Free Kiss of Steel by Bec McMaster Page B

her. She pushed him away with a cry and clutched her arm to her chest as she put three staggering steps between them. There was a bruise forming on her wrist in the shape of his mouth. The sight of it stirred his blood. He’d put his mark on her. Dark satisfaction flavored the thought.
    Honoria stared at him through passion-glazed eyes. She looked vulnerable, and he realized that the cool mask of indifference she often wore was gone. As she rubbed hard at the mark on her wrist, her eyebrows drew together. She was not happy. He had slipped past her emphatic barriers, and she would never forget how easily he’d done it.
    “You…” With a growl, she gathered her papers up and stuck them in her satchel. “You have overstepped the line. That is not considered polite or acceptable. Good night.”
    “You forgot your cake,” he called as she turned to leave the room. “For your brother and sister.”
    With another angry glance, she returned to fold the cake neatly into a napkin. “You have two days. I advise that you learn some restraint.”
    And then she turned and stalked out, leaving him laughing behind her.
    ***
     
    “Miss Pryor, a word if I could?” Mr. Macy wrung his hands as he stood in the doorway, a habit she secretly found detestable.
    Honoria plastered a smile on her face and put her teacup down. She couldn’t help tugging at the sleeve of her gown, though she knew it covered the damning mark. Blade’s mark. She could feel his mouth on her skin as if he’d etched the sensation into her body. The thought made her angry—yes, angry —that she could not escape him.
    Her notes were spread across the polished surface of the walnut secretary desk, written in the spidery hand of the mechanical letter copier. She had just finished with Miss Lovett, who was making remarkable progress. The girl’s stammer had almost completely submerged, except in times of emotional duress, and she could recite the names of the Great Houses of the Echelon by rote: Malloryn, Casavian, Bleight, Lannister, Caine, Goethe, and Morioch.
    “Of course, Mr. Macy. I was just reviewing my notes on Miss Lovett. They say she’s caught the eye of Mr. George Fitzwilliam of the House of Lannister. A minor offshoot but a coup for the academy, sir.”
    Mr. Macy allowed himself a small smile. “Indeed.” Then it faded. He stepped into the parlor she’d been allocated for her lessons, shutting the doors behind him with meticulous care.
    Honoria felt the air deflate out of her and put the spring pen down, smoothing out her skirts. This was going to be a difficult talk, possibly disastrous. She could tell.
    Still, she kept the smile on her lips. “Would you care for some tea, sir?”
    “No, thank you.” Mr. Macy took his seat, sinking into the stuffed armchair. The drone hovered with the tea caddy, little puffs of steam erupting from the release valve on its head. “I’m afraid, Miss Pryor, that we need to have a serious discussion.”
    “I’m sorry, sir. I know yesterday was inexcusable. It won’t happen again, I promise. Charlie’s illness caught me by surprise. I didn’t—”
    “I’m not here to discuss your brother’s illness,” Mr. Macy said. His watery blue eyes met hers from behind his steel-rimmed glasses. “I had a rather alarming visit this morning from a dear friend of mine, Mr. Bromley. He said that he saw you passing through Aldgate three days ago after work, on your way out of the city.”
    Her stomach plummeted. Somehow she kept the smile in place.
    “I’m afraid it’s led me to question certain inconsistencies in your story, Miss Pryor.” He pulled a note from his pocket. “I sent a telegram to your reference in Oxford, Mrs. Grimthorpe. The response came back this afternoon.” His gaze met hers. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
    Oh, dear . “I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me, Mr. Macy. I’ve only ever had three days off, tending to Charlie, since I began working for you, and I’ve