Touch of Steel: A Novel of the Clockwork Agents (21 page)

“Because you thought they had killed your brother?”

“Yes.” Claire glanced at Luke. “And because the Doctor had harmed a friend of mine.”

Out of the corner of his eye Alastair saw Luke smile slightly at Claire. Under different circumstances, he would have been tempted to punch him for it, but there was no place for jealousy here.

The questioning went on to Claire’s and Alastair’s setting off to find Robert Brooks. Fortunately, no questions were asked in regards to their relationship. Dhanya managed to be thorough without bringing that up. “You seriously injured Stanton Howard on board the
Mary Katherine
, even though you knew at that point he was your brother. Why?”

Color bloomed in Claire’s pale cheeks, but she didn’t look at him. “He had injured Lord Wolfred and was going to kill him. I couldn’t let him do that.”

Dhanya turned to the table. “I would like the conclave to take note that not only did Miss Brooks injure her own brother, but that she risked her life to save that of Lord Wolfred. Her part in that operation yielded valuable information, and it recovered sensitive secrets that could have been disastrous had they fallen into the wrong hands. Upon her return to Warden custody, Miss Brooks has given her full cooperation and spent many hours answering questions concerning her years as a Company operative. She has made it perfectly clear that she no longer holds any allegiance to that agency or its operatives.”

“And you believe her, Madam Director?” It was Alastair’s own mother who asked this, but he wasn’t surprised. In fact, he was rather impressed. Forcing Dhanya to give her own opinion would certainly carry weight with the rest of the conclave.

Dhanya’s gaze drifted from one Warden to the next. “I do.”

A silent, joyous cheer sounded in Alastair’s mind.

The focus shifted now to witnesses. Dhanya called Evie first, who testified to Claire’s behavior when she was first brought into custody. She related that Claire never tried to escape or attempted to harm anyone.

“What observations did you make concerning Miss Brooks?” Dhanya asked.

Evie cast an apologetic glance at Claire. “I thought it sad that she seemed so surprised that I might be kind to her. It seemed to me that she hadn’t known much kindness in her life, or joy. She’d been an agent for almost half her life, and she knew no other way.”

Claire glanced away, but not before Alastair saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. It broke his heart. He had become an agent because he wanted to, but she hadn’t had much choice, not if she wanted to stay with the one person she had left—the person who should have protected her but who was little more than a child himself.

Two of the conclave members asked Evie their own questions—nothing of much import. Then she was dismissed. Luke was called next.

“Lord Huntley, you knew Miss Brooks from the time you spent under Company control. Can you describe the nature of your relationship, please?”

Alastair clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of Luke’s gaze upon him. He didn’t dare glance at his friend. Instead, he looked at Claire, whose attention was directed at him, not at Luke. There was something in her eyes—an emotion just for him—that eased the tension in his shoulders. If she didn’t care that they all knew about her and Luke, he wouldn’t care, either.

“We sometimes worked together,” Luke explained. “We were friends.”

“Is that all you were?” Ashford asked with a slight sneer.

Luke turned to the older man. “I don’t know about you, Ashford, but I regard friendship as a very intimate relationship. Friendship requires a degree of caring and respect. Claire Brooks was my friend.”

“Would you say you trusted her with your life?” Dhanya asked, cutting off whatever else Ashford might have to say.

“I would,” Luke replied. “And she saved it on at least one occasion. Claire was one of the few agents I met—Warden or Company or whatever—who genuinely believed she was doing something to make the world a better place.”

“Stick to answering the questions, Huntley,” Ashford commanded.

Luke glared at the old man, but it was Dhanya who answered. “Lord Huntley was called here to give testimony as to the measure of Miss Brooks’s character. His statement will go on record, and you, Lord Ashford, will remember that in this room,
I
decide what a witness can and cannot say.”

Alastair’s teeth clenched so tight, his head began to ache. Was any of this making any sort of difference to any of them? If they all thought as Ashford, they’d surely vote to keep her locked up.

His hand went to the packet in his coat. Those papers were probably the only chance Claire had of freedom. It was all up to him.

Luke was told he could leave the witness box. He shot Ashford a dark glance as he stood. Alastair might have smiled had he not been grinding his teeth in anxiety.

