Her breath quickened at the teasing stir of his touch. “Do you want me to be one?”
“No.” He slid his hand over her nape and spun her around, pressing her hands against the column. She tensed, then stilled as he smoothed the long, dark tail of her hair out of the way and pressed his open mouth against the back of her neck. Suckling hard, he brought the blood to the surface in a red bruise then nipped at the damning mark. Mercury shivered, a soft little gasp of surrender crossing her lips, and Lynch smiled.
He ran his lips down the soft curve of her shoulder, biting her just enough to leave a mark, then soothing the sting with his tongue. Slowly his hands slid up beneath her coat, tracing the curve of the corset she wore. The feel of it stirred desire through him and he pressed his hips against her bottom, letting her know just how much he wanted her.
Mercury sucked in a sharp breath, half turning. “Me lord—”
He caught her hands and shoved them against the column. “Don’t let go.” Then his hands were cupping her breasts, holding the plump weight in his palms.
Mercury’s head tilted back with a groan. “Mercy,” she moaned. “We need to speak.”
“Do we?” He edged the lip of the corset down and her nipple sprang free, hard and tight. Sliding his other hand against her abdomen, he drew her hips back against him, rolling the turgid peak of her nipple between his fingers. “I thought you came here for this?”
Mercury arched into him, her head falling forward with a helpless gasp. He could feel the surrender in her body and the shaking in her knees.
“No. Yes.” She shook her head and moaned. “You want to know who blew up the tower?”
Lynch’s hand tightened on her hip. The words cut through him like a knife. To hide it, he pressed a kiss against the tender skin below her ear and was rewarded with another shiver. She liked this. “You still claim you didn’t do it?”
“Nor did I burn the draining factories.” Her hand splayed over the column, her iron fingers flexing unconsciously. The other hand slid between them, wrapping around his growing erection. “A year ago,” she gasped, “I set a group o’ mechs free o’ the enclaves. They wanted vengeance and I…I needed ’em for somewhat.”
His lashes lowered and he thrust into the grip of her palm.
“There were a power struggle. They broke from me leadership and burned the factories. I were tryin’ to stop ’em when they ’it the Tower.”
“Why?” he asked. Her tight fist made the vein in his temple throb but he could contain the fierce need now. Her clever ministrations had seen to that. She, however, was not so satisfied. “That explosion nearly killed half the blue bloods of the court. I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Personal reasons,” she replied, tilting her head to the side to glance back over her shoulder. “And it didn’t succeed, did it? Now I’ve got every blasted Coldrush Guard and Nighthawk on me trail. You think I wanted that?”
“I think you’re in a lot of danger.”
She laughed under her breath, an almost sad sound. “I chose this path. I knew the risks.”
His lips thinned. Damn her, but he was starting to soften toward her. Was she telling the truth? “Give yourself up,” he said, edging his hand down her abdomen, “and I’ll demand a lenient sentence.”
The stiffness in her body was almost anticipatory. Tension radiated through her and she dragged her iron hand to his, urging it lower. “You can’t make the prince consort do anythin’ ’e don’t wanna.”
“There are ways to play the game,” he replied, his fingers sliding between the heat of her legs, bunching up her skirts. “If you tell me everything you know about the mechs, I’m inclined to be lenient.”
She was tempted. Gasping hard, she pressed her lips to the column, her hips driving back into his groin as his fingers dipped into the wet heat between her thighs. She wasn’t wearing drawers. “Mordecai,” she gasped. “’Is name’s Mordecai. I don’t know where ’e is, but I do know this: ’e’s got somethin’ to do with the massacres in the Echelon. I seen ’im near the second crime scene.”
“How convenient that you were nearby,” he murmured, his mind racing. The mechs had something to do with the madness sweeping the Echelon? That meant it had to be a toxin or a poison. It was man-made and that meant he could catch them.
If she wasn’t lying.
Grabbing her wrists, he spun her around and shoved her against the marble column, holding her hands over her head.
Slowly his hands relaxed on hers, sliding down over the betraying pulse of her right wrist. “Tell me,” he demanded, “that you had nothing to do with the massacres. With Lord Arrondale’s death.”
Mercury pulled against his grip but didn’t fight him. “I ’ad nought to do wit’ it.”
Her pulse ticked through her wrist, as steady as before. She was telling the truth. Either that or she was such a good liar she could control her body’s reflexes.
“I believe you,” he said.
His thumb stroked the soft skin of her wrist. The other one was cool metal, woven so seamlessly into skin that he recognized it as a master-smith job. No wonder her reactions were so exquisite; metal hydraulics had been linked to flesh tendons, and muscle sewn to the thin fibrous sheeting of the interior of her gauntleted wrist. The limb worked almost as naturally as her right hand.
“You want me, don’t you?” she asked. “You’ve been chasin’ me for months.”
Lynch’s gaze hooded. He let her go, hands sliding down her arms. “I don’t need to chase you,” he whispered in his ear. “Because you’ll come back to me.”
“What do you mean?”
Lynch pushed away from the column and dragged the towel around his hips. “I won’t be played for a fool twice. But you…you’re burning for it.” He backed away, watching her shocked expression as she realized he had no intentions of finishing this.
“I thought I’d ’ave to fight me way free,” she whispered, her pupils dilated with desire.
He
Lynch took a step away. “Go via the south wing and wait until the clock tower chimes ten. The guards will be changing their shift.” He tucked the towel into itself, uncertain whether he was doing the right thing. A thought flashed into mind: if he couldn’t hand her over to the prince consort now, how was he going to do it in when the time came?
Mercury’s head. Or his.
“Go,” he said, before he changed his mind. “Get out of here.”
It was a long, slow climb to his rooms and he barely noticed any of it. Once he’d left the warm steamy chamber, his mind had started working again.
What the hell was he doing? Lynch knew what she was doing and doing well—testing his resolve, slowly turning him away from his purpose. He hadn’t missed her words about a challenge to her leadership. She’d meant to set him upon the mechs tonight and they both knew it.
But had she meant anything else she’d said? Or was seducing him just a way to soften him? His fist clenched. He highly suspected she was playing him, though whether he’d managed to inflict some damage on her own psyche, he didn’t know.
This had to stop. He had less than a week to “find” Mercury and deliver her to the Echelon. The first part seemingly the easier of the two tasks. He needed to focus himself and think about what he was going to do before he found himself played for a fool.
Lynch stopped in front of the door to Mrs. Marberry’s study, the scent of lemon-infused perfume flavoring the air. Here was another reason his footsteps dragged. Guilt suffused him. He’d left Rosa this afternoon only to find her gone when he returned. After his actions in the observatory, it was little wonder.
When he was in her presence, he hadn’t once thought of Mercury. Rosa eclipsed all thoughts of any other woman. Yet one steamy encounter in the bathhouse had proven him as susceptible as any other man.
