Page 3 of Kiss of Steele (The Royal Occult Bureau #9)

THREE

EXCITEMENT WOULDN’T LET me sleep. For the first time since boarding the ship, seasickness wasn’t the reason I was awake.

In a couple of days, I’d see my Sandro again and have some answers. Perhaps I read too many novels, but between feeling sick and having nothing to do on board, I’d had a lot of time to think about my predicament. I’d come up with many possible explanations to my parents’ odd behaviour.

According to Mr Marston, Sandro was in danger. As the future king of Rochenstein, he must have many enemies. My parents might have decided I needed to stay away from him because his rivals were attempting to take his life. Although, if that was the case, why not tell me? Father served in the army. It wasn’t too far-fetched to believe he knew Sandro’s life was in danger. I could be in danger too, and if I was going to be honest, a spark of excitement flickered within me.

All my life, I’d been cooped up in the house my parents owned on the outskirts of Oxford. Always controlled by a governess, then a companion, now a bodyguard. I couldn’t even ride a horse without having at least two footmen follow me, and I wasn’t allowed to ride too far from the house.

Oh, the house. It was a fortress. Bars on the windows, reinforced doors, and guards patrolling the grounds. It was suffocating. The strict rules at the estate always pressed against my chest with a choking sensation when I wished for open views and fresh air. For freedom. Adventure. Not on a ship though.

As if on cue, my scar itched. Mayhap my parents felt particularly protective of me after the riding incident. But blazes, the result had been only a cut. I could have incidents anywhere—slipping on the wet cobblestones or falling down the stairs. Why would a single incident cause my parents to become so worried about my safety?

There was another, rather depressing theory about what was happening. My parents might have chosen a husband for me without telling me anything. Rennie. They wanted me to marry him, and the whole ‘cruise in the Mediterranean’ affair was a poor excuse to force me to be close to him. He wasn’t a titled gentleman, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t wealthy. Father might have decided he was a good candidate for that reason, and who knew, perhaps he was a brave soldier my father deeply respected. Well, surely my parents would have never let me go with him if they didn’t respect him.

A groan escaped me. It wasn’t the fact that Rennie didn’t hold a title. I couldn’t care less about his social status or money. But our relationship hadn’t started under the best circumstances, and I didn’t appreciate being forced to marry anyone. I didn’t like being lied to or ordered around either. And Rennie didn’t trust me enough to tell me whatever was happening between my parents and him. Yes, even my parents were lying to me, but they weren’t here.

Now that I wasn’t feeling sick, the low rumble of the engines sounded almost lulling. The cabin, although as big as a double bedroom, was stifling, and the air was stuffy with humidity. The closer we sailed to Portugal, the warmer the air became. So I decided to take a walk on the deck. The only good thing about being on a ship was that I had a certain degree of freedom. I could take a walk without having someone breathe down my neck.

With a bit of luck, Mr Marston would be around too. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him a few more questions about Sandro. He hadn’t told me where and when I was supposed to meet my prince. With an enigmatic ‘Sandro will find you,’ he’d closed the conversation before kissing my hand.

After I slipped into a simple dark-blue dress, easy to fasten, I left my cabin. The ship never slept. At any time of night or day, there were gas lamps lit in the corridors, people walking around, and busy attendants who were always ready to help. I walked past a couple of gentlemen whose cravats were loose over their chests as they laughed and staggered on their feet.

“Evening, madam,” one of them said, waving an unsteady hand.

I sped up. Cold sweat dampened my skin as I wondered if I should return to my cabin. That was the problem with having been surrounded by guards and companions all my life. I didn’t know how to deal with ruffians or what to do in dangerous situations. There had always been someone to take care of me. Or maybe I was too sensitive. My parents’ fears had sunk into my mind and turned me into an easily frightened damsel.

Well, not anymore. I closed my fists and soldiered onwards. If I wanted my parents to treat me like an adult, who could make her own decisions, I had to prove I was worthy of their trust.

