Free Heart of Steel by Meljean Brook Page A

sister’s description of the biting cold that had come over the captain’s face before she’d shot Miracle Mattson.
    If she hadn’t believed that he’d kept her clothes on and his hands to himself, Archimedes knew he’d already be dead.
    â€œDo you intend to live, Mr. Fox?” Blissed, her accent was strong, but she didn’t slur the words.
    â€œI always intend to live, Captain.”
    â€œYou have a stupid way of going about it.”
    He grinned. “Not too stupid, as I’m still alive. Would I have been if I hadn’t dosed you with the opium? You’d have seen me rise up out of those crates, assumed I was a threat, and shot me.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have considered you a threat if you hadn’t ambushed me.”
    True. “But it wouldn’t have been as exciting.”
    This time, her smile didn’t show the edge of her teeth, but he wasn’t fool enough to consider himself safe. “Are you threatening me now, Mr. Fox?”
    Until he’d turned around and found her watching him, Archimedes had considered it. The threat would have been simple: If she didn’t turn the sketch over to him, he’d invite half of Port Fallow up to see her on his bed, wearing a slave bracelet. He wouldn’t have made good on the threat, of course. No one else would ever see her like this. But the moment Archimedes had met her eyes, he’d realized that she’d never forgive him for simply speaking that threat.
    Threatening her life was another matter entirely.
    â€œOf course I am.” He gestured to the room’s single window, which offered a moonlit view of her airship hovering over the water. “You’re going to invite me up to Lady Corsair and hand over the da Vinci.”
    â€œOr . . . ?”
    His gaze flicked to the bracelet. Constructed of copper, the segmented casing concealed the delicate clockworks and springs inside, as well as a dozen small needles that pierced skin and injected a deadly dose of poison. A terrible device, it had been outlawed in most of the New World—and in Port Fallow, was ridiculously easy to obtain. The bracelet could only be removed if the segments were rotated in the correct order; the wrong sequence activated the springs, injecting the poison.
    Of course, a bracelet that could be worn without fear wasn’t enough—a slave could run away and live, as long as he took care not to twist the segments. Something had to guarantee the property would come back.
    She sat up, running her fingers over the hairline joints in the copper casing. “Did you set the timer?”
    â€œFor one hour.”
    â€œThese contraptions are notoriously unreliable.”
    â€œSo am I.” He rose, ducking his head beneath the steeply sloped roof. “The bracelet flatters you. I wouldn’t bother to take these precautions with anyone else, but I know very well how quick you are.”
    After boarding her airship in Venice, he’d stood with his back to the rope ladder, pulled out his gun—useless though it was, the gunpowder soaked through—and aimed it at her. A moment later, Captain Corsair simply hadn’t been standing in that spot anymore. She hadn’t been anywhere on the deck. He’d barely had time to draw a breath before she’d come up behind him— up the outside hull of her ship —and dragged him over the gunwale.
    Her lips pursed. “So the bracelet is your revenge, then.”
    â€œRevenge because you threw me off your ship?” Did she think he blamed her for that? Surprised, he shook his head. Someone would have to wrong him before he’d ever take revenge. “You were justified. No, that bracelet is only to make certain that you don’t throw me off it again before you give me the sketch.”
    â€œI might still—and I’ll make certain to drop you to the ground rather than the water this time.”
    â€œAh!” Elation lifted