Fire & Frost (23 page)

That child
was
his daughter now—and not a substitute for Elizabeth. Caius had never asked or expected his daughter to be like her. But given Elizabeth’s history, he feared she might believe it of him. She might think he was yet another man who couldn’t let go of the woman he loved.

“His machine?” Dismay filled her voice. “You destroyed it?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him, but Caius didn’t think she was seeing his face. That dismay was on behalf of the sanctuary.

It
had
been an incredible machine, and Caius believed in the necessity of the work it had done. But it had become a terrible device when used as Willem Janssen had.

With a sigh, Elizabeth nodded. “Perhaps it is for the best, anyway. I told my father that machine had become a crutch—and eventually conservationists would have been breeding replicated animals to their own offspring. Better to have a few duplicates spread across different sanctuaries to strengthen a population’s overall numbers and stop there.”

And Caius would hunt for new specimens, if necessary. He believed in that work, too.

“So you destroyed his machine.” Her gaze sharpened. “What did you do then?”

“I ran. To England, first. Then other places.” Though few in the New World, where anyone infected by nanoagents was forbidden from crossing many borders without special sanction. When he’d served her father, Caius had possessed the necessary permissions to travel almost anywhere. As a fugitive, he hadn’t. “Many locations were the same that you’d run to. Chasing you taught me more about hiding than hunting ever had.”

Her quick laugh left a smile on her lips. God, he loved her mouth. Her eyes. The way she tilted her head to look up at him again, not the dismayed stare but her entire face lit by humor.

“Truly?”

“Yes. I learned well from you.” He smiled now, too. “So I avoided the Ivory Market.”

Where he’d caught up to her the last time. She laughed again, nodding as if in agreement—then stopped herself, biting her lip. Uncertain. Nervous.

Her gaze flicked to the mattress beside her leg.

In the next moment she surged away from the bed, standing on the opposite side of the cabin with her back pressed to the bulkhead. Shoulders stiff, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts. She didn’t meet his eyes.

Perhaps remembering the days that had followed, and how he’d tied her after he’d caught her.

Caius remembered those days, too. That had been the most torturous week of his life. Not just because her pleas to let her go had tormented him.

She
had tormented him. Her sweetness and her ferocity and her beauty, and her determination to escape, no matter the cost.

And at one point, Elizabeth hadn’t begged or threatened. She’d offered herself to him—her virginity and anything else he wanted. She’d lain in bed with her wrists bound and her face flushed, and she’d asked Caius if he would take her body in exchange for letting her go.

God help him, he’d considered it for a moment. He’d considered climbing into the bed and between her thighs, then pushing deep inside her sweet warmth. He’d considered letting her escape, then returning to her father and claiming that he hadn’t found her. He’d considered giving up his freedom for a few hours in her arms.

Caius had considered it—then had coldly told her that he didn’t want her.

By the flush on her cheeks now, he thought she was remembering that offer, too. Perhaps remembering the lie he’d given in response. Her gaze fell to his mouth. “Why did you kiss me earlier?”

Even as she spoke, dismay returned to her eyes. She hadn’t meant to ask, Caius realized. But she hadn’t been able to help herself.

He couldn’t help himself, either. “Because I’ve always wanted to.”

Doubt filled her expression again—along with the same hurt he’d seen in her eyes so many times. Hurt that he’d put there when he lied, when he’d pretended not to care.

Now it was there because she couldn’t believe that he did. She must think he was playing with her.

“That’s not possible. Never between us.” She looked away and her voice roughened. “I despise you. And I can’t trust you.”

Despising someone wasn’t a reason not to kiss them. It wasn’t a reason not to spend hours in bed with them. Caius had despised her, too, because of how she’d made him feel. He thought now it was the same for Elizabeth. The desire was there between them—it had
always
been there. He’d known it from her first flirtatious looks in the sanctuary, from those smiles that killed him and made him dream of running off with her. He knew it from the hitch in her breath the second time he’d kissed her.

But she didn’t trust him. That was far more important than desire.

And he’d already accepted that nothing between them was possible. It shouldn’t scrape his heart raw to hear her say so.

Yet it did.

“I know,” he said past the ache in his throat. “And I won’t attempt to kiss you again. After we reach the Ivory Market, we’ll go our separate ways.”

Still not looking at him, she nodded, her eyes bright and her jaw locked.

Upset.

He’d thought hearing that would have pleased her. But maybe she didn’t trust that he’d leave her alone.

Blast it all. He shouldn’t have kissed her. “I only mean to protect you now, and to make certain no one comes after you again. I only mean to help.”

“How can I believe that, Caius?” Her gaze snapped to his, hard and angry. “You hate me. All my life, you’ve hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you.”

Her laugh in response ended as abruptly as it started, as if the sound was too sharp and painful, cutting her as it emerged. Eyes glittering, she looked away from him again.

God damn it. He couldn’t bear to see her cry. He couldn’t bear being the reason for it. And he needed her to look at him, to believe him. Desperation carried him across the cabin, stopping an arm’s length from her. Close enough to touch—but he
wouldn’t
touch her.

“I didn’t hate you, Elizabeth,” he repeated hoarsely. “I hated that you were everything I wanted and couldn’t have.”

Her gaze shot to his face again. Lips parting, she stared at him. “Why would you tell me something like that when I’ve just said nothing could come of it?”

What would be the point of trying to protect his heart now? He couldn’t damage it any worse than he already had. So he had nothing to hide. And he had nothing to gain or to lose.

