Page 76 of The Last Necromancer
"Wait, sir."
He stopped in the narrow, dark service corridor and waited until I was alongside him.
"I want to help. I owe you for taking me in."
"You don't. The circumstances under which you came here…were not ideal. It should negate any gratitude you feel. It's I who should be thanking you."
"True," I said lightly.
He huffed out a breath that might or might not have been a laugh. "Thank you, Charlie, for not shooting me in the head."
I shivered at the memory of having nearly killed him. A few inches to the left and the bullet would have pierced his heart. I folded my arms against the chill.
"Charlie," he said softly. "It was a joke."
"Not a very funny one."
He sighed. "I'm unused to making jokes. I apologize. I'll hold my tongue next time."
"No! Don't do that. I prefer your unfunny jokes to none at all." I liked that he was telling jokes when he ordinarily didn't. It felt like he was trying just for me.
"You'll change your mind soon enough."
I wasn't sure if that was meant as a joke too, so I laughed anyway, just in case. "Sir," I said, peering up at him, "what will happen to me after Frankenstein is caught and this is over? I don't wish to live with Lady Harcourt, and I can't go back to the streets."
"No, you can't."
"I'd like to stay here."
"That has yet to be decided."
"Who decides? You?"
"I make all the decisions regarding the ministry and Lichfield Towers."
"Don't tell Lord Gillingham that. He seems to think you're an underling."
"Don't be afraid of Gillingham. He's an old goat in an expensive suit, nothing more."
"I don't want you to incur his wrath if I stay here."
"I can cope with Gillingham's wrath, and anyone else's censure. If I decide that you are to stay, that is."
"Don't send me away," I whispered. It was suddenly so hard to hold myself together. Mere days ago, all I'd wanted was to get away from Lichfield. But now, the thought of leaving was unbearable.
We stood so close that I could feel the heat of him. I was aware of his every breath, every shift of muscle, and my aching response to him.
"Charlie," he said on a sigh, "staying here may not be in your best interests."
"How can it not be?"
His gaze wandered over the top of my head, toward the scullery where three deep, quiet voices hummed in conversation.
"You are entirely wrong, Lincoln."
His gaze flew to mine.
"I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong." I thrust my hand on my hip, angrier now. Good. I preferred anger to the pathetic whine I heard in my voice moments ago. "I am capable of taking care of myself, and I am also not going to succumb to teasing flattery from the men. I'd hoped you thought me better than that."