As I climbed the stairs to the upper deck, a tingle caused the hairs behind my neck to rise. No gust of wind troubled the air. I paused and glanced around. Aside from an attendant hurrying along the passageway, I was alone. Perhaps it was my fear, still lingering within me, that made me feel jumpy. Lord, was I such a ninny?

The salty air of the sea filled my nostrils when I stepped onto the deck. The wind blew the smoke from the stacks away from me, leaving a magnificently starry sky shining above me. I tilted my head up. Oxford didn’t have so many stars. The city lights and smoke covered them.

I strolled along the deck when I caught a familiar, spicy, masculine scent wafting from behind me.

I turned, and a gasp punched out of me. “Rennie!”

He was standing a few feet from me, dark and gloomy as always. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

I inched away from him and the warmth of his body. “What are you doing here?”

“Do you feel sick again?” Genuine concern rang in his voice.

A hint of guilt pressed against my chest. “I’m fine, thank you. The effect of the green potion seems to last a long time.”

“Great.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and chewed on his bottom lip.

For some odd reason, the gesture captured my gaze and started a stirring in my chest. And lower.

“Do you mind if I walk with you?” he asked.

I cocked a brow, surprised that he was asking. I expected him to simply follow me as he pleased. “Not at all.”

Nodding, he stepped next to me. I resumed my promenade through chaise lounges, where people used to sunbathe during the day, and sun umbrellas. The logo of the Oriental Navigation Company—two golden stars—gleamed in the starlight. I was by no means passionate about ships, especially after having been sick for days, but the quiet deck at night had its own special magic.

“Did you enjoy dancing with Mr Marston?” Rennie asked.

The tone was casual, but I caught something underneath it. Frustration? Worry?

I lifted a shoulder, not wanting to confess that Mr Marston was a far better dancer than he was. “It was a relief to do something other than be sick and wish to die.”

A low chuckle came out of him. Again, the sound ensnared my attention and held it prisoner. I blamed the fresh air and the starry sky for my silly feelings.

“You can tell me the truth. I know I’m a terrible dancer.” He scrubbed the back of his neck, like an embarrassed boy. “Many ladies have complained. There is nothing you can tell me that I haven’t heard before. Two left feet, dancing bear, ugly ogre.” A grin stretched his lips. He had quite full lips now that I noticed them. Sculpted and nicely curved.

“Ugly ogre? That’s rude and not true.” I cleared my throat, realising how inappropriate my comment was. “I mean, I wouldn’t say you’re ugly.”

“But you wouldn’t say I’m handsome either,” he said in a flat tone.

“Actually, I would.” Confound it. I should stop talking.

“Thank you.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “I’m not light or elegant, though.”

“Well.” I focused on the stars. “Let’s just say there’s room for improvement.”

“You are too kind.”

No, not always.

Only the sound of our footsteps echoed on the deck. Up here, the noise of the engine couldn’t be heard, replaced by the rhythmic slosh of the water against the hull. Funny, but until a few hours ago, the sound had driven me mad. Now it was soothing.

“What did Mr Marston tell you?” he asked. The note of frustration I’d heard before was ringing more clearly now.

I slanted him a glare. “Why do you ask?”

“You chatted for a while with him.”

“I see.” I stopped, balling a fist on my hip. “That’s why you followed me and joined me on this walk. You wanted to interrogate me about Edward.”

“Edward? Not Mr Marston?” He worked his jaw.

“None of your business.”

“I didn’t follow you. I happened to be here at the same time as you. And I’m not interrogating you.” Shadows played over his harsh face, adding an ounce of severity to his features. It was amazing how he could look like a boy one moment and a hard man the next. “I’m simply curious to know what he told you.”

“I don’t believe you. Why should I when you lied to me?” A flare of anger heated my words.

A muscle in his neck stood out in sharp relief under his skin. “I have never lied to you. I told you there are things I can’t tell you.”

“Then there are things I can’t tell you, either.” I strode past him and headed towards my cabin.

His footfalls pounded behind me. “Monia, try to understand.”

