My Lady Quicksilver

He cracked his eyes open and stared at the shadow-wreathed figure on the other side of the pool. She knelt at the tiled edge, steam obscuring her face as she traced her fingers through the water.

His body screamed its awareness as Mercury smiled at him. Her eyes were covered, this time with a leather half mask that reminded him of Carnevale. Brass studs curled up one side in decoration and the thin gleam of her eyes watched him through the cat-slit eye holes.

“Why look,” she drawled huskily, “it’s me Lord Nighthawk…in the flesh.”

The double entendre stirred through his gut with hot fingers. Lynch lowered his hands slowly, relaxing his arms back on the edge of the pool. A muscle ticked in his jaw. She’d come here on purpose, no doubt to disarm him.

She would learn. He was never disarmed, never anything short of lethal and right now his temper was roused.

Barely eight feet of water separated them. He could cover that distance in a second, but from the way she edged onto the balls of her feet, she was expecting that. No doubt there were more than a few weapons hiding under that overwhelming brown coat.

And she wouldn’t have come here without reason. His curiosity was aroused.

Lynch forced his body to relax, though it was hard. Mrs. Marberry had destroyed him this afternoon and he could barely gather his thoughts—or his rampant lust—long enough to deal with the revolutionary. “You do realize there are over a hundred Nighthawks in this building?”

“And yet not one of them noticed me.” Her smile taunted him. “Not even you.” Pointing a forefinger at him, she made a shooting gesture that wasn’t lost on him.

His gaze hooded. “If you wanted me dead, I would be.” He’d give her that. “I just didn’t realize you wanted me naked.”

“All the better to seduce you, me lord.”

That made him laugh. “So you can overwhelm me again? I think not. I make mistakes, my dear, but only once and only rarely.”

“So I’m a mistake, am I?”

“I don’t precisely know what you are. But I will.” He let his own smile edge over his lips. “I never intended it to be difficult to get into the guild. Getting out is another matter.”

Mercury slowly unfolded herself, revealing dark red skirts hooked up just enough to reveal a flirtatious froth of petticoat and a bronze corset-style bodice that thrust her pale breasts high. The same brass studs that decorated her mask ran along a heavy belt that held her pistol and her dark hair curled over her shoulder. It wasn’t coincidence that her coat had fallen back, barely clinging to her pale shoulders.

His throat went dry. He’d never seen a woman dressed like that before. It was indecent. Scandalous. And he wanted her more than ever.

His dreams lately had been of another woman, but right now, temptation roared. His slender secretary who liked to drive him wild, or a woman he barely knew, his sweetest obsession?

“You’ll lemme go,” she said with a careless shrug. The coat slipped a fraction more, revealing her rounded shoulder. “The alternative’s the Echelon’s dungeons and I ain’t thinkin’ you want that.”

“What I want doesn’t always matter.”

“Don’t you ever give into your urges, me lord?”

“Rarely.”

“You should.” Another slow suggestive smile that sunk through his gut with iron-tipped claws. “Why don’t you come out of the water?” She kicked the toe of her boot through the surface, sending a shower of droplets toward him.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“I wouldn’t want to get meself wet.”

Lynch pushed away from the edge. He kept his eyes on her, not trusting her an inch. Steam curled around him as he stood, shaking off the water.

Mercury took a wary step back. “I’ll get your towel,” she said, dragging it off the hook it hung on. Turning, she held it out, staying a good five feet away from the water.

Lynch found the steps that led out of the bathing pool and ascended with cool disregard for his nakedness. Water sluiced down his skin, steam rising from his bare arms as he lifted his hands and raked his wet hair back. When he glanced at her, the little smile had died, replaced by something far more watchful.

He took his time, flicking off water droplets before holding his hand out. “The towel?”

A husky laugh greeted him. “Now, why would I want to do that?” Another slow, heated look that caressed his body. “Me lord Nighthawk, imagination does you no justice at all.”

“I would like to be able to say the same.” He stepped closer.

Her smile remained, but he sensed the coiling of muscle within her at his abrupt nearness. So she was not so certain of his intentions? Good.

“I’d like to indulge,” Mercury replied, her iron hand clenching in the toweling. “But I think we’d both prefer it if I kept me mask. Adds a little, what’s them Frenchies say? Jay nay say—”

“Je ne sais quoi.” A certain little indescribable something. An edge. For the first time, he had the impression that she was toying with him. She knew exactly what she meant to say. He frowned slightly. The cockney was distracting, which was precisely the point, he imagined.

Who was she? His hands ached to remove the mask, to reveal her identity to him. He could do it too, before she even knew he’d moved.

And then?

She was right. He liked the mask, the mystery. It drove him to distraction and yet he was not quite prepared to solve the puzzle of her identity. To do so would mean he had to act on it and reluctance sat heavily on his shoulders.

Lynch grabbed her hands where they clenched the towel and dragged them around his waist. The soft toweling brushed against his groin as Mercury landed flush against him, her sharp intake of breath telling him he’d succeeded in disarming her.

“Desire cuts both ways, my dear.”

She looked up, her corset pressed flush against his chest. The angle thrust her breasts into smooth globes he ached to touch. “So it does.”

Letting go of her hands, he drew the ends of the towel tight and tucked one edge into the other. Mercury’s hands trailed over his hips, her head lowering in curious exploration and Lynch suddenly understood her. Whatever had happened between them in the enclaves—whatever he thought he had lost—she had lost too.

“So what makes you think I won’t just hand you over to the Echelon?” he asked.

Her fingertip trailed down the smooth trail of hair beneath his navel, tangling in the dark strands. It brushed the edge of the towel and hooked against the fabric as she tugged, just gently enough to be suggestive. Lynch sucked in a sharp breath.

“I think you want me for yourself.”

“That’s a dangerous assumption to make considering where you are.” She seemed so certain he wouldn’t hurt her.

Could he? That shadowed gaze met his behind the mask. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he felt the connection as their gazes locked. It ran a hot hand through his body, wrapping tightly around his cock. His erection stirred against the toweling and Mercury noticed. She wet her lips, her finger sliding more securely behind the towel.

“Did I presume wrong?” The mask challenged him; he desperately wanted to see behind it.

And just as desperately did not. A hollow feeling pooled in his gut. Instinct. Whatever her secret was, a part of him didn’t want to know it.

Why? His expression turned hard. He’d learned to trust that instinct over the years, but what was it telling him?

“No,” he said softly. “You didn’t presume wrong.”

The air between them changed. Stillness radiated through her as if he’d surprised her. Lynch’s gaze dropped to her mouth. He knew he was going to do it. Call it madness or insanity, he couldn’t help himself.

One hand slid around the curve of her nape, cradling the stark line of her skull. The edge of a wig cut into