To Dream Again (41 page)

She took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. He rose to his feet and went into the front room, returning a moment later with a bottle of brandy in his hand.

He uncorked it and held it out to her. "Here. Take a good swallow."

She took the bottle, lifted it to her lips, and obeyed. She coughed, made a grimace, and thrust the bottle back at him. "That's terrible."

"Glad you like it," he returned, relieved to see color begin returning to her face. He corked the bottle and set it down. After a few more minutes, when she had stopped trembling, he gave her cheek a caress and said, "Stay here. I’ll take a look."

He left the flat and went down the stairs, heading for the factory. When he walked inside the building, he came to a halt and stared at the dismantled steam engines with dismay. In the warehouse, his dismay turned to a sick feeling in his gut as he stared at the havoc.

A sound caused him to turn around and he saw Mara standing there. "I thought I told you to wait in my flat."

She lifted wide gray eyes to his face. "I'd rather be with you," she whispered and wrapped her arms around her ribs. An admission of need. He opened his arms and waited.

She walked toward him, stepping carefully amid the things on the floor, and came into his embrace, curling against him, seeking comfort and answers. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would someone do this?"

Nathaniel knew why. He glanced around at the mess. His feelings of shock changed to a deep shimmering anger. Yes, he knew why. He also knew who.

"My God, what happened?"

A shocked voice from the doorway caused both of them to turn in that direction. Michael stood there, staring at the scene in astonishment.

Nathaniel's lips tightened. He pulled gently away from Mara and looked into her face. "You're certain you're all right?"

"Yes."

He took a step toward the door. "Michael, send for the police and notify the insurance company. If the police allow it, start putting things back in order. Make a list of anything that's damaged or missing. We'll need it for the insurance."

"Where are you going?" Mara asked.

He didn't answer that question. "I'll be back later," he said and walked out the door.

***

It was a few minutes past nine when Nathaniel entered Avery's Athletic Club. He passed through the foyer, shaking off the restraining hand of the clerk who said that only members were allowed beyond the receiving area. The man muttered something about finding the manager, but Nathaniel paid no heed.

He passed the changing rooms and Turkish baths, heading for the squash courts. He interrupted three squash matches in progress before he found the one he sought, and he took a great deal of satisfaction in seeing Adrian miss the volley as he caught sight of him standing in the doorway.

But Adrian recovered at once, facing Nathaniel and peering at him as if he were an interesting insect under a magnifying glass. "Well, now,” he drawled, “what have we here?"

Nathaniel looked over at the younger gentleman on the other side of the net, acknowledging Baron Severn with a slight nod. "Excuse us, please."

The baron must have sensed the tension, for he dropped his racquet and hastily left the room.

"Predictable as ever, aren't you, Adrian?" Nathaniel stepped onto the court, letting the door slam shut behind him as he came to a halt several feet away. With his feet planted wide apart, he studied his brother. "Still playing squash every morning. Nine to eleven, regular as sunrise. But that's not surprising. You never did have any imagination."

Adrian didn't move, but there was an answering challenge in his eyes. "B...but I...I...try s...so hard," he mocked.

Nathaniel ignored the taunt. "What, no warm welcome for the prodigal returned?" he asked. "No desire to renew the family ties?"

His reference to Adrian's visit to the factory wasn't lost on his brother. "Lovely woman, Mrs. Elliot," Adrian commented. "It made me realize that having a woman as a partner comes with certain...advantages."

The slight pause made his meaning clear, but Nathaniel refused to be drawn. "Leave her out of this. This is between us, and she has nothing to do with it." He took a deep breath and went on, "I know what you're trying to do, but it won't work."

"I'm glad to see you've finally managed to rid yourself of that ridiculous stutter." Adrian began turning his racquet over and over in his hands. "But you still have that irritating habit of rambling on about nothing, little brother. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. How much did you pay them? Probably not enough, considering the fine job they did last night. You always did pay your employees too little."

"Are you accusing me of something?"

"Don't play games with me, Adrian."

"But I love playing games with you, Nathaniel. I always win."

He hefted his racquet and tossed it to his brother, an unsporting toss that sent the racquet spinning toward his head. Nathaniel lifted both hands and caught it. He lowered it and kept his gaze locked on Adrian. "Not this time."

"You've changed. You're not quite as clumsy as you used to be."

Adrian was afraid. The sneer in his voice had a hollow ring, and his contemptuous gaze barely hid a glimmer of fear. Nathaniel recognized all of his brother's taunts for what they were. The simple posturing of a bully.

When they were boys, Adrian's constant ridicule had eroded his confidence, making him feel inadequate and foolish. Those feelings had carried over into adulthood, when he'd left England at twenty-two still intimidated by his brother. But, as Mara had pointed out only yesterday, he wasn't a boy any longer, and ten years away had changed his perspective. Now, he faced Adrian unshaken by the taunts that had shattered him as a child.

"Yes, I have changed. And the old tricks don't work any longer. If you want to throw your money away on petty schemes to ruin me, then do so, but they'll be futile. I will not let you destroy my business."

"Still trying to compete with me, aren't you?" Adrian sighed and shook his head. "When will you realize you can't win?"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. Ten years ago, he would have realized it. He would have walked away. But now he didn't move. "Never."

"I was wrong. You haven't changed at all. You're still as pudding-headed as ever."

"I suppose so."

