaintance in Port Fallow. And then?”
Thom hesitated. Her voice was strained. Her face had paled, but her eyes were bright, as if she held back tears.
“Georgie?”
She shook her head. “Staying or leaving isn’t so important now, Thom. How do you think the rumors began? Is there anything we can use as leverage against this man?”
Staying or leaving wasn’t important. For so long, it had been all that mattered. It didn’t now.
Thom pulled a chair from under the table and sat. “Ivy likes building things. I had experience diving. So about four months ago, Mad Machen sailed into Port Fallow’s harbor for a few weeks’ stay, and while she was there we made a trade. I’d tell her what I knew of diving in deeper waters, and she’d give me the first submersible she’d made. So we spent time together while she built a new one. But anything else?” He shook his head. “She’s a fine woman. But I haven’t had eyes for anyone but you, Georgie. And she doesn’t have eyes for anyone but Mad Machen.”
“For the pirate? But I thought he abducted her. Forced her to work on his ship.” Her green eyes hardened. “Forced her into his bed.”
“That’s what people say, but I asked her once if she wanted help getting away. She said no. And I never saw anything that made me think he’d hurt her.”
Instead, he knew exactly what the man felt when he looked at her. Thom was feeling the same now, looking at Georgiana. There was the woman he’d kill for, die for—and do both without a single regret.
“Truly?”
He nodded. “Considering what she’s capable of building, Georgie, she could have gotten away a long time ago. If she’d wanted to.”
Her expression thoughtful, Georgiana rose from the bed and hung up the pink dress. “He has a terrifying reputation.”
“And he’s earned it. He is a madman.”
“A dangerous man.” She joined him at the table, skirts swaying with each step, sweeping her flowery scent around them. “But you weren’t worried?”