His Clockwork Canary

Willie blinked. Why would he lie? True, they’d never been excessively close, but why would her own brother, her Freak brother, betray her? She could not imagine. “I don’t believe you.”

Simon studied her hard, causing her skin to itch with unease. “What, pray tell, did I ever do to earn your mistrust?” He pushed off the bed, angry now. “You’re the one who lied to me.”

Though weak and stiff, Willie at least pushed up into a sitting position. She did not want to have this discussion whilst flat on her back. If she could stand, she would. But just swinging her legs over the edge of the mattress was an effort. “I wanted to tell you, but . . . the deeper I fell for you, the more I feared you would reject me.”

“Based on your race?” His expression hardened as he stuffed his shirttails into his trousers.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t. You agreed to marry me. Did you really think you could hide your race from me for the rest of our lives?”

“Aye! I did! I’ve fooled the world for ten blasted years. Why not a lifetime? Other than my eyes, which I can camouflage with tinted corneatacts, and my time-tracing abilities, which I can control, there is nothing to differentiate me from any other Vic.”

“Except for your blood.”

“Oh, aye,” she muttered, irritated by her oversight. “There is that.”

Hands on hips, he glared down at her. “What if, in those brief torrid weeks that we were together, something had happened to you? Some hideous accident that required my rushing you to a doctor? And what if that doctor had treated you as a Vic, tainting you with a blood transfusion? You could have died. Thank God, you finally confessed your race in the catacombs—otherwise, three days ago, that exact scenario would have played out!”

“Are you saying I required a transfusion?” Using her good arm, Willie untied the strings of her long nightshirt and peeked inside. “So you took me to a skytown?” she asked, noting the bandages applied to the right side of her upper chest, shoulder, and arm. She remembered nothing of a treatment. She remembered nothing at all of the past few days.

“There was no time to arrange for air transport to a skytown.”

Her pulse stuttered. “I warned you not to take me to a conventional hospital. Was there a ruckus? Did they refuse to treat me and then relent? Where did they find Freak blood? I can’t imagine they had a supply on hand.”

“I brought you back here,” Simon said. “The physician came to me. A Freak physician. Her skills were quite remarkable, although she did warn that it would be some time before you retained full use of your right arm.”

Instead of wondering how in the universe she was going to write her stories with a bum arm, Willie homed in on the curious doctor. “You located a physician who was not only a Freak but a woman? Does she practice openly? How can that be? Freaks are denied the right to pursue such positions.”

“Which explains your determination to masquerade as a young Vic man. The ruse afforded you the opportunity to flourish as a journalist for a major newspaper. But it does not explain why you failed to confide in me, the man you professed to love, twelve years ago. Or at the very least when we initiated this quest!”

Willie’s temper flared. “I told you, I thought you would reject me. I was young and impressionable and my parents constantly warned me off mixing with Vics. You are not a persecuted minority. You are free to work where you will and to marry whom you wish. I am not!” Incensed now, she shot to her feet. Unfortunately, her noodly legs crumpled.

Simon caught her in his arms, held her close. “Too much, too soon. The doctor warned me.”

Willie looked up at him, her heart in her throat, tears in her eyes. “I explained in the letter that my parents learned of our plans and that they were taking me away. They reminded me that Freaks are forbidden to wed Vics. The marriage would be illegal, and you would be shunned by polite society. Daddy cautioned I could ruin your life, your career. Mother preached that if you knew I was a Freak, you would forsake me. Deep down, I did not believe that part. In the letter I confessed my race and asked you to meet me in a month’s time at Gretna Green if you truly loved me.” Her chest ached with the betrayal. “I stole away that day, made the journey on my own. I waited two days, but you never showed.”

Simon closed his eyes briefly and cursed. “I never saw that letter, Mina.”

What had her parents and Wesley done? All these years she’d thought Simon had jilted her, when in truth they’d finessed it so that she had jilted him. In chagrin and heartbreak, a river of tears flowed.

“Ah, Christ. Don’t cry. Don’t . . .” Simon cupped the back of her head, then lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was tender, comforting, and, oh, so magically wondrous. Misunderstanding her moan of delight for one of discomfort, he broke off all too soon and lowered her onto the bed. “I’m going to step out to get you a warm meal. When I return, you can fill me in on the exact skills of a Time Tracer, and then we will formulate a plan for tracking that damned Houdinian.”

Poleaxed, Willie gaped as Simon pulled on his coat. “Knowing who I am, what I am . . . you still want to work with me?”

Simon paused on the threshold, stealing her breath with his intensity. “Oh, I want much more than that, Canary.”

•   •   •

Simon placed a special order with the inn’s cook for his sick “friend”; then he stepped out onto the sidewalk, welcoming a gust of frigid wind. Never had he been so aroused by a simple kiss! A damned chaste kiss by his standards. One meant to comfort. Instead, Wilhelmina had moaned, a soft husky moan that betrayed her pleasure. Raging lust had steeled his shaft, warring and meshing with stirring compassion. Laying her on the bed, seeing her stark black hair fall away from her now naturally pale face, he’d ached to rid her of that nightshirt and to caress her every curve. He longed to make her damaged body soar. To incite pleasure that would override any pain. Simon had watched her suffer, and although he still had issues with their past as well as her recent journalistic antics, his guilt regarding her injury trumped all else. Severe muscle and nerve damage, Dr. Caro had said. What if the Canary’s ability to pen or type her tales had been forever compromised as a result of her pushing Simon out of harm’s way?

In addition to that troubling scenario, he was also now saddled with the knowledge that her family had conspired to keep them apart. If only her brother had delivered that damned letter. Simon would not have waited an entire month. Impetuous and madly in love, he would have tracked down Mina and whisked her away. Learning she was a Freak would not have diminished his love. Although . . . if such an alliance would have truly hindered his career, perhaps he would have hesitated. He could not imagine not being able to provide handsomely for his wife or lover.

Of course, if he won that jubilee prize, they could both thumb their noses at society and settle comfortably in a more tolerant or remote setting. The least he could do for Wilhelmina Goodenough in gratitude for saving his life was to ensure her well-being. He could protect and provide for her best by claiming her as his own. For once and for always. You and no other.

Daunting, but doable.

The biggest hurdle, he imagined, would be getting Wilhelmina to agree to the alliance. She had grown headstrong and independent over the years. Obstinate, even. And she was proud. She would not appreciate a proposal based on his gratitude and guilty conscience. He would have to be most calculated in his wording.

With that in mind, Simon poked his head into a sundry shop where he purchased a fragrant bar of soap, fresh bandages, and the latest issue of the Informer. He preferred to read more reputable broadsheets, but this was for Mina. Willie. What the devil should he call her?

Heading back toward the inn, Simon glanced at several window displays, thinking, once she’d convalesced, he’d have to take the Canary shopping for more feminine attire. He wasn’t keen on people mistaking his future wife for a bloke. As to her race, or rather the restrictions and prejudices regarding Freaks, he’d have to ponder that vexing problem at greater length.