Page 9 of Til Death Duke Us Part
“Shh. There’s someone coming down the hall. From lower.”
She nodded and swatted his hand away then peeked through the small crack he’d left between the golden door and the frame. Too bad he couldn’t steal the door; then at least they’d be through with this interminable torment.
The duke settled in behind her, his body pressing against hers so well she could feel the hard muscles of his thighs, the taut planes of his abdomen. It had been so long since she’d touched a man. She missed it. She missed the large hardness of them, the way all that mass made her feel safe, how—when applied gently—it had made her feel loved. The man at her back offered none of that, even if he wasn’t what she expected. Transcendent men, she’d heard, were soft and willowy. This man was anything but. He was shaped more like an alchemist—hard lines and useful muscle.
Morington was shaped like the man walking down the passageway in the semi-dark. When the large shadow passed through the fairy orbs closest the door, she saw his face just before Morington pulled her farther into the shadows of the tomb. She swallowed a gasp and rolled her lips between her teeth to keep silent. When the man had disappeared into the darkness, she couldn’t help but drop her jaw.
“You know him?” Morington asked, studying her face as he stepped away from her.
“He’s the Master of the Alchemist Guild. Mr. Stone.”
“He carried a satchel. Full. Lumpy. I think we found our thief.”
“No. Absolutely not. He would never. He’s our leader. He’s… he’s… No. Just no.”
Morington leaned a shoulder against a wall. “Wonder how far he’s gotten. There’s still more loot lower in this damned crypt. That much is clear. Who the hell knows how far down we have to go to get it. And then… are they older down below? The inventions?”
She nodded. “You mean the dead.”
“No, I don’t. Hm. Older. Then they might be useless. A man who invents something and hides it away hundreds of years ago is not likely to be the only man to think of such an invention in all that time.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She’d heard many stories about how grandpa’s death work had been created in someone else’s forge after his death.
He scratched a hand down his face. “Let’s go then. No use staying here anymore.”
She almost skipped all the way up the stairs and out of the mausoleum. The dim light of morning made her blink, and she rubbed her eyes then clapped them together, taking a deep breath of early morning air.
“It has been an absolutely horrible time meeting you, your grace. I hope to never meet you again, I hope your progeny suffer a cursed existence for your disrespect toward the dead, and with that, I bid you goodbye.” She marched off toward the cemetery entrance.
Tried to.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home!”
“No, you’re not. You’re taking me to another graveyard.”
“I am not!”
“You are. Surely there are other Alchemist resting places in East London.”
“There are, but you won’t like what you find there. This one is where the big names are buried, the ones with money and power and education. The grave work you find at another cemetery would not be valuable to you. Now release me!” She yanked her arm.
But Morington held fast. “Where then? Surely there’s another city, another place, another?—”
“All the way in bloody Manchester, you arse. I welcome you to go there. But I’m not going with you.”
“You are.” He clasped her wrist and held it up between them. “I need this hand.”
“Then cut it off me.”
He reared back, disgust twisting across his face. “I’m ruthless not murderous.”
“Good to know there’s honor among thieves.”
He shrugged. “Not much, but when you have a title like mine, you must maintain some dignity.” His grip on her wrist loosened, and he looped their arms together. “Come along. I’ll take you to your home first so you clean that dirt off you and gather some personal belongings, then we’ll be off.”
“I’m not coming with you.” But he was guiding her toward the cemetery entrance, so she set her steps to his long strides. She’d escape once they were in the street.
