The Watchmaker's Daughter (Glass and Steele #1)(16)

I stumbled, only to be caught by Mr. Glass. My head swam and I couldn't quite see him through the black haze. I felt myself falling and landed on the pavement. Or perhaps he had lowered me. I couldn't be sure of much anymore, except that I needed to breathe or I would pass out altogether.

"Unbutton your waistcoat," Mr. Glass demanded.

I tried to say, "Pardon?" but all that came out was a strangled gasp.

"Unbutton your waistcoat. The dress too."

When I simply stared ahead at his blurry silhouette, hoping that I was somehow conveying my shock at his suggestion, he clicked his tongue. Strong nimble fingers undid my waistcoat. I batted