Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) by Kristin Bailey Page A

heir, aren’t you?”
    Lord Rathford had been our former employer and an Amusementist. He had surreptitiously invented a powerful and extremely dangerous invention, and then manipulated both Will and me into opening the locks that my grandfather had used to keep him from finishing his abomination and destroying the fabric of time itself. Rathford had been the last person to contact my grandfather. Rathford must have known something.
    After Lord Rathford’s death, his estate had been inherited by one of my fellow apprentices.
    “I can write Peter a letter. He wouldn’t have any objections to our searching the workshop.” It felt as if a heavy weight had been suddenly lifted from my chest.
    “No, Peter would not.” Will’s expression took on a roguish quality, which was accentuated by the ruggedness that suited him so well in Scotland. I felt the tremor of excitement deep in my middle. He was a very attractive man, and I was completely alone with him. I had to remember to keep a wary eye on my baser nature. I now knew how impetuous it could be.
    Will hammered at the door, realigning the broken latch. Then he set to work on the frame. “Peter’s mother might have some objections to your spending time in a secret workshop alone with an unmarried Scot and her son.”
    “That’s a very good point. We can’t do much confined to the parlor while under the eye of a chaperone.” Peter’s family was forced to endure a lot of scrutiny from the Order and needed to maintain the strictest propriety to avoid scandal. “I’ll still write him. He’ll know the best way around his mother. Would you deliver the letter to him on your way to Oliver’s town house?”
    “Of course.”
    I took a sheet of paper out of my counting desk and penned a quick letter explaining the situation to Peter, then sealed it and handed it to Will. He tucked it into his sporran.
    I stood before Will, unsure of what to do with myself. Now that the house was in order, the impropriety of being alone with him had suddenly come into stark relief.
    “You should be going,” I mumbled. The wind outside made the house creak. I didn’t want him to go, but he had already stayed most of the night, and if anyone saw him leave the shop in the morning, I would be ruined.
    Instead he took my hand and led me back to the restored parlor, where hot tea waited on the table.
    “We’ve been working all night. Let’s just take a moment,” he murmured as he took a seat.
    I found myself watching his lips. I’d be too tempted.
    Far too tempted.
    He reached out and touched my arm above the elbow. His fingers slid down the length of my forearm until they wrapped gently around my hand. He drew me in, and I was helpless to resist.
    “You can trust me, you know.” He curled his warm fingers under my tender palm and placed a chivalrous kiss on the back of my hand.
    “I fear I can’t trust myself,” I whispered. “I’m not ready for this.”
    Will’s gaze turned up beneath the dark fringe of his thick lashes. We seemed to breathe as one being, slow heavy breaths that carried the weight of the longing between us. “I understand.”
    He pulled me forward and onto the seat. I curled my body into his and rested my head over the beating of his heart. He held me and stroked my arm as we watched the fire dance in the hearth.
    If only we could stay this way forever. I had never felt so filled with contentment. Will began humming a tune. The sound resonated through his body as I kept my head close to his heart. Eventually he sang. It was the same melancholy tune he had sung to the horses when I’d entered the carriage house a year ago.
    I wanted to marry this man. I wanted a million nights like this without having to push him away, but it wasn’t our time. Not yet. Four long years where I served as an apprentice stood between us, and I wasn’t so naïve to think our lives couldn’t change in that time. As I listened to him sing, four years seemed such a terrible long