Erotica Fantastica

HEART OF THE DAEDALUS

Moonlight carved an eerie path through the low-lying landscape of the Romney Marshes, solidifying the patches of mist that gathered over the sodden ground. The area was riddled with inlets of water and bog, making a treacherous journey for anyone who dared go there. Nina Ashford scanned the ground ahead and soothed her mount, encouraging the horse along the narrow path. It was a familiar track to Nina for she had grown up in a nearby village, but it was dangerous nonetheless. Her mount huffed on the cold night air, picking its way carefully.

The clear sky was in her favor, which was some mercy, but her attire was not. She'd come straight from a formal supper and hadn't had time to change out of her best evening gown. Word had reached her of the whereabouts of the Daedalus and she'd grasped the opportunity to view it in secret. Fetching her cloak, she'd paused only to strap her pistol to her ankle boot and her sword to her flank—wary of brigands and smugglers on the marshes—then raced out into the night lest the Daedalus be moved elsewhere. The man who had so callously stolen her designs for the machine had enormous wealth at his disposal. He could easily toy with it then cast it aside. The knot in her chest tightened as she thought on it, but it only served to strengthen her resolve. She had to see her beloved creation, now. Pursing her lips, she pressed on determinedly.

Up ahead she spied her quarry, a smuggler's den—a long and low shelter in a dug out pit, built from old planks covered over with slabs of peat and tuft of grass to conceal the moorings and storage space within. It was here that she'd been told the prototype had been hidden. The machine had been engineered and built elsewhere, so why was it here? The question went unanswered as the lure of the Daedalus drew her on. A steady plume of smoke rose from the rear of the shelter, making her wary. Her informant, an old friend, had told her no guards had been employed. Apparently it had been deemed unnecessary in this lonely, barren place. However, Nina approached with caution. Dismounting, she secured her horse beneath a cluster of trees and edged closer to the ramshackle building by foot.

At the entrance she peered inside the gloomy interior. Somewhere a light shone. As she became accustomed to the limited light she realized it was coming from inside the huge metal construction. Her breath caught as her chin lifted to take in the outline of the immense machine. Mine. Her sense of pride swelled. How she had pored over drawings of this creation, this beautiful machine. Inspired by her research on insects, she had imagined a machine that would emulate their ability to react, to leap, to track, and to hunt. And here it was—part spider, part praying mantis, engineered in metal and powered by combustion engine.

The pod-like body was designed to rise from the ground on eight legs, strong but spindly, each leg made invincible by internal springs that provided enormous flexibility. She wrapped her hand around one of the legs, her emotions running high. It had been a fanciful artistic creation, but seeing it constructed in solid metal took her breath away. Awestruck, she made her way around the machine. At the side she heard the low throb of the combustion engine. She ran her hand along the underbelly and felt its heat. Smiling fondly, she felt as if she had been reunited with long-lost kin. She'd come there angry, possessive and thwarted, and yet seeing her design realized as a complete construction made her hands tremble with excitement.

At the rear of the machine she found a metal ladder that dropped from the vessel to the ground. It wouldn't hurt to have a quick look, she decided, then hitched her skirts and clambered up. Cautiously, she opened the hatch. Inside it was gloomy, but toward the front of the pod an oil lamp stood on a brass surface, giving out a warm, inviting light. She paused, still wary, but heard no sound other than the low rumble of the combustion engine in dormant mode. Unable to resist, she climbed inside.

Nothing could have prepared her for the beauty of the interior. Where solid sheets of sturdy welded metal studded with bolts and rivets characterized the exterior, inside it was all gleaming brass dials and copper pipes. The construction was immaculate and finished to a high standard. She darted over to the control panel and ran her fingers along the casement. She was so fascinated that she did not sense the human presence behind her, not until it was too late. When she did she tensed and turned on her heel.

The man rose from a seat in the darkness beyond the hatch.

Her hand went to the pommel of her sword.

"What have we here," the man drawled, "a thief in the night who dares to touch my precious creation?"

The statement was meant to provoke, she knew that. Nevertheless her anger flared. "I am no thief." She drew her sword, pointing it around the gleaming interior of the Daedalus. "What is this, if not theft of my design?"

He laughed softly.

She assumed an en garde position, challenging him.

He stepped into the fall of light. Built tall and large, he towered over her. She cast an eye over his greatcoat and polished knee-length boots, taking in the fitted breeches and open necked shirt beneath. His dark hair fell loosely to his shoulders and his eyes were shadowed under drawn-down brows. Stubble marked his jaw. The rugged build of his features looked starker still in the half light. The sight of him made her will strong and her legs weak.

"Thief!" she declared.

He moved swiftly, his sword out and clashing against hers. "And you?" he responded, with amusement. "Lurking on the marshes in the midnight hours, like a common smuggler." With consummate skill he traded thrusts and parries with her, his blade ringing against hers.

Her heart raced wildly, but gritty determination to equal him drove her on.

He nodded approvingly at her maneuvers. "I have to admit your fencing has improved som

ewhat since our last meeting, my dear."

Nina smiled. She had been taking lessons. However his compliment distracted her and before she could draw breath he knocked the sword from her hand. Cursing, she glared at him. His blade flashed again, splicing the fabric of her bodice between her breasts.

Furious, she backed away and clutched her hands to the polished brass panel behind her. "Dishonorable as ever, I see, Dominic Bartleby."

"Particularly where you are concerned, my beauty." He ran the tip of his finely crafted blade into the torn fabric at her cleavage, as if daring her to move.

She glared down at her torn gown. He'd done it on purpose. "I suppose you find that entertaining?"

"Very." He laughed softly. "And I do like to see that wild flush in your cheeks."

In an attempt to stifle the rise and fall of her chest, she bit into her lower lip.

When the blade skimmed over the surface of her corset, a quiet moan escaped her.

Dominic raised an eyebrow, his mouth lifting in a sardonic smile.

"You never did play fair," she stated. Smarting, she pushed his blade aside and covered her torn gown with her cloak. "The least you can do is allow me to experience the Daedalus now that it has been built."

He stepped back and bowed, but his pleasured smile didn't escape her notice. He wanted this—he wanted her to be needy and grateful for the chance to see it and touch her own creation. How infuriating it was to have been caught here. Even so, her body responded as it always did to his proximity and attitude, as if his very presence infected her blood with a fever of longing that she could neither deny nor ignore. Damn him. Bracing herself for his mockery and cheek, she took another look at the control area of the vessel, studiously avoiding the place where he stood. "Why did you do it? Why did you build it?""

He took an age before he responded. "Because it was a superlative design."

She shot him a glance. He'd teased her about her designs, calling them impossible frippery. She'd always known that his engineering skills could make them solid and true, but he'd not taken her seriously when they'd been together. "The real reason."

He nodded, deferring to her skepticism. "Your design was outrageous…wild, and seemingly unattainable." His gaze roved over her. "It was perfect in every other way."

He met her stare. She scowled at him.

"The Crimean war raised many issues," he continued in a more serious tone. "The world is changing. Britain may be an empire and an island but our coastline is still vulnerable. I presented your design to Parliament and offered to build a prototype from my own funds. I suggested it could be used to guard shallow waters and low-lying areas such as this, the Romney Marshes, places that would be our frontline if invasion should threaten." He gave a sardonic smile. "Given the problem we already have with smugglers here on the marshes, Parliament practically snatched the contract from my fingertips."