Free Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) by Robert Appleton

what, pray?” Not obtuse, more evasive; he planted himself on the seat opposite her and avoided eye contact while he rubbed his gloved hands together and peered through a clear streak he’d made on the misting window. “I really did underestimate the chill. You are tolerably warm, McEwan?”
    “ As toast, sir. But I’ve resolved to visit the warmest place on earth for my next holiday—the northern hemisphere rather seems to have it in for me.”
    He chuckled behind his vigorous glove-rubbing. “ Where did you have in mind?” Sonja shrugged. “Oh, come now, give it your best shot,” he egged her on. “Remember my lecture on mind over matter, the physiological evidence?”
    Of course she did, or rather she recalled his delivery of it: loose and playful, for the first time really sta rting to engage the class, much to the chagrin of Dr. Gavin, their senior biology teacher who also happened to be a bald, creepy mesmerist every pupil in the school was scared stiff of. It was also the day she’d tripped into Mr. Auric, purposefully of course, and gasped as he’d caught her, hands on waist, lips almost touching, and spoken her first name: “Sonja...I mean McEwan, easy does it now.”
    “ How could I forget?” She smiled and coyly looked away when their glances met. “Oh very well, here’s my psychosomatic remedy for our little igloo ignominy: first...” His deep laugh only sweetened her exuberance, “... a week’s frolicking on a Bermudan beach, parasols and modesty optional, followed by the clearest, bluest, most fish-full snorkel swim in the Caribbean, probably off St. Lucia or Barbados.” Heavens, if her remedy was working on him as potently as it was her—and given the way his gaze discreetly poured over her body, perhaps conjuring her supple roundnesses beneath the winter wear, it appeared to be—Derek Auric would indeed have a distinct carnal inclination for her person right now. “And finally, a jungle trek to a paradise lagoon and waterfall where people wear scandalously little for—”
    He cleared his throat. “ Yes, well, that was most vivid, McEwan. I think that’s enough thawing for now.”
    Sonja groaned , but did he even realise how suggestive his quip was? He’d never made any kind of advance upon her, and rightly not, for he was a gentleman and would never abuse his authority over her, but could such obvious feelings...sparks...heat between two people ever be considered wrong? She knew nothing about such things. Did he even reciprocate her affection? He was fond of her, that much was obvious, but what else? Men were infuriating things—either too obvious when you’d rather not know or too inscrutable when a little insight might reassure. This fizzy alchemy between them, almost making her lose her head altogether at the mere thought of him close to her, where did it spring from? Both of them? Or from her alone?
    Don ’t let him off the hook so easily. Keep him talking until he declares himself one way or the other. If you don’t, it’ll torture you forever.
      “I feel terrible about Mrs. Prescott.” She eyed the canopy roof as it flexed and whumped against the brass ribs holding its form. “She seemed so full of beans throughout the walk, and then just like that—” The first tears of ripped stitching made her swallow. She eyed Mr. Auric worriedly.
    He perched on the edg e of his seat, biting his lip. His dull grey eyes pinwheeled as he watched the fray in the ceiling grow to a gaping wound, and considered his next course of action. “God, these winds are bloody-minded. I—we may need to reorganize if they get much worse. If the roofs should rip loose altogether...”
    A frightening thought. Bad enough to have to spend the night maro oned in a blizzard, but to be exposed to the elements as well. She fidgeted with the drawstring on her kagool, twining it around her finger. “Sir, are you in charge?”
    He shot her a cutting glance, as though the idea appalled him. “No.