Her Majesty's Necromancer (The Ministry of Curiosities #2)(18)

I tilted my head to peer up at him. His jaw was at my eye level, his throat near my lips. I relaxed against him and rested my head on his shoulder. His long, slow exhale fanned my hair. His heart gave a single, booming thud against my back. It stirred my blood, raised my hopes.

"Lincoln," I whispered into the smooth skin at the base of his throat.

His arms loosened so that I was able to turn into him and place my hands on his chest. His heart beat rapidly, erratically, and even as I registered that, I pushed hard against him with one hand and slammed the palm of my other under his chin, snapping his head back.

I went to step out of his embrace entirely, but he'd already recovered and grasped my forearms. I was facing him now, however, and had the use of my legs. I stomped on his toe then lifted my knee to smash it into his groin, but he knocked it away with his hand. With one arm now free, I swung a punch into his stomach and another at his jaw, but missed.

In the blink of an eye, he'd grabbed both my arms again and lowered me to the floor with more gentleness than an attacker would have. He sat on my thighs and stretched my arms over my head. He gripped both my hands in one of his and planted the other on the floor beside my head.

I bucked and growled in frustration, but I couldn't dislodge him. If he were a real attacker, I'd be in a lot of trouble. It was a stark reminder that I needed to improve.

"You win this round," I muttered.

He didn't release me. The shutters came down over his eyes, leaving only a slit through which he watched me. His face drew close to mine as he leaned forward to lock my hands in his own big one. Heat flared beneath my skin and pulsed through my veins, throbbing in time to my rapidly beating heart. His free hand cupped my cheek. His face lowered until his mouth was near mine. His spicy scent filled me, rendering me stupid. I could think of nothing but this powerful man, and the way I ached for his kiss.

"Sir, when—? Oh." Seth stood in the doorway, his mouth flopped open.

Lincoln sprang to his feet in a blur of movement. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Seth backed out the door. "I'm, er, sorry to interrupt, sir."

"We're training." Lincoln held out his hand to me and I took it. His touch was clinical and he let me go as soon as I was steady on my feet. "Charlie is yet to defeat some of us."

I searched his face for signs that he was as affected as me by what had almost happened, but there were none. His mouth was set in an uncompromising line, his eyes were black voids. With my heart still in my throat, I walked as steadily as my shaking legs would allow to the table and clutched the edge through the dust cover. With my back to the men, I gasped in air in the hopes my nerves would feel a little less frayed. It didn't work.

"I was going to ask when you wanted me to relieve Gus," Seth said.

"I'll go after dinner," Lincoln said.

"For how long?"

"All night."

"Is that wise, sir? Shouldn't you rest?"

"I'll rest tomorrow. Charlie, training is complete." His footsteps receded from the ballroom and I closed my eyes. So he was going to fight against his feelings and ignore what had almost happened. I didn't know why I expected anything else.

"Are you all right, Charlie?" Seth asked from close behind me.

I nodded.

I thought he'd walked off, but then he sat on the edge of the table beside me. "Will you allow me to give you some advice?"

"If you must."

"Forget him. He's too volatile, too wild."

What an odd thing to say. "He's not an animal."

"Isn't he?" He sighed. "If you'll permit me to speak freely?"

"Of course."

"You crave a family, a place, a home."

"Lichfield is now my home, and you are all my family." My throat clogged with tears that I couldn't swallow past. Why did I want to cry? I hated crying, especially over a man. There were sadder things that deserved tears. Things that had happened to me in the past that had failed to unravel me like this.

"I know," he said softly. "That's why you shouldn't do anything to jeopardize what you have here. He'll throw you out if he feels your presence is making him weaker."

I spun round. "How am I making him weaker?"

"If he develops feelings for you, it makes him vulnerable. Fitzroy hates vulnerability in himself, and if you make him weak…" He shrugged. "He would force you to leave."

I blinked back tears and shook my head. "He wouldn't," I whispered. "He's not that cruel."

"Isn't he? Anyway, like I said, that's if he develops feelings for you. I'm not entirely certain he's capable of feeling anything."

"You're wrong about him, Seth."

"Am I? I've known him longer than you."

"That doesn't mean you know him better."

"Women," he muttered as he pushed off. "Moths have more sense. They know to stay away from flames like him."

I watched him go, my heart a dead weight in my chest. How many moths were circling Lincoln's flame? I wished I didn't care so much. It would make life far easier if I could do as Seth wanted and shrug off my feelings. Lincoln certainly seemed capable of shrugging off his desire for me.