Dhanya’s gaze met his. The attention of the entire table turned toward him. “I call upon Alastair Payne, Lord Wolfred. Please stand, my lord.”

Alastair rose, aware of Claire’s gaze upon him, so full of hope. He could not fail her.

He wouldn’t.

* * *

When Alastair stood, Claire’s heart jumped into her throat. She hadn’t seen him for days, and he looked in sorry need of a bath, a bed and a clean change of clothes. Still, he was the most gorgeous, incredible man she’d ever laid eyes on. She knew his disheveled appearance was all because of her, and she loved him for it. Whatever the outcome of this trial, she would spend the rest of her days knowing that he had cared more than anyone in her life.

Then it struck her just how pathetically sad that was. A man who had known her but a handful of days had changed her life so incredibly much. She would never forget that.

The director questioned Alastair about the mission that had put the two of them together, and he answered honestly. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, however; he kept his gaze on the conclave. That was probably wise, but she could use a look from him—just a glance—to let her know nothing had changed between them.

She didn’t expect this trial to end in her favor, but it would be easier to accept that if she knew he was on her side.

“I have something to say to the conclave, if I may,” he said after telling them how she’d stopped Robert from killing him on the ship.

“What is it?” the director asked. Claire frowned. The woman looked as though she already knew the answer.

From inside his coat, Alastair withdrew a string-tied packet. “I would like to formally request that Claire Brooks be recruited into the Wardens of the Realm.”

A great uproar sounded at the table—mostly from the old man named Ashford and a couple of his cronies. Lady Wolfred scowled at them. “Oh, do shut up!”

The director banged the gavel at her right. “Order!” she cried. The men—the ones who hadn’t heeded his mother—quieted. “Continue, Lord Wolfred.”

Alastair cleared his throat. “Claire Brooks not only volunteered to help us locate the Doctor and Stanton Howard, but she aided in the capture of both and saved my life. She has proved herself a capable and worthy asset to this organization.” He held up the packet. “I have here papers signed by the director of the Company stating that he will relinquish all hold on Miss Brooks, as well as retract any orders to do her harm, if Robert Brooks is turned over to Company custody.”

Angry voices rose again. “Are you serious?” asked a man whose name Claire didn’t know. “This woman is hardly worth the information we can get out e c>Anof her brother!”

That might have stung had he not been correct. Claire turned her attention back to Alastair. What the hell was he doing?

“We’ve already gotten everything we can out of Robert Brooks,” Alastair informed them. “The information he’s given us is invaluable. Claire Brooks has given us intelligence that is almost as good, and she can continue to be of service to this organization. If we hand over Robert Brooks, alias Stanton Howard, into Company custody, not only is it a gesture of goodwill between our agencies, but the director has also agreed to share information on several mutual enemies. We’ve not had such an accord between our agencies since banding together to rid the Continent of Napoleon.”

“How do you know all of this?” Ashford demanded. “And how did such papers fall into your hands?”

Alastair straightened. “I met with the Company director myself in Paris two days ago.”

Claire’s heart seized as blood rushed to her feet. Alastair met with the director? In Paris? Dear God, that meant he had gone to Le Chat Froid—the Company watering hole in that city. For him to walk in there alone . . .

She stared at him. The damn fool had risked his life. For her. What kind of man took that sort of reckless, stupid chance?

A man in love. It hit her like a sack of bricks. Alastair Payne loved her.

“You what?” Ashford cried. “Behind our backs? I’ll have you taken into custody.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” the director informed him. “Lord Wolfred had my permission to go to Paris and meet with the Company’s leader. He is right that this is a tremendous opportunity to forge a little peace between our two agencies. Robert Brooks is of no more use to us. Claire Brooks is. And by combining our information with the Company’s, we could help to bring down several enemy operations in Europe. Britain has her share of enemies. It is a chance we cannot ignore.”

Ashford looked as though he might have a stroke. “And just who will take responsibility for this woman if we do accept her?”

“I will,” Alastair said. “I will accept full responsibility.” Now he looked at her. There was such determination in those gray eyes. Such love. Claire blinked back tears. Hell, she’d become a weeping idiot since meeting him.

“No,” Ashford said. “I won’t support this.” His cronies nodded in agreement.

“I will support it,” Lady Wolfred said, and three others agreed with her. Still, Ashford had more supporters.

