Captain and a Corset (3 page)

There were no matrons inside the Illuminist society. In fact, among her rights was the one to take a lover without repercussions. Sophia laughed, certain her mother’s ghost was going to appear any second to reprimand her for even thinking such a thing.

But
you’ve taken it a step further with thinking about how Bion might kiss you.

Sophia ground her teeth, not sure if she was exasperated or frustrated. She honestly wasn’t sure anymore. The first few months she had been a Novice had not seemed so difficult. She’d had classes to attend, like at a university, the difference being that among the Illuminists, females might study any subject from anatomy to the zodiac. Heat teased her cheeks when she recalled the one anatomy class she’d attended. She had expected a lecture and arrived to find the classroom full of scale models as well as two live ones.

She unbuttoned her maroon coat and caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror set above the sink. There was also a full-length one near the bathtub, but she’d draped a sheet over it, not wanting to see her entire body unclothed. Such was wicked, depraved, wanton…

Or at least that was what the matrons had whispered.

She drew in a deep breath and forced herself to look at her reflection in the mirror as she shrugged out of her coat. Her shoulders were smooth and sprinkled with tiny freckles. As far back as she could recall, her mother had insisted she wear a wide-brimmed hat to keep her face free of freckles to avoid being thought lowbred. In fact, everything she did was in an effort to avoid gossip and rumors. Her behavior had been constantly critiqued so that she might mend her ways before society labeled her something that might bring shame to the family.

Yet now, all of it was useless. The Illuminists were looked down upon by society, like the unfortunates who worked in the brothels or the Jews who kept to their own sections of town. Once a person began wearing the gold pin of the Illuminist Order, they were not received by the most respected members of society. There were exceptions—those who benefited from the Illuminist technology too much to look down their noses at them.

She turned the knob to fill the tub with water—it was nice, with a high back like a little slipper shoe. It was coated in white enamel and the water coming from the tap was the clearest she had ever seen. She cupped her hand beneath it, marveling at the pristine clearness. Only country homes—and the Illuminists—had such good water. According to one of her professors, they used a filtration system, but she’d not yet studied it. She did know how to use the twin levers attached to either side of the water pipe. She lifted them, and as she did so, the crystals in each lever began to react to one another. They formed a current and steam began to gently rise from the water coming from the tap. Once more she cupped the water, smiling at the temperature. A hot bath. So easily. There were advantages to being an Illuminist, no doubt about it.

She fussed with the busk closure on the front of her corset. The undergarment bothered her because she was used to making her own, which fit her perfectly. But every possession she had was lost to her now.

Another little dictate she’d learned from Bion Donkova. In all fairness, she shouldn’t be cross with him because Novices were not allowed contact with anyone outside the Order during their first year, but once more her temper flickered at just the idea of the man.

Maybe she should be concerned about her reaction to him. It was definitely volatile—as though there were something inside her straining against her hold on it. Her aunts would have labeled it “base,” uncivilized urges best squelched before they caused her to fall from grace. Doing so made her a lady, setting her above the common woman.

She’d been reared on such ideals, but the wonders of the Illuminist world surrounding her made it hard to hold on to such dictates. Science made sense, while her aunts’ sayings rarely did.

Her aunts were right about one thing: the feelings Bion unleashed inside her were proving uncontrollable.

Stepping into the tub, she sighed as the warm water covered her skin and warmed her toes. But once she was settled, the image of Bion returned. When it came to the man appearing in her thoughts, she seemed to have little discipline. He was so meticulous, in his maroon uniform with its gleaming buttons. He never appeared with even a single dull button, nor did his chin ever have a hint of stubble. Bion didn’t follow fashion, with its preference for sideburns and mustaches. His square-cut jaw was scraped clean and added to the polished image he presented.

But she’d seen another side of him—a savage side.

Heat teased her cheeks and it wasn’t due to the hot water. No, it was far worse than that. Young ladies did not blush at the memory of men behaving badly. In fact, ladies did not see the sort of struggles she’d witnessed. That sort of thing was kept well on the other side of parlor doors. Yet, she was not sorry she had seen it. Somehow, it felt personal, her knowledge of Bion’s true character. She liked the way it made her feel, even the way it rattled her composure, because there had been too much order in her life.

