Mayhew’s words were indistinct. Rand raised his head and realized the noise from the crowd had grown. The Prince and his entourage must be on the point of moving on.
His jaw clenching, Rand ducked his head and worked feverishly to ease the knot, but everything he did only seemed to pull it tighter.
Distantly, he heard Mayhew swear about silken knots.
Then Mayhew asked, his words faint but clear, “Cavanaugh—what will happen if these valves are still tied down when the engine starts?”
Rand’s jaw couldn’t clench any tighter. His eyes felt like they were burning, he was concentrating so fiercely on the silk band. “Nothing initially.” His tone, strangely, sounded entirely even. “But then the boiler will explode.”
/> “Explode?” Mayhew squeaked.
“Quite spectacularly.” Rand was barely aware of what he was saying, so focused was he on the knot.
Then with a rustling of skirts and petticoats, Felicia crouched beside him. “What...?” Her hand on his shoulder, her eyes had gone to the tie he was wrestling with. “Good God—is that silk?”
“Yes! And the damned knot has pulled tight.” Rand was dimly aware her hand had gone from his shoulder; a glimpse from the corner of his eye showed she’d grabbed her reticule and was desperately hunting inside it. “I can’t get this undone.” Through gritted teeth, he ground out, “Go and tell William John to wait for my signal before starting—”
The coal igniter flared, flames whooshed, and the boiler rattled to life.
Rand cursed.
Then Mayhew called, “I’ve got it!”
He pushed out from under the carriage, triumphantly brandishing the white scrap like a flag.
Felicia spared him a shocked glance, then her features hardened, and she returned to ferreting in the depths of her reticule.
The tone of the engine changed as the pressure in the boiler built, but William John hadn’t yet engaged the pistons and gears.
Without pausing in his desperate tugging at the silk band, Rand shot Mayhew a glance. “Get Miss Throgmorton out of here. Felicia—tell William John to shut the engine down and get everyone back.” The steam engine was going to blow—and the Prince was mere yards away, along with Ryder, Mary, and a host of others Rand cared far too much about.
“Don’t be daft.” Felicia dropped her reticule and waved a pair of embroidery scissors. “Let me at it.”
She pushed his shoulder to make him move aside, and despite every instinct screaming against it, Rand gave way.
The pitch of the engine continued to rise.
Felicia leaned in. “Keep holding the band taut. That’s it.”
A split second later, the band slid free.
The silk clutched in one hand, Rand fell back, sprawling to sit on the floor. Felicia overbalanced, toppled backward, and sat beside him.
Still crouching alongside the steam carriage, Mayhew looked at them with wide eyes. Now what? he mouthed.
Rand held up a staying hand. Both he and Felicia were listening intently to the sound of the engine.
Then Felicia grinned and turned to him. She reached for his arm and gripped hard. “The pressure’s leveled off—it’s going to be all right.”
He stared at her face, then he raised a hand to her nape, pulled her face to his, and kissed her.
For one second, he allowed the violent need that owned him to hold sway, to take control of the kiss and ravage and plunder, then he pulled back.
Mayhew had averted his eyes, looking upward as if listening to William John, who was giving Prince Albert a lecture on the Throgmorton engine’s finer points. The engine was now purring, a reassuringly benign and steady hum.
Felicia crawled back to the side of the carriage and carefully and silently closed the compartment Rand had opened.
Seconds later, they heard William John, closer now, open the engine’s other side and then lift the cover over the engine’s top to display the inner workings to Albert, who was predictably taking a very keen interest and asking relevant questions.