Kathleen Y'Barbo (40 page)

Looking up, she noted lamps hanging at regular intervals from beams spanning the width of the room. Each set of lamps was situated exactly to produce the best light on the table below. “Oh, Kyle. This is...”

He came to stand beside her. “Yes, it is.” A nudge and he had her attention. “Come and experience the grand tour.”

And grand it was. From one end of the room to the other, he amazed her with the contents of the vast space. Finally they came to the end, and Millie was speechless, her head swimming with ideas.

“How do you decide what you will work on first?” she asked as she settled onto a settee in a seating area built into the half-circle of windows at the far end of the workroom.

Kyle sprawled on the chair opposite her, a grin touching his lips. “It is a nice problem to have. Now, about your locket and the foolscap. I have the photograph, and I want to try something.” He nodded toward the center of the room. “Come see my cryptography machine.”

“Oh?” She rose and followed him, weaving around tables and all sorts of equipment, some of which she could identify and some she could not.

He stopped in front of a device that looked like an oversized box with
brass plates inside and some sort of mechanism attaching one to the other. “It is only a prototype,” he hedged, “but I want to see if we can get some sort of code off of the message written on the back of the miniature.”

He retrieved the photograph and held it up to show her. “If you will read the inscription exactly as it is written, I will see if there is any possibility of a code there.”

She did and then watched in awe as he manipulated the letters and then cranked the dials to cause the machine to begin making a low humming noise. Carefully covering the box with another piece of wood, Kyle stepped back, presumably to wait for some sort of result. After a few minutes, the noise stopped and he opened the box.

His expression of disappointment showed quickly. “Nothing.”

“Oh, well.” Millie set the photograph aside. “I suppose that would have been too easy.”

“I suppose,” he said as he stepped away from the worktable. “Now that you have seen my workshop, may I interest you in some dinner?”

She paused to choose her words carefully. “While dinner does sound lovely, the thought of spending just a little more time in here...” She looked up to meet his amused expression. “I have to admit I am fascinated with all of this.”

“So you would like to stay here a little longer?”

Millie laughed. “I could stay here all night.”

“I do not think my mother would approve.” He gave her a sideways look. “And speaking of my mother, what did you say to her? She came downstairs smiling, and though I cannot recall the last time I had a woman who was not a relative staying under my roof, I can recall in excruciating detail the times my mother has sent someone away crying.”

“Honestly, I do not know.” She leaned against the worktable. “Maybe she just likes me.”

“No, that cannot be it. My mother does not like any woman she thinks may have designs on me.”

Her smile gave her away.

“Oh, so that’s it. You convinced her you had no designs on me. Very clever.”

“But I do not.” Millie wanted the statement to be true. And yet, if pressed, she might have to admit she did indeed have something that might be the beginning of designs. Not that she would act on them. But it was definitely time to change the subject.

“I wonder if tomorrow I could arrange a visit with my newly discovered relative.” She glanced his way. “That is, if you would not mind giving me assistance in finding the address.”

“You will not go alone,” he said, and from the look of it, his final word on the subject.

“Thank you. I have no assurance she is still there or that she will agree to see me. But if she does, and she actually knows something of my grandmother and the treasure, then we may have a solution very soon.”

Kyle reached to pat the top of her hand with his palm, and the warmth instantly calmed her. When he removed his hand, she felt its absence keenly.

“So, of all these projects,” she said with a sweep of her hand, “which is the one you are most keen to work on next?”

“Clever. And yet I am going to allow you to get away with that diversion because I do have something over here I think you will find fascinating. Come this way, Empress.”

Her laughter echoed in the vast cavern of a room. “Now see here. Do not get carried away with this emperor and empress designation. I never officially accepted the title.”

“Shall we have a swearing-in ceremony then?” He reached behind him and retrieved a length of copper piping that had been capped with some sort of red wax. Emerging from the wax were electrical wires in a rainbow of colors.

“Your scepter, m’lady,” he said in an exaggerated accent.

Millie looked askance at the makeshift scepter. “And if I do not accept?”

Kyle affected what she assumed was supposed to be an angry expression. “Then you shall risk invoking the wrath of the emperor.”

Again, she could only laugh. “Well, I believe I have already done that by shooting his balloon, so I am not sure what I should be concerned with.”

“That’s true,” he said as he cast the pipe aside. “I suppose I shall have to continue on as emperor without an empress. It is a sad day.”

“Oh, come on,” she said as she nudged him with her shoulder. “What do you say I accept the position on an honorary and temporary basis? Then will you forgive me?”

“Consider yourself forgiven. Come and see this.”

Hours went by as Kyle answered Millie’s questions about the projects and drawings he showed her. She gave surprisingly good advice and even repaired an issue with the ladies’ automatic umbrella he had been struggling with.

Finally he stepped back and removed his pocket watch to check the time. “Millie, we have officially missed dinner.”

Hunched over a page of calculations, she didn’t even spare him a look. “Oh?” was all she said when he repeated his statement.

He came to stand beside her. When she continued to work on her mathematic calculations, he sighed. And then the page slid away from beneath her pencil.

“Come back with that,” she said as she watched Kyle walk away, the paper dangling from his hand.

“Tomorrow, Millie,” he said as he turned to face her. “All of this will still be here tomorrow, but tonight we must eat.”

Her stomach had rumbled a few times, a situation easily ignored. However, Kyle Russell was not easily ignored, and that trumped her lack of concern for dining. So she returned the pencil to its place and walked toward her fellow scientist.