Adrian gave him a pitying look. "Make it easier on yourself, little brother. Pack it in and go back to America."

Nathaniel couldn't resist a taunt of his own. "Why should you care that I'm here? You must be afraid of the competition."

His brother shrugged, but Nathaniel saw through the nonchalance. "The way I see it," Adrian continued, "you have two choices. The first is to retreat now while you still can."

"And the second?"

"Prepare yourself for war."

Nathaniel tossed down the squash racquet like a gauntlet, but his gaze never left his brother's. The racquet landed at Adrian's feet, and the clatter echoed in the empty gymnasium. "War it is."

Without another word, Nathaniel turned and left, vowing that this time, there would be no retreat. There would be no surrender.

He walked all the way back to Whitechapel, and by the time he reached the factory, he had a plan. He knew what he had to do. He just hoped it would be enough.

When he arrived at the factory, workers had already begun cleaning up the mess, Percy had gone for the insurance representative, Michael had started putting the steam engines back together, and Mara's shock had worn off. He found her in the warehouse, directing workers with brisk efficiency as they put train parts back in their proper boxes.

She glanced up as he came to a halt beside her. "Whoever did this tried to break into the safe."

Nathaniel sucked in a deep breath. Not only did Adrian intend to destroy him, he intended to steal his invention as well. "The train?"

"The train, the track, and the design specifications are intact. They didn't manage to open the safe, but the office was ransacked. They must have gone looking for another copy of the design specifications when they couldn't open the safe."

"Was anything else taken?"

"Yes, the beam of each steam engine is missing."

Another way to delay him. Cleaning up the mess and replacing the beams would take at least three days. "What did the police say?" he asked.

"Apparently, the vandals went up the fire escape and forced open the door into our office. They also went out that way."

"They?"

"Inspector Carlisle thinks that in order to do this much damage, there must have been more than one, and they were probably here for quite some time. Michael agrees with that."

Nathaniel nodded. "Yes, dismantling the steam engines couldn't have been done quickly, even if there were several of them."

"It couldn't have been done quietly either. I can't understand why we didn't hear anything last night."

An ironic smile touched his mouth. He leaned closer. "Can't you?"

She blushed but didn't reply.

Nathaniel took another glance around. "Besides, this room is on the opposite side of the factory from us and there was quite a storm last night."

"The police said they would make inquiries in the

neighborhood. Whoever did this was trying to break open the safe to steal the train. That I can understand." She lifted her hands helplessly. "But this? This is senseless vandalism. Why?"

It wasn't senseless, and Nathaniel knew it. It was a delay, exactly what Adrian wanted, knowing that delays could cripple him. He turned away abruptly. "I'll help Michael put those steam engines back together. We need to have things back to normal as quickly as possible."

He left her there and set to work, but he knew he was only postponing the inevitable. Mara deserved to know the truth. He had to tell her what Adrian was up to and how he planned to prevent the scheme from succeeding, but he knew that when he did, she would ask him to stop. The woman that he loved would ask him to abandon the dream that was his life. And giving up his dream was the one thing Nathaniel could not do, not even for love.

By that evening, the factory was in some semblance of order. But due to the parts missing from the steam engines, production would be delayed another three days until they could obtain replacements.

Nathaniel and Michael spent their afternoon rebuilding the steam engines as best they could, while Mara worked in the warehouse. Billy came to watch Nathaniel and Michael work. When the factory closed and all the employees left for the day, Nathaniel took the boy out for a bite to eat, then took him home. Mara went up to the office and started straightening up the mess there.

When she'd finished, she sat down in her chair with a tired sigh. It had been an exhausting day, and she had managed to keep the impact of what had happened at bay. But now, when the factory was quiet, when it was dark out and she was alone, the shock and fear began to seep back into her bones.

She felt violated, invaded. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms, wishing Nathaniel would return. A thump outside on the fire escape made her jump out of her chair with a startled cry, but when she heard a loud meow and a scratching sound, she drew a deep, shaky breath of relief. It was only Algernon.

She opened the door, and the kitten strutted inside, a tiny and obviously dead mouse in his mouth. He dropped the prize at her feet like a sacred offering, then strolled past her and curled into a ball under her desk.

Mara kicked the stiff gray rodent out onto the fire escape and shut the door, still shaking. She wanted Nathaniel to come back. If he were here, she wouldn't be jumping at every little sound. She'd feel safe.

She had no idea what she would have done this morning if he had not been there. There would have been no strong arms to hold her, no safe haven to protect her.

Yet, she had run from his arms, from his protection, only moments before that, frightened by the intensity of other feelings, overwhelmed by needs and desires she had never even imagined. She wrapped her arms around her ribs, feeling the misery and confusion well up inside her, as if she were being ripped in half by her own warring emotions.

The loud bang of a door downstairs interrupted the quiet, and she turned her head sharply toward the doorway of the office. Holding her breath, she waited, listening to footsteps on the stairs. It wasn't until Nathaniel entered the room that she let out her breath in a rush of relief.

He carried a steamer trunk on his back, and he took it into his laboratory, giving her a nod of greeting as he passed. She followed him and watched in puzzlement as he set down the trunk. It hit the floor with a thud.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I've brought over some of my things," he said, pointing to a cot that had been set up against the far wall. A wooden chair and several crates stood beside it. "I'll sleep here from now on."

She stared at the cot and realized that he was completely serious. "You're moving in here? But why?"