There. She’d confessed to her unladylike yearnings.

Sophia picked up a bar of soap and began to bathe. Her cheeks remained hot because Bion lingered in her thoughts, and tonight, it felt strangely intimate. As though the man were somehow aware of her fascination. Which was ridiculous of course. He was far too busy trying to mold her into his ideal of a Navigator. The man didn’t suffer from her lack of focus.

Yet even after finishing her bath and drying herself, she still glanced over her shoulder, looking around the room before pressing the controls for the lights. They dimmed before leaving her room in darkness. Sometimes, it felt like the man was her personal shadow. Now that it was dark, she might admit to being comforted by that fact. At least a bit, deep down, where uncertainty was still lodged inside her despite her best efforts to face her new life without faltering. No matter how frustrating the man was, it was still nice to go to sleep knowing her world would not be completely full of strangers in the morning. Bion Donkova was bound to be there.

But she still wasn’t sure if that pleased her or not.

***

The secured Novice wing of the dormitory was quiet. Bion stopped and looked at the logbook sitting neatly near the archways that held a collection of male Deep Earth Crystals. The only person who might cross the arch without an Illuminist pin was a Pure Spirit. There were still two Guardians posted to add more security to those Novices sleeping beyond the gate. Each coming and going was noted clearly on the creamy parchment of the log. He flipped open his pocket watch to compare the current time with the one printed next to Sophia’s entry.

She wouldn’t care to know how often he checked up on her. Seeing if she returned to her rooms directly after a training session or that she answered him truthfully when he asked where she’d gone the night before.

No, she wouldn’t be pleased at all, but he was. Their fledgling Navigator was everything the others on the waiting list for a Root Ball had proven they were. She had integrity and grit, but all that knowledge did was frustrate him.

He didn’t need to like her.

“I’m a respectable woman…”

Her words rose from his memory, offering him the perfect evidence to back up his opinion. No, liking her was something which would lead him down a path neither of them would like. For all that she was a Navigator, Miss Sophia Stevenson had been raised by upper society. He was uncouth in her eyes. A savage.

His lips twitched up and he walked through the arch to hide his lapse of control from the Guardians. Personally, he enjoyed knowing he wasn’t a gentleman. In his world, he had earned his place and didn’t long for the blessing of the matrons. What he was, he’d earned, not been born into. He didn’t judge his fellow humans by the circumstances of their birth. In the Illuminist world, a man could make his own fortune.

He stopped outside her door. Temptation urged him to reach for the handle and forego the brass knocker, the savage inside him delighting at the idea of surprising her.

He paused, his fingers closing into a fist.

He had the authority to enter her chambers, but the right was given to him to ensure she was not conducting treason, not to placate his own cravings. But there were instances lately when he was forgetting just why he was entering her chambers—or more pointedly, he was searching for an excuse to see her, so had no other reason.

Duty was something he’d devoted his life to. Tonight wouldn’t see him discarding those ideals in favor of following his impulses, whatever the hell they were… Sophia Stevenson was his trainee. Nothing more.

***

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Sophia opened her eyes instantly. “Janette?” She sat up to see her best friend pulling the curtains open.

“Janette, do not—”

Her warning came too late. The morning sun brightened the room, sending pain shooting through Sophia’s eyes. She jerked and closed her eyes, rolling over and reaching for her glasses, but they were not on the bedside table. Accidently, she knocked the lamp and heard it crash to the floor.

“Oh, Sophia, I’m terribly sorry. I forgot.” Janette yanked the curtains closed but did so too hard and the rod they were strung on came right off the wall. The rod and curtains joined the lamp on the floor, the polished wood surface accentuating the noise.

Sophia struggled to her knees, gasping when she heard hurried footfalls a mere second before the door to her bedroom burst open. She barely had time to grab the bedding to shield herself when she found herself face-to-face with Bion Donkova, with Darius Lawley a half step behind him. Both men were attired in suits, but at that moment they looked anything but civilized.