Alastair’s shoulders straightened. “If you do not support my motion to enter into this agreement with the Company, I will resign from the Wardens.”

“No.” Claire tried to stand up, but the automatons pushed her back down into her seat. “Alastair, you can’t do that!”

Evie rose to her feet as well. “I too will resign.”

Claire stared at the woman, who turned and gave her a supportive smile. This time, there was no stopping the tears that filled her eyes.

Luke stood beside them, as did Arden. “And you’ll never get anything out of me or any more inventions from my wife.”

Ashford glared at them all before turning to the director. “What are you going to do about this, woman? I demand you take action!”

The director smiled. “I am for the agreement, and if this conclave doesn’t agree to it, you will have my resignation as well.”

The old man sputtered. “You’re doing this for her?” He gestured at Claire.

The director barely glanced at her. Instead, she nodded at Alastair. “I’m doing it for him. For all he’s done for this organization and this country, we owe him. I trust him entirely, and if he says this is something we need to do, then by God we
will
do it.” She sat back in her chair. “Now, shall we take a vote? All those in favor of recruiting Claire Brooks and entering into an accord with the Company say aye.”

Several hands rose—more than half. “Aye,” came the chorus of voices.

The gavel came down. The director turned to Claire. “Congratulations, Miss Brooks. You are now a Warden, and a free woman.”

A sob tore from Claire’s throat. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t thought . . . Suddenly she was caught up in a hug that smelled slightly of amber. It was Evie. She wrapped her arms around the other woman and hugged her fiercely.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Evie drew back with a wide grin. “I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back.

Luke was there next. He gave her a smile and a hug before moving aside for the director. “Welcome to the Wardens,” she said. “I look forward to working with you. You will be released into Alastair’s custody after all the necessary paperwork is filled out.”

The guards took her by the arms and led her from the room. She craned her neck to look over her shoulder. “Alastair?”

He looked up and smiled at her. That was the last thing she saw before the door slammed shut.

Chapter 19

An hour later, Claire was brought to Dhanya’s office. Alastair had just finished signing the papers that made Claire his responsibility. Basically he was to be a guardian of sorts, and the person on whom all the blame would fall should she betray the Wardens. All that was left was for her to sign as well.

Her eyes were red, but she walked with a straight spine. He’d never seen her look so uncertain before. It was oddly humbling. He’d thought she was unshakeable.

Dhanya handed her a fountain pen. “If you’ll sign these papers, Miss Brooks, you can go on your way.”

Claire’s fingers shook as she accepted the pen. She looked at Alastair. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

His lips curved slightly. He’d been expecting this. “Give us a second, will you, Dhanya?”

His friend and superior nodded. “Of course. I’ll be just outside.”

When the door clicked shut, Alastair turned to Claire. “What’s the matter?”

She stared at him as though he were mad. Perhaps he was. “Alastair, think about what you’re doing.”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’ve done nothing
but
think about it for days, Claire. It was my idea to offer you a place in the Wardens so you wouldn’t be a target for other agencies. I was the one who worked out the details of trading Robert for you. I was the one who went to Paris and sat down with the Company director—who didn’t try to take my head off, I’m pleased to say. So don’t you dare ask me to think about it any further. It’s done.”

“This is a big risk you’re taking,” she informed him. “What if six months from now you decide I’m not worth the effort?”

“That won’t happen.”

“What if it does?” Her eyes were round, like saucers.

He understood what this was. She was afraid. His brave, foolish Claire, who had faced dangers that would turn most men to gelatin, was afraid of love—afraid that maybe she wasn’t worth it. He brought his hands down on her shoulders.

“I love you,” he confessed—not that she hadn’t figured that out already. “It hit me fast and hard, and I’ve tried to think my way out of it a dozen times, but that doesn’t change that I do indeed love you. I love everything about you—even the things I don’t know yet. I’m not naive enough to suppose we’ll never have troubles, but I do know that I would have never forgiven myself if I didn’t do everything in my power to give us the chance to try. Maybe it won’t last, but, Claire, what if it
does
?”

As speeches went, it wasn’t his most eloquent, but she didn’t seem to mind. Tears welled up on her lashes and spilled onto her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”

Alastair smiled and wiped away her tears with the backs of his fingers. “Yes, you do.”

