Page 55

Thirty feet below Margarite’s, the tunneling party stood in water that reached their shins.

“What fuckin’ use are you, Teddy?” Gunner spat. He seemed tortured by the aftereffects of the bluff. “It’s turned into a lake overnight.”

“Aye,” added Briggs. “The struts are already shiftin’, Pat. The dirt beneath is erodin’.”

Theodore looked down the belly of the tunnel. Not at Patrick, not at Nina, not at the other men. “I need a day to get rid of it,” he said in an empty voice. “Maybe two.”

Gunner scrubbed viciously at his face. Donny sighed.

Briggs clapped his hands together. “I’ll stay down here with Teddy. See if I can’t start fixin’ the timber along the way.”

Patrick handed Briggs the canary cage without looking at him. His stare was saved for the back of Theodore’s head. “Is it one day that you need, or is it two?”

“Two,” Theo said. “To dry it up properly. And to find where it’s getting in.”

“Fuck me, Pat,” said Gunner. “Here we fuckin’ go.”

But that was mining. Two setbacks for every victory. An inch gained and another lost. Patrick thought they ought to be pleased they wouldn’t be bucketing it out by hand.

“Be thankful, brother,” he said, patting Gunner on the back. “The day is yours. You can sleep off that pounding in your head.”

Gunner turned for the shaft, grumbling under his breath about not being suicidal enough to return home.

Patrick turned to take Donny’s sleeve, but Nina was already there. She had threaded her arm with Donny’s. “If you topple me,” she told him, “I’ll trip you up on purpose.”

Donny grinned widely. “Shit. She sounds like you ,” he said to Patrick, who scowled.

“If you topple her, I’ll trip you every day for the rest of your sorry life.”

“Ma would clobber you,” Donny said assuredly, his chin high. “I wouldn’t mind hearin’ the sweet sounds of wood on your arse, just like when we were kids—”

“Does he always have so much to say?” Nina asked, leading Donny onward.

“?’Fraid so.” Donny said before Patrick could answer. “Have you any interest in hearin’ a story? I’ve got one about young Patrick hangin’ by his underpants out a girl’s window.”

Nina’s eyes lit up.

“Shut up, Donny,” Patrick said. “Remember, you won’t see my fist before it hits your face.”

They clambered into the shaft, and Gunner pulled them topside, but before the lantern light disappeared from view, Patrick saw Theodore standing in all that water, watching them all with a strange, bottomless expression.

Patrick concealed the pit with the trapdoor and brushed his hands clean.

Donny and Gunner were already exiting Margarite’s, taking advantage of their rare free day to do whatever they wished.

Patrick ought to tend to the many outstanding concerns of Kenton, starting with the eastern mine and the reports of unstable ground.

But Nina stirred in his periphery, feigning interest in the mannequins. Not moving off immediately, but not speaking, either. She had said nothing to him since she’d arrived at the shop that morning, nor had she met his eye. In fact, she seemed gray with exhaustion.

“You didn’t sleep?” he asked, his breath swarming dust in the air.

Her cheek ticked, and still, she didn’t look his way. “Not well.”

He sighed, dread in his lungs. Best not to delay sorry news. “Do you want to pretend last night never happened, Nina? Is that it?”

He’d give her that, if it was what she wanted.

She took far longer to respond than any man could stand. He felt her grappling with it, lips parting and shutting. Finally, she said, “No. I don’t think I can.”

Lord, how he wished for a look inside her head, to watch the cogwheels turn. “Do you regret me already, then? It usually takes a little longer, I’ll admit.”

She grinned at the floorboards, and it morphed her entire face, disarming him. “Long enough to hang you out a window?”

He ran his hand over his face. “Fuckin’ Donny.”

Her grin widened. “Must’ve been quite the night.”

Patrick felt his blood rush south. The light was glancing off the ends of her curls, the tip of her nose, the side of her neck.

She bit her lip to keep from laughing, and though he hadn’t found the fun in repartee of late, she seemed to enjoy teasing him, and he had begun to crave the sound of her voice.

He suddenly pictured himself trapping her against a wall again. He wanted to feel her soft body pressed once more to his. To run his hands over every agonizing curve of her.

Perhaps it showed on his face, because Nina’s cheeks flushed pink. He was beginning to crave that, too.

Patrick’s lips quirked, just slightly. “If it’s to be a night of regrets, I make sure to be very thorough.”

She cleared her throat. “And exactly how long is this line of women who regret you?”

“Are you asking for a list, Scurry girl?”

“God, no ,” she held up a hand to fend him off. “Please forget I asked.”

“You sure? I could introduce—”

“I’ll make you a deal,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “I’ll hear your list if you hear mine.”

Patrick’s smirk vanished. Something vicious lashed his insides. He thought of faceless men he’d never met and heard a trigger pull. To stop from giving himself away, he pressed his lips together.

And she glowed, victorious.

Goddamn. He could stand to lose more fights, if this was the reward.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

It was a good excuse to take her hand, and wind it into the crook of his elbow. She didn’t question him as he led her out into the square, through the arch and along the canals, crossing the industrial district and then out, out, out into the hills.