“Understand what?” I didn’t bother slowing my pace or turning towards him. Or telling him he was being inappropriate again.

His strong fingers curled around my arm with surprising gentleness. “It’s not my place.” His heat reached my back as he stood inches from me. “To tell things.”

I faced him. Somehow, the contact with him calmed my burst of anger. “What do you mean?”

“Your parents decide what you should know. Not me.” For the first time, there were worry lines on his forehead. “I have to listen to them.”

“But you know why they sent me away, don’t you? You know everything.”

We were so close that, when he inhaled, his chest brushed against mine, sending a curious jolt through my body.

“Monia.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Yes, I do, but please don’t ask me any more questions.”

“I see. It’s fine if you ask me questions, though.” The space—the very narrow space—between us was charged with angry energy.

“I’m doing my job,” he gritted out.

“Which is?”

“Keeping you safe.”

There. Sandro was in danger, and my parents were worried that my association with him would put me in danger as well, and obviously, Rennie was my bodyguard. It was another reason not to reveal what Mr Marston had told me. I didn’t want to accidentally put Sandro in further danger if his enemies were hunting him. I stepped away from Rennie and fiddled with the hem of my bodice, just to have something to do. The scar on my wrist pricked, as if in warning.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he repeated. “Will you let me protect you?” The way he asked that, with his thick eyelashes lowering over his emerald eyes, softened my resolve.

“You don’t need my permission.”

“I do.” He frowned, his hand caressing mine for a brief moment.

I exhaled. “Very well. If you really want an answer, I’d say yes. I’d be honoured to be protected by you.” I meant it. My parents had chosen him, after all.

His shoulders sagged, but he narrowed his gaze, as if he weren’t convinced I was telling the truth. As an awkward silence stretched between us, we didn’t move away from each other; our bodies were still close enough to touch.

I averted my gaze and slipped away from him. “I wish to go back to my cabin now.” Without waiting for him to say anything, I marched towards my room.

THE EFFECT OF the green potion wore off when Portugal swept into view on a clear morning. I was torn between suffering in silence and waiting stoically until we touched land, hoping the nausea would pass, or begging Rennie for another dose.

After our argument on the deck, we hadn’t talked much. But I didn’t want to meet Sandro while feeling sick. Also, I had to find a way to roam Lisbon alone because Rennie was going to follow me. Yes, I’d told him I agreed to have his protection, but I was free to choose when and where I wanted to be protected, wasn’t I? And he would either stop me from seeing Sandro or come with me. No, thank you. I wanted answers.

As the hilly coast of Portugal became more visible, I held my breath. The wind caressed my cheeks, carrying new scents other than the saltiness of the sea, and the air lost some of its mugginess. Passengers gathered on the deck, muttering excitedly. Tourist guides would be provided to accompany us through the city of Lisbon, and I hoped to slip away from the group of passengers. We were allowed to visit the city on our own as long as we were back on board before dark, so I wasn’t breaking any rules. My bodyguard was the problem.

Rennie stood next to me, his face a map of hard lines of worry. Despite the warm weather, he was wearing his grey suit, identical to the one my father wore to work.

I fiddled with my reticule and turned to him. “I don’t feel very well.”

He whipped his head towards me. “Do you prefer staying in your cabin? I don’t mind staying with you if you want.” Maybe it was my imagination, but there was a note of hope in his voice. “I can fetch you some tea and a book. Or ask the physician on board to have a look at you.”

If I agreed, he’d watch my every move. I had more chances of losing him in Lisbon. Although, his plan didn’t sound so terrible. A cup of tea and a good book. “No, I want to visit the city. I’d like some green potion if you still have it.”

“Of course.” He took out a vial from his breast pocket and handed it to me. “Only a small sip.”

“I know.”

The moment the green potion hit my tongue, my nausea vanished. Excitement flared up at the chance to see Sandro again and to have some answers. Energy rushed through my veins with a healthy dose of optimism. My sense of adventure grabbed me by the throat, chasing away my fears and insecurities. Yes, I could sneak away unnoticed and wander in a city I’d never been to before, filled with people who spoke a language I didn’t know, without getting lost, robbed, or killed. All to find an elusive prince, whom I wasn’t even sure was in Lisbon and who was potentially dangerous. Cup of tea. No more fear. I was a new woman. Yes, I was.