She stared at him, and his grin widened. “Do it,” he commanded, as she had to him that morning not so long ago in the little Scottish inn.

Her lips parted. “I—I love you,” she whispered.

He laughed. “Louder.”

“I love you,” she repeated, her lips curving into a smile. “It’s insane, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he agreed, wrapping his arms around her. “It is insane, and I don’t care. You’re stuck with me, Claire Brooks, for as long as you like.”

Her arms came up around his neck. “For the rest of my life.”

“Agreed.”

She pulled back and shoved her hands against his chest, knocking him back a step. “But don’t you
ever
take such a foolish, dangerous risk for me again! I won’t stand for it, do you hear me?”

Alastair laughed. Not even her ire could dur ime all the joy he felt at that moment. “Of course, you would never take such a risk yourself?”

Her smile faded as she lifted her hand to his face. Her palm pressed gently against his cheek. “I’d rather rot in a Warden prison than live a life without you in it.”

He swallowed, a sudden thickness in his throat. “No foolish risks. I promise.”

“Then so do I.” Her breasts pressed against his torso as he pulled her close once more. “You really want to do this?”

“I do. You?”

She nodded, pulling his head down to hers. “I do. I really do.”

And then they kissed, and nothing else mattered.

Six months later

“Amazing performance, Miss Clarke. You are the best Tatiana I’ve ever witnessed.”

Claire smiled as she accepted the bouquet of lilies the older gentleman offered her. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you so much.” She turned and gave the flowers to a girl who worked for the theater, who took them away to put them in water like the six such offerings that had come before.

She worked her way through the small crowd of theatergoers who had attended that night’s performance until finally she was alone in the dressing room. With a weary sigh, she dropped onto the stool in front of her vanity.

Shakespeare. Of all the plays she had to perform and win accolades for, why did it have to be Shakespeare? Fate had a rather ironic sense of humor, it seemed.

She opened a jar of cream to remove the heavy greasepaint from her face—the smell still reminded her of Robert/Howard—and heard a soft noise. She turned her head.

There was someone in her closet.

Her heart bounced off her ribs, but she kept her breathing calm as she reached into the case that contained her makeup and pulled out her new aether pistol. It was much smaller than her original gun, and twice as powerful. Adjustable settings allowed her to control just how much damage she did to her target. She set the switch to
DIS
—discombobulate. God love Arden and her gadgets.

She slowly rose to her feet and moved toward the closet, approaching from the hinged side in case her intruder thought to peek out. A floorboard creaked faintly beneath her heel, and she cringed. She halted, waiting with bated breath. Nothing.

Once she felt safe to move again, she reached out and closed her hand around the doorknob, then yanked the door open as she brought the pistol up to firing height.

The man in her closet grinned at her over a bouquet of white roses—her favorite. Of course he knew that. Alastair knew almost everything there was to know about her—sometimes without having to be told, the bounder.

“You wouldn’t shoot an innocent man, would you?”

“There’s nothing innocent about you,” she replied, lowering her arm. “Are those for me?”

“Of course.” He extended the fragrant blooms to her. “I even paid for them.”

She accepted them with a broad smile and breathed in their sweetness. “They’re gorgeous. I hope you brought me something else, though.”

He pulled a small tube from inside his coat with a flourish. “Of course. Had to pretend I was drunk to get it, though. Hope you don’t mind if tomorrow’s papers comment on how inebriated I was tonight.”

“I think I can live with the New York society pages thinking you can’t hold your liquor.” She lifted the tube to the light. “So this contains information on what the French are up to, does it?”

“Supposedly. We’ll find out when we’re back in London. You need to hide that somewhere safe.”

She went to the vanity, where she set the pistol, took a perfume atomizer from her cosmetic case and popped the false bottom off it. She slipped the tube inside and reattached the bottom.

“Arden?” he asked.

Claire nodded. “The woman comes up with the most interesting things. I don’t know how Luke can stand living with someone who is always thinking.”

“He likes it.” Strong arms slipped around her, pulling her back against his chest. Their gazes met in the vanity mirror. “By the way, you were wonderful tonight.”

Her foolish heart gave a little leap. “You actually saw some of the performance?”

“I make sure I see part of every one; you know that.”