He thought her color was returning. She walked on the tips of her toes, turned her face up to the sun. She panted and complained as they climbed a hill full of chestnut trees, but her grin never quite disappeared.

When at last they reached the top, Patrick extended his arms and said, “Welcome to the Colson brothers’ stronghold.”

That stronghold now only comprised five sandbags, waterlogged pickets, and a couple of upturned crates. Most of the timber had rotted now, or lay broken.

But Nina brightened all the same. “Quite the fort.”

“It’s seen a few battles,” Patrick said. “Duncan McCallum tried to bust in with a broom once.”

“And did he manage it?”

“Course not,” Patrick said. “Donny has dangerous aim. Threw a volley of chestnuts at him.”

She chuckled, then smiled at the view and breathed in deeply.

Patrick followed her gaze to Kenton Hill below them. Eventually, he said, “Does it remind you of home?”

She responded, “Not even a little.”

“Never been to Scurry,” he said conversationally. Then saw the way her shoulders tensed.

“May it stay that way.”

And he wanted desperately to know what it meant—if it was as bad as he guessed, or worse.

Instead, he said, “I’ll walk you back. You can take the day to rest.”

“What will you do?” she asked, not moving an inch. “What do you do with your days if you’re not digging?”

Nothing good. “Today, I’ll visit a friend,” he said. “One I’ve been meanin’ to speak with.”

She narrowed her eyes. “A friend .”

“Yes. A friend.”

“I wasn’t aware you had any.”

“You know,” he said as he took her hand, “you make a lot of assumptions.” They began downhill, and when she didn’t pull her hand away, his chest loosened. He wondered how scandalized she’d be if he kissed her again.

“Can I meet this friend?” she asked. “If only for proof of existence.”

“Another time,” he grimaced. “This friend is a while away.”

“Not in Kenton?”

“No,” he answered. “Dorser.”

She halted, lace grass swilling around her. Her forehead creased. “Dorser? But that’s—”

“A three-hour journey underground,” he finished. “Four if you’re slow.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. Patrick wondered if she intended to look fierce instead of just beautiful. “I’d like to come.”

“No.” Patrick chuckled and continued walking on without her. “Not a chance.”

She followed. “Is it a woman you’re meeting?”

Patrick did not show her his smile. “Careful. You sound jealous.”

“Then why can’t I come? Are you still afraid I’ll run away?”

He considered the question carefully. “No,” he said. “And you don’t seem very fast, in any case. I’d catch you.”

A flicker of annoyance. “I’ll remind you that it took six months for you to catch me.”

“It took six months to find you. Catching you was simple.”

She stopped on the hill, braced her hands on her hips, which only drew his attention to them, which led to imaginings of how he’d span his hands around them, grip the flesh, lift her—

“Then I’ll make you a deal, Patrick Colson. Catch me, and I’ll let you be on your way to Dorser. But if I make it to the fence at the bottom of the hill, you’ll bring me along.”

Some keen sense of thrill was rising in him. On the air was the same scent of pollen and smoke he’d inhaled as a boy, and Nina looked spun from gold light. At any moment, the illusion would vanish. “Then run , Scurry girl,” he said. “I’ll give you three counts of a head start.”

Her eyes widened, as though she’d never expected him to take the bet.

“One…”

She took off, bolting downhill in waterlogged boots, arms windmilling, glee in her wake. He bit back a laugh. “Two…” he shouted.

Down, down, down she ran, and Patrick took his cap in his hand. “Three.”

There was a knack to running on grass-knotted terrain, and Nina didn’t have it. She was already nearing the bottom of the hill and the gate beyond, but Patrick gained on her quickly, throwing himself into the sprint. His feet traversed the ground with ease. She was almost within arm’s reach.

He heard her laughter, and he thought its sound could end a war.

The gate was a stone’s throw away, and he reached for her easily, finally, like it was the most natural command his body could obey.

But the ground beneath him suddenly trembled, and it lifted and cracked in the exact spot he was about to place his foot. He was forced to overcorrect and tripped. “Fuck!”

And Nina reached the gate, her whole body saved by the palms of her hands as she went hurtling into it. She turned with flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, a smile the size of a continent.

Patrick looked up at her from hands and knees, one trouser leg stained green, his hands grazed. “You dirty little cheat.”

She spun in a circle, basking in victory. “Craftsmen have the natural physical advantage. I only evened the field.”

“You tore up the field, little coward.”

She laughed as he rose from the ground, brushing dirt from his hands. “A deal is a deal,” she said, exceedingly pleased with herself. “I’ll accompany you to Dorser.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “This friend I’m meeting—it might get dangerous.”

“I’d gathered that already,” she said, straightening her blouse. “But as I’ve just demonstrated, I can take care of myself. I might even have to protect you .”

He cursed beneath his breath. “Change your shoes,” he said. “You’ll meet Donny, Otto, and Polly in the pub. I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Polly?” Nina asked. “Why Polly?”

Patrick moved toward her, felt her intake of breath when it seemed he’d reach out and touch her, and it took everything to keep his hands to himself, to ignore the way she looked at him. Instead, he pushed at the gate by her back. “You’ll see,” he said.