I searched the crowd of passengers for Mr Marston, but there were too many people. Rennie’s scrutiny was as thick as a blanket, but I did my best to ignore it. He could keep his secrets. I had mine.

“Better?” he asked.

I nodded, handing him the vial. I returned my attention to the sea while he stood next to me, stiff and serious. “Do you ever have a moment to rest and enjoy yourself?” I asked him, curious.

“Of course I do.”

“What do you like to do when you aren’t working?” I enjoyed the fact that, when asked questions that didn’t pertain to my parents, he answered them.

“I like sparring.”

“No? You? I would’ve never guessed,” I quipped, propping an elbow on the handrail.

He barked a throaty laugh. “And if I tell you I like whittling, would you be surprised?”

“Yes?”

“Look.” From his pocket, he fished out a few-inch-long wooden squirrel. Half of its body was still a piece of rough wood, but the details of the nose, bushy tail, and eyes were exquisite. It was hard to imagine his big hands capable of producing something so delicate and small.

“It’s beautiful. My word, you’re talented.”

He swallowed and put a hand on the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “Well, yes, thank you.” He pocketed the squirrel and avoided my gaze.

“Where did you learn?”

“At school. A boarding school.” His voice sounded distant and detached.

“It doesn’t seem like you were happy there.” I must have said something wrong because he pressed his lips together, every trace of the shy boy gone.

“We’ve nearly arrived,” he said, pointing at the land.

Fine. I didn’t press him. His past wasn’t a secret I wanted him to reveal to me unless he volunteered the information. So I waited.

We hadn’t nearly arrived.

It took the SS Florentia two hours to enter the port, and then another good hour passed before the attendants told us we could disembark.

“Do you want to follow the guide?” Rennie asked as we walked along the gangplank.

“Er, of course. It would be lovely.” I faked a smile.

“Perfect.”

A string of horse-pulled wagons waited for us on the platform. I climbed into one, followed by a brooding Rennie, and we drove towards the city. My mouth dropped open at the sight of the River Tagus. It must be ten times the width of the Thames because the opposite shore wasn’t visible. Cathedrals and colourful houses with red, green, and yellow walls streamed past us, casting their shadows on the cobbled street. Then Belém Tower swept into view, tall and majestic with its white and yellow stone bricks, and I forgot about my rendezvous. Even Rennie was watching the city, his scowl gone for once as he leant closer to the window.

“Is it the first time you’ve seen Lisbon?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He grinned, a smile that made me smile. “I haven’t travelled much. I’ve been to Paris once, for work, but aside from that, I’ve never left British soil.” There was something boyish and sad in the way he said it. My chest clenched a little for him.

“I’m glad looking after me is bringing you some joy,” I said. “At least this job gives you something new.”

And just like that, the scowl was back, but he didn’t say anything. He withdrew to a corner of the seat, brooding. Oh, well. I wouldn’t let his dark mood ruin mine. I was about to see Sandro again.

The road became steep. I grabbed hold of a rail as the wagon jolted. The caravan of wagons was crawling up a hill. Ugh. Their swinging and rocking were similar to those of the sea, and I sat back on my seat. My knees touched Rennie’s when the wagon lurched again. Immediate heat spilt into my cheeks as my body reminded me of his gentle fingers on my naked back. He shifted on his seat and inched away from me. After a few turns and more jolts, the wagon slowed. When we stepped out of it, the hot, dry air enveloped my body. Instead, Rennie seemed at ease in his suit.

The guide, dressed in a blue uniform with the symbol of the two stars on his chest, gestured towards the castle looming over us. Tall, thick walls, towers, and turrets partially obscured the sun.

“Gather around, passengers from the SS Florentia, ” the man said.

Feet shuffled and excited mutters spread.