She did. No matter where the W.O.R. sent them or where she performed, Alastair always made certain he watched her. If he couldn’t stay for the whole play, he made sure he at least saw some of it, even though such performances were part of their cover.

“Warden business always comes second to you,” he added, and brushed his lips along the side of her neck.

Claire shivered. They’d been together months now, and his touch still made her weak in the knees. “I never thought I’d enjoy Shakespeare.”

“You’re a perfect fairy queen. You have a lot in common with Tatiana.”

“Such as?”

“Well, she fell in love with an ass.”

She laughed and turned in his arms. “But that wasn’t real. Oberon was her real love—and her husband.”

Something changed in his gaze—it darkened and made her breath catch. “About that.”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking about all these admirers of yours that come sniffing around after every performance. I don’t like it.”

Her heart was pounding now. “No?”

“Not a bit. I don’t like them thinking they stand a chance of charming their way into your bed.”

“It wouStd“Not ld be a very full bed, what with you already in it.”

“Exactly.” His fingers found the ties on the front of her dressing gown and tugged. “I think I need to stake my claim on your affections once and for all.”

She gasped when he kissed the naked flesh of her shoulder. She wore only a chemise and corset beneath the robe. “How do you intend to do that?”

His fingers slid beneath the chemise, up her naked thigh. “How long do we have before our dirigible sails?”

“Ninety minutes.”

“Plenty of time.” He nudged her thighs apart and slid a finger inside her. Her body clenched in response, every nerve igniting.

“This is certainly one way to claim my affections,” she said, breathless. “Though, unless you plan to do this onstage, I’m not sure how much of a public declaration it will be.”

His other hand freed one of her breasts from her corset. He lowered his head and flicked the hot, wet tip of his tongue across her nipple. “It would pack the house,” he murmured. Her nipple tightened under his breath. “But I had something less burlesque in mind.”

The finger inside her curved and stroked a spot deep inside that made her knees turn to water. “Ah! Oh?”

Alastair lifted his head, eyes like pewter as he smiled that seductive little smile of his. The ball of his hand rubbed against her sex in the most delicious manner. He seemed to love these little trysts after a mission, whether it was his, hers or the two of them working together. They went everywhere together, no matter which one of them was working. They were always there in case one of them needed the other.

She needed him now, and she was greedy enough to let him go ahead and give her what she wanted.

“Are you close?” he asked, his voice a whisper as he placed his lips against her ear.

“Yes.” So very, very close. She arched her hips. She heard buttons releasing and felt his other hand brush against her leg as he unfastened his trousers. The hot, hard length of him sprang free. She moaned, then shoved herself down on his fingers.

“Do you want me?” His stubble rasped against her neck.

“Yes.” Two more strokes and she was going to explode.

Suddenly he pulled his finger from her and replaced it with his cock. He thrust hard and deep, shoving the dressing table against the wall. “Marry me.”

His words reverberated through her skull as the first wave of orgasm washed over her.

“Marry me, Claire.”

Her head flew back as she came. His words unlocked something inside her, intensifying her climax to a degree she’d never felt before. “Yes!” she cried. “I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you.”

Her words had a similar effect on him. Two more thrusts and he stiffened, groaning her name against her hair.

They stayed locked together for some time, untiomestil Claire glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Alastair, we have to go. We’re going to miss our flight.”

He withdrew from her and fastened his trousers, then turned his attention to helping her dress. She didn’t even have time to remove her greasepaint, now smeared. Laughing, she wiped a smudge from his cheek. She grabbed some clothes and wiped her face as clean as she could as he threw the rest of her belongings in a valise. The remainder of their luggage would already be on board the dirigible.

Claire tugged on a simple gown of rose-colored silk. Alastair fastened the buttons in the back as she packed up the cosmetic case and locked it. Then, hand in hand, they fled the dressing room, through the corridor that was fortunately not nearly as packed as it had been earlier.

The spring night was cool as they ran down the steps of the theater to where a line of steam cabs sat waiting for clients. They jumped into the first one, and Alastair shouted for the driver to go.

They raced through the streets of Manhattan toward the Central Park dirigible yard—a small section of turf on the lower eastern half of the huge park. With a few minutes to spare, they boarded the ship and took their belongings to their stateroom. They were on the deck watching the city disappear when Alastair offered her an emerald-cut sapphire set in a simple golden band. “It was my mother’s.”