“I don’t know the first thing about marine vessels.”
“I’ll teach you.” He rose to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it. His skin was warm and slightly rough.
“Do you ever crush things?” she asked. “By accident?”
“In the beginning. Now, not so much. I don’t even notice it most of the time now. It’s just me.”
Yes, that made sense to her. He didn’t see just how exceptional he was. Claire stood, waiting until she was certain her legs would support her before she moved. The submersible moved beneath her feet. She could feel the motion of machine and ocean. If she thought about it, though, she’d get hysterical again, so she simply wasn’t going to think about how deep they were and how they’d die a horrible death if anything went wrong. And she certainly wasn’t going to think about her father.
Instead, she did as Alastair had instructed, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth until she felt calmer.
Alastair continued to hold her hand as he led her the few feet to the chairs bolted to the floor in front of the console. He took the one on the right; she sat to his left. Each of them had a steering column and a series of buttons and levers in front of them. A rounded window formed the front-most part of the ship, and a light above the glass, outside on the vehicle, illuminated the water around them. It should have made her feel even more trapped, but it didn’t, because she could see the surface and the daylight above. They weren’t that deep, and knowing that made it easier.
“Here’s how you guide the vehicle,” he explained, wrapping his fingers around the handles as she watched. “You move it like this to turn, like this to rise or surface. . . .”
Claire listened as he explained, paying attention as best she could. It was a little difficult when she was still a bit distracted by her fears, and very distracted by the fact that he was so . . . kind.
And gorgeous. She mustn’t forget that. She’d never fancied a ginger before. He wasn’t quite ginger, though—not in the way she imagined ginger to be. His hair was red, yes, but it was a rich dark red—not quite auburn, but a far cry from orange. He wasn’t pale or abundantly freckled, though he did have some freckles.
He was more handsome now than he had been the first time she saw him. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he’d actually improved in looks. And she was honest enough to admit that the attraction no doubt had something to do with the fact that he would be the last man—who wasn’t a guard—she would be this close to in a long time, perhaps the rest of her life.
He explained things to her for about a quarter hour, demonstrating each thing before giving her a chance to try. He was right; it was good for keeping her mind occupied, and by the time the lesson was done, she was steering the submersible with a fair degree of confidence, monitoring their progress on the panel instruments. They were inching clos s inhe was steer and closer to Howard’s ship.
She didn’t begin to understand how it all worked, but there was a grainy screen on the panel that flashed their location and that of the ship they pursued. It probably had something to do with the aether and mechanics. Arden Grey could probably explain it.
Then again, Arden Grey seemed the capable sort of woman who could poop gold if she set her mind to it. The universe wouldn’t dare deny her, and if it did, she’d find a way around it. No wonder the Company hadn’t been able to take her away from Huntley. No wonder he came back to her despite all their work and deceit.
“How do we get on board once we catch up?” she asked, turning her attention back to what was important.
“I’ve telegraphed the ship’s captain, letting him know the Wardens have confidential business on board. We’ll surface and be lifted up into the ship. The sub will be held by the boat until we dock in New York.”
“It will be the first time I’ve been to New York in a long time,” she confided.
“I’m sorry we won’t be there long enough for you to enjoy it.” The honest sincerity in his voice made the back of her eyes burn. She did not let it show, however. She still had some of her pride.
“So am I,” was all she could let herself say. When this was over she would have a long list of regrets, but they would all be worth it when Howard died at her hand. If she was lucky, Alastair or some other Warden would kill her immediately so she didn’t have long to dwell on those regrets.
Regret had a way of growing—like a cancer—and it wouldn’t take long for her to doubt that she’d done the right thing and wish that she’d taken a different road. She didn’t want to live that long.
“I think you succeeded in scaring the Doctor,” Alastair commented a few minutes later. She had wondered when he was going to bring that up.
“I wasn’t going to kill him,” she confided. “Hurt him, yes. I just wanted to know why Howard did what he did.” She wouldn’t have taken the little bastard’s eye out.
Well, she might have taken his eye, but she would have cauterized the wound with her aether pistol. He wouldn’t have died from it.
“You may never know why.” There was an edge to his voice that hinted at questions of his own. “Sometimes people do things, even people we love, and we never understand why they did them.”
“Are you talking about Sascha again?” Claire had known the woman only by reputation, but she was on her way to despising the cow. If she wanted Alastair dead, she should have just killed him, and if she wanted to protect him, she should have done all she could for him, rather than being a coward and letting him suffer because of her lover’s jealousy.
And yes, she was well aware that she’d practically defended the woman at the inn with all the “she loved you” nonsense. Probably Sascha had developed feelings for him. That was all the more reason she should have done all she could to protect him.
If she’d loved him, she should have just walked away.
“No.” He looked so sad, she wanted to console him, but she had no idea how to do it in a manner he’d accept. “Not her. I wish I were.” And that was obviously all he was going to say.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” she told him. “God knows I’d be the last person to criticize someone for having secrets.”
A humorless chuckle met her words. “You’re not prying. It’s just something I swore I’d never talk about. I’ve already said more about it to you than I have to anyone else in the last two years.”
“It’s easier to tell a stranger private things. I don’t know why, but they say it is.” Regardless, warmth filled her chest at his confession. Lord knew she’d told him things she shouldn’t have. And she couldn’t remember the last time she told anyone about Robert.
“Yes, they do say that, don’t they?” His stormy eyes twinkled. “They say a lot of shite. And you’re not quite a stranger. Not anymore.”
Maybe not, but she wasn’t exactly a friend, either, was she? And after she killed Howard, he’d think even less of her. She would have to live with that, because nothing would deter her from her goal. Not even that she and Robert hadn’t been close in a long time—much longer than she cared to admit.
At least she wouldn’t have to live with it for long.
Chapter 10
They finally caught up to the Mary Katherine at around five o’clock that afternoon. They’d made better time than Alastair had expected, and that was a welcome thing indeed. Claire managed to hold herself together for the rest of the trip, but he could tell it took a lot out of her just trying to remain calm.
He hadn’t asked about the cause of her terror, but when she likened the submersible to a closet, he’d gotten the impression that was where the fear began. Someone had locked her in a very small, dark space, and now anything remotely similar brought back those childhood feelings of being powerless and terrified.