The guide smiled. “St Jorge Castle was built during the Moorish occupation of Portugal...”

Distracted by Mr Marston, I didn’t hear the rest of the story. He was standing on the other side of the group, half-hidden behind a broad man. His hair caught the sunlight as he turned towards me. He touched the tip of his hat and bowed his head. I returned the greeting with a quick nod. Then he pointed a finger at the castle, wiggling his eyebrows before nodding again. So Sandro was there. My mouth grew dry. I forced my face to remain deadpan while my pulse sped up. My legs trembled when we started to walk along the stone bridge that led to the entrance. Rennie’s shoulder touched mine, and I jolted.

“Are you all right?” he asked, peering at me.

“Spectacular, thank you.”

He shot me a narrowed gaze.

I breathed harder when we climbed a stone staircase and finally stopped in a yard next to the statue of a lion. Rusty cannons were pointing towards the sea, and Rennie strode towards one—the least interesting feature of the castle, in my opinion. Who would look at a rusted metal piece when there was a magnificent stone lion? Anyway, he forgot about me. Good. Although the way he watched the cannon, muttering under his breath, made me wonder if he’d stare at a woman he liked in the same fashion. On second thought, who cared? Not me.

“Part of the castle is in ruins, due to an earthquake that struck the city in the eighteenth century,” the guide said.

But even damaged, the castle radiated power and strength. The view was stunning. The blue of the ocean mixed with the different colours of the city and—“Monia,” a velvety male voice whispered close to me.

I turned towards the voice. It was Mr Marston. “Edward, I mean, Mr Marston.”

He flashed a charming smirk. “Call me Edward, please.”

I glanced at Rennie, who was still gaping at the cannon, hands on his hips and mouth open as if he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful.

“I will,” I said.

Edward pointed a discreet finger to his left. “Follow that passageway and turn right. Sandro is waiting for you there.”

“Sandro is—thank you!” I squeezed his hand on impulse and, after checking that Rennie was still engrossed by the dull cannon, I scurried away. Escaping had been easier than I’d thought.

My heels clicked on the white stones as I half-ran, half-walked towards the end of the passageway. When I turned right and found myself in another cosy yard, Sandro’s name left my lips in a whisper. For a brief moment, I caught a glimpse of a tall, dark-haired man watching me from underneath the portico. Eyes the colour of midnight lured me in. I ran towards him, my feet barely touching the ground. “Sandro!”

But the image must have been a trick of the sunlight and my imagination because, when I blinked, he was gone. I skidded to a stop. Wisps of my hair escaped my bun and were brushing against my cheeks. I rushed from one corner of the yard to another, checking the stone columns that enclosed it, but no one was there.

“Sandro?” I called.

Only the breeze answered. I stomped a foot on the ground. Tarnation. I was sure I’d seen him.

“Monia!” Rennie’s deep voice thundered in the yard. His heavy footsteps were beating at an angry tempo.

Wheezing, I leant my back against the cool wall and silently cursed him.

Oh, he was furious, if the hard slant of his mouth and the ice in his gaze were any indication. But the crushing disappointment souring my mouth was too strong for me to care about his mood.

“Why did you leave the group?” He took my shoulders with gentle hands, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What are you doing here?” Fear sneaked into his words.

“Can’t I have a moment for myself? I’m a tourist. I was... touring.” Blazes, I’d never been a good liar, but at that moment, I sounded on the verge of madness.

“What were you doing here?” The tone of his voice dropped dangerously. The fear was gone, replaced by suspicion. His delicate touch on my shoulders was a stark contrast to the harshness in his question.

“You don’t answer any of my questions. I don’t see why I should answer yours.” I tried to shrug free, but he held me in place.

His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm enough to make me feel the strength of his fingers. “Monia, this is serious. Tell me the truth.” He sounded concerned now, but I didn’t care.

“Sorry, but I can’t.” Throwing back his words at him, I shrugged free from his grip.

“Monia,” he hissed, but I didn’t bother answering.

I rushed away from him, angry tears burning my eyes.