Clockwork Captive by Anh Leod

also writes as Heather Hiestand. Find Heather Hiestand online:
    Website: http://www.heatherhiestand.com
    Blog: http://blog.heatherhiestand.com
    Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/hahiestand
    Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-HiestandAnh-Leod/24271017921?ref=ts

 
     
     
     
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MORE BY ANH LEOD
     
    Anthologies:
     
    Even Naughtier Nuptials
    Some Like it Sweet
     
    Novellas:
     
    Lucky Number Seven
    Bijou’s Bonds
    Fire Wolf
    Aphrodite’s Necklace
    Aphrodite’s Tattoo
    Ex Factor
    Men of Myth:  Claudia’s Pleasure
    Playing Lycan Games
    Christmas a Go-Go
    Clockwork Captive
     
    Novels:
     
    Recreating John Doe
    Men of Myth:  Cherokee’s Playmates
    Men of Myth:  Holly’s Pledge
    MORE BY HEATHER HIESTAND
     
    Anthologies:
     
    “The Burro” in Murder Across the Map
    “Victoriana” in Holiday in the Heart
    Looking Forward, Looking Back and Other Stories
    “The Bachelor” in Cupid Gone Wild
     
    Novellas:
     
    Victoriana Adventure
    Steampunk Smugglers 1:  Captain Andrew’s Flying Christmas
    Steampunk Smugglers 2:  Captain Fenna’s Dirigible Valentine
     
    Novels:
     
    Cards Never Lie
    One Juror Down
    Gunshot Grange
    Two on the Hunt
    In Flight

 
    Read an excerpt from Heather Hiestand’s Steampunk Smugglers romantic steampunk series
     
    Captain Andrew’s Flying Christmas is available now
    CHAPTER ONE
     
     
    London, December 24, 1892
    Linet Fenna shivered in her attic bedroom as she stared out the open window. Downstairs, all was merry and bright with evergreen branches, mistletoe and handmade garlands festooning trees and mantles. Under the eaves here, wind blew through a crack in the undecorated wall and rustled in the chimneys above.
    A fever had made the first housemaid take to bed just after breakfast and Linet, the second housemaid, had been run ragged all day by her demanding mistress and her ever-arriving family. Now, finally done with work, she just wanted to stare at the stars and dream.
    “Close the window,” Ann-Marie said, coughing from her iron bedstead in the darkest corner of the room.
    “In a minute.” Linet took one last breath of chilly air and had her hand on the sill when she heard a metallic chugging in the distance. The sound came from outside, and wasn’t likely to be Father Christmas.
    The automen who secured England for Prime Minister Gladstone had yet to master the skies. Linet had once known the world above the streets well, as daughter of the famed smuggler Rhys Fenna. Some had called him a sky pirate, and his neck had been broken on a gibbet three Boxing Days ago. She had become a maid of all work to support herself in the aftermath of his death. This position in a larger home had seemed a blessing at first until she realized she’d moved into a house owned by an automen manufacturer. The factory, only steps away, belched smoke and steam into the air at all hours, and it kept the brass fist of authority ever alive in her mind.
    As Ann-Marie coughed behind her, Linet pulled at the tight high collar of her black dress and leaned forward into the open window, looking for the source of the sound. She darted back a step instinctively when something pinged against the glass above her head. A bird? Surely none were about at this late hour.
    When she looked up, the astonishing sight took her back three years. No wonder she’d heard chugging. “A ladder?” she whispered.
    “What?” Ann-Marie croaked.
    “Nothing, go to sleep.” Linet hurried to the washstand by the sick girl’s bed and blew out the candle. “There, that’s better. You need to rest. I can’t manage alone with all these guests.”
    “Do you want to go to sleep so soon?”
    “Of course. That will make Father Christmas