“We’re fine,” Janette offered apologetically. “I just forgot about her eyes being sensitive.”

“I am well enough, thank you.” The polite term felt awkward as Sophia’s cheeks burned scarlet. She remained clutching the bedding to her chin, squinting her eyes in the bright light.

Darius turned his back and retreated from the room, like a gentleman.

“I’ll find your glasses,” Janette said on her way out of the door.

“Your glasses should be placed on your nightstand.” Bion frowned at her.

His tone matched the formal picture he presented in his uniform coat buttoned to his collar. In contrast, her flimsy chemise was teasing the tops of her thighs beneath the bedding. The tops of her breasts were barely hidden by the sheet because her corset pushed them up to the edge of the chemise. The reprimand on his face did not fit with the impropriety of the moment.

For Christ’s sake, if a man was looming over her bed while she was indisposed… shouldn’t he be enamored of her? Or at the very least somewhat interested in charming her? But then again, it was Bion. Nothing about her pleased him.

“If your glasses were in the correct place, you would not have alarmed other members of the crew,” he admonished.

“We are not aboard one of your ships, Captain, and I certainly will not be taking advice from you on how I keep myself in my bedroom.” She rose up on her knees, the need to face him head-on burning through any protest her common sense might have made. “And I am not dressed, sir!”

“I’ve seen you in less.”

Her eyes widened, the deep tone of his voice setting off a ripple of excitement racing along her skin. Her mouth dropped open and satisfaction flickered in his dark eyes, the remains of her composure shredded. Bion Donkova had fast reflexes, but today she was faster. Her hand connected with his face, delivering a slap that resounded loudly in the morning air.

She expected him to be furious; instead, the man growled. The sound sent her back, the sheer maleness of it making her shiver. Challenge appeared in his eyes and his lips curved up into an arrogant smirk. For a moment, he looked very much like a pirate, the sort of man accustomed to being ruthless in the pursuit of what he craved.

He gripped the footrail of her bed and leaned forward. “But if you can’t tolerate the threat to your modesty, feel free to cry out. I’m sure Guardian Lawley will be happy to rescue you before you fall victim to a fit of vapors.”

Her temper boiled. If it were possible for steam to rise from her ears, it would have. But her pride refused to let his challenge pass. With a soft hiss, she forced herself to release the bedding and climb out of bed. The urge to tug her chemise up to cover more of her breasts was also squelched as she lifted her chin and shot him a scorching look.

“I can handle your gutter behavior quite well. Look as you will. All that proves is how much you deserve my contempt.”

She intended to walk past him, but he captured her wrist, his larger hand closing all the way around her limb. It wasn’t the first time he’d manhandled her, but for some reason she was acutely aware of how much strength he had today. Tension curled through her belly, teasing her with a flicker of heat she’d never experienced before. It was dark and tempting and almost irresistible.
Almost.

“Release me.”

He chuckled, amusement still flickering in his eyes. His grip tightened a mere fraction, almost as if he might disregard her demand.

Pirate… ruthless and without boundaries. Why had she never realized just what sort of nature he had hidden beneath his formal exterior and endless lectures about duty?

She was trembling, the realization of which cut through her outrage like a rapier. Something in his gaze made it look as if he was reading her thoughts, which was impossible. But she felt it nonetheless.

He pulled her closer, until they were mere inches apart. “I do believe I might just enjoy your attempts to handle my gutter behavior, Miss Stevenson.”

His voice was low and edged with warning. What flared up in the depths of his dark eyes made her shiver. He felt it, that telltale reaction through his grip on her wrist. He smoothed his thumb across the tender skin of her inner wrist before lifting her hand and boldly pressing a kiss against the same spot.

It was nothing like the kiss Jonathon Saddler had given her. This was scorching hot and it stole her breath. Her heart began to race, feeling as if it were straining to break free of her chest. Every bit of self-control she had seemed to be slipping through her fingers like sand, leaving her without anything to hold on to.