He set the paper aside with a smile and offered her his arm. Together they walked to the elevator. While he twirled the dial to open the door, Millie turned back to look at the workshop one last time.

Indeed, the room would still be here tomorrow. However, she wouldn’t take anything for granted since her father burned her dreams. Thus, if tomorrow all of this vanished...

“Millie?”

He pulled her into the elevator and drew her close as the doors closed. This time he didn’t bother with the personal lantern. Instead, he just held her hand as the lift descended.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the dark.

“For what?” was his soft reply.

“For sharing.”

His chuckle warmed her heart. “You’re welcome. But, Millie...”

“Yes?” she said as she felt the lift slow to a stop.

“I am the one who should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

The doors opened but he remained in place. “For...”

“Kyle?” She squeezed his hand. “Are you all right?”

He was not, but he could not possibly tell her that. He had already come close enough to telling her far too much anyway. But standing side by side in the elevator, her hand feeling so small and warm in his, he had almost blurted out things he had no business speaking aloud. Such as the reason he ought to be thanking her.

Going through the motions of releasing the lock on the door and escorting Millie out consumed precious little of his time. Too soon he found her looking at him, waiting.

And he still had plenty to say. But now was neither the time nor the place to tell her that on that elevator ride down from the workshop, he had felt like a king holding her hand.

Like emperor to her empress.

Husband to her wife.

And that thought terrified him, especially with the specter of Silas Cope’s potential legal entanglements looming large.

“Kyle?”

“Oh, yes. Sorry.” He reset the lock and then stepped away to allow the panel to close over the door. “What say you to a midnight supper, Millie? Just the two of us.”

She grinned. “Lead on.”

And so he did, escorting her toward the kitchen he had built onto the back of the home just last summer. It was a spacious and modern room with the latest in gadgets, few of which his staff were willing to use.

“Is this a machine that makes coffee?” Millie asked as she wandered toward the far side of the room.

“It is. That was Lucas’s idea. He swears the day will come when a man will not want to wait for a cup to brew the old-fashioned way.” Kyle shrugged. “I’m not much for it, but my father claims it makes the best coffee he’s ever tasted.”

Millie met his gaze. “I am not much of a coffee drinker either, so I will have to take your father’s word for it.” She moved on, tracing the pattern on the carved marble backsplash and then toying with the hot and cold nozzles on the sink.

Meanwhile, Kyle put together a decent meal from the remains of what might have been the evening’s formal dinner. Then he motioned to the stool he had pulled up to the slablike marble counter in the center of the room. “I have shrimp gumbo over rice, fried soft-shell crabs, and what is this?” He lifted the lid on a Wedgewood serving bowl and grinned. “Bread pudding for dessert.”

At her blank stare, he said, “You have never had any of this, have you?”

Millie shook her head, but her smile told him she was willing to give these strange foods a try. When she had settled onto the stool, he placed the feast in front of her.

“Where do I start?” she asked with a laugh. “With the soup, I suppose.”

“That is not soup. That is gumbo, and yes, there is a difference.”

“All right. Please educate me.”

“Watch and learn,” he said as he retrieved a bowl and placed a generous portion of rice in the bottom. Then came the gumbo, and after that he topped the mound with an unusual-looking garnish.

She took the container from his hand and wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

“Ground sassafras root. Best thing in the world on shrimp gumbo. Go ahead. Try it.”

“Oh,” she said when she had tasted her first bite of gumbo. “This is good.”

Kyle could only nod because his mouth was full of the best thing he had eaten all day. When he heard Millie’s spoon clatter, he looked over to see she had emptied her bowl.

“Looks like you were hungry after all.”

“I was curious,” she corrected. “And that led to hungry.”

“Fair enough. Now for the soft-shell crabs.” He collected two plates and set them out, filling each with cold fried crabs.

Millie studied the plate before her and then looked at him. “I give up. How do I eat these?”

“With your hands. Like this.” And then he demonstrated, making short work of eating the crab.

“You ate the whole thing!”

He nodded. “The shell is soft and edible.” He paused. “Hence the name.”

This time when she sampled the dish, Millie did not dig in with the same enthusiasm. Instead, she nibbled daintily.

“Not your favorite?”

She shrugged. “I generally make it a rule not to eat anything that is looking at me.”

Kyle grinned. “I can fix that,” he said as he came around to her side and took the crab from her hand. A moment later, he handed it back to her facing the other way. “There. Now it is not looking at you.”

“You are such a help.”

The clock over the fireplace mantel began to chime, rendering any response impossible. Millie swiveled to follow the direction of the sound. When she turned back around, she wore a stunned expression.

“It’s midnight.”

He took another bite of crab and nodded. “I told you we were having a midnight supper,” he said when he had swallowed.

“I know, but I thought you were teasing.” She paused to push her plate aside. “If it is midnight, then we must have been up in your workshop for hours.” A calculation was happening somewhere in her amazing brain. He could see it on her face.

“You sent for me well before dark. What was that, five? Certainly no later than six? And now it is midnight?”

He shrugged as he pulled another crab off the platter. “I find it easy to lose track of time when I am doing what I love.”

And there it was. Love.

Not spoken in conjunction with the feelings churning in his heart, and yet he had certainly contemplated that term as he lay on his bunk in the
dead of night aboard the
Victoria Anne.
Unable to rid himself of the idea, he had instead allowed it, made every attempt to argue against it, and failed.

The object of his thoughts smiled back at him. “As do I.”