“Does it matter what I tell you? Will you trust me? Will you no longer despise me? Does it make
any
difference?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

“Then the least I can do is give you the truth. And I never hated you.”

Her chest rose and fell on a short, shuddering breath. Then another. Her gaze searched his face. Still uncertain what to believe.

Her throat worked. When she spoke, her voice was tight and high. “Was it true what you told me on deck—your reason for helping me?”

“Yes.” Unable to stop himself, he took another step toward her. Close enough to kiss—but he
wouldn’t
kiss her. The confession came more easily this time, but was just as gruff to his ears. “I love you.”

Hope flashed across her expression. Doubt chased it away. “You don’t even know me.”

“I do.”

“We only spent a week together on an airship. You never talked with me before that. And when you did speak to me…” Flattening her lips, she averted her face.

When Caius had, he’d been cruel to her.

Now his love was hurting her, too—because she didn’t believe him. But disbelief wasn’t enough to wound someone. Disbelief only hurt when someone
wanted
to believe.

He knew that too well.

“I followed you for so long, Elizabeth. And I lied to myself about who you were, despite everything I saw and everything I knew about you. Not anymore.”

She huffed out a short breath and pinned him with a challenging glare. “What could you possibly know?”

“I know why the animals are so important to you.”

“Because I’m a naturalist’s daughter.”

“That might be part of the reason. I don’t think it’s all of it. When your father sent me to hunt you down, the first place I wanted to look for you was with your friends. But I discovered you didn’t have any. I thought it proved everything I believed of you—that despite your wealth and beauty, you thought yourself better than everyone, so that when the time came to run, there was no one for you to run to. But everywhere you went, no one said that. They said you kept to yourself, but you weren’t arrogant or proud. And everywhere you went, you were still visiting animals. It didn’t matter what sort. A donkey or a kitten or a cur on the street—petting them if they’d allow it and feeding them if they didn’t.”

She was shaking her head. “That isn’t a secret. My life has always revolved around caring for them.”

In the sanctuary. “Why did you try so hard with me, then—despite every insult I said to you? Because I’m so handsome?”

A laugh startled from her. Her gaze swept over his face. “It must have been the only reason.”

But it hadn’t been. “And because you didn’t have anyone else. I never realized how you were kept secluded. I thought that when you returned to your big house every day, you would have entertainments and friends. But there was only your father and his colleagues…until I came. A boy, only two years older than yourself. And for the first time in your life, you thought you might not be alone with only animals to keep you company. You thought I might be a friend—finally, a friend with two legs instead of four. That’s why you tried so hard.”

“No,” she said, but it was barely a whisper over a broken breath.

“But I didn’t try at all. I
should
have been that friend twelve years ago. I should have been that friend five years ago, when your father sent me after you. I should have been that friend two years ago, when I caught up to you. So I’m trying to be that friend now.”

Tears swam in her eyes again, but this time she didn’t look away. She stared up at him. Yearning held her features absolutely still; her arms wrapped around her middle as if hugging herself tight.

“I
know
you, Elizabeth. You. Not who someone wants you to be, but who you are.”

She closed her eyes. The tears spilled over her cheeks and she shook her head. Still not trusting him.

“I know you have no reason to believe me. I hid everything I was from you, and I never let you know
me
. But by the time we arrive in the Ivory Market, you’ll know who I am. We’ll go our separate ways.” The thickness in his throat roughened his voice. “But there will always be one friend you can go to, no matter your troubles. A friend who will always believe you. Who will always help you. That’s who I am.”

She seemed to crumple. Standing stiff against the bulkhead one moment, in the next she buried her face in her hands, muffling a wounded cry. Her shoulders slumped. As if her knees had given out, she began to slide down the wall.

And God help him, Caius broke every promise to himself. Lurching forward, he caught her before she hit the floor and gathered her against him, letting her sob into his chest. His eyes burning, he tried to soothe her, pressing kisses to the top of her head and murmuring a vow never to hurt her again.

Elizabeth slowly quieted, but she didn’t leave his arms. Her cheek lay over his heart, her fingers softly curled beneath her chin, her gaze staring into nothing. Now and again another shudder wracked her body, and with each one, he held her tighter.

But he had to let her go.

The knock came too soon. Through the door, the porter called, “Five minutes to dinner, miss.”

Raising his voice, Caius thanked the man. As the porter’s footsteps moved on to the next cabin, Elizabeth stirred in his embrace and lifted her head. Cupping her cheeks in his gloved hands, he looked down into her tear-ravaged face. Her eyes searched his, and he watched her wariness and uncertainty return—and the hope.

“Go on, then,” he told her quietly.

She answered with a slight nod, a tiny movement that was heaven against his palms. “What will you do?”

His gaze fell to her softly trembling lips. But he wouldn’t kiss her. “I’ll keep watch above.”

And try to prove himself the friend he’d said he was.

ELIZABETH HAD NO appetite, but she knew from experience that it was best to eat when she could.

As the only female passenger, she’d been placed at Captain Harker’s right hand. She must have been proving very dull company. Barely a word had passed her lips since she’d sat at the table, but the captain bore it well. He spoke with the men, and though she felt his gaze upon her from time to time, he didn’t attempt to drag her into the conversation.

Elizabeth was grateful for it. A gruff man with a weathered face and long black beard, Harker had already shown himself to be a kind man, as well. When she’d arrived for dinner, he’d taken one glance at her, eyes still slightly red and swollen from crying, and carefully pulled her aside for a private word.

She suspected that the crew had told him she’d been holding hands with Caius on deck and that he’d been in her cabin when the porter had come by, but the evidence of her tears must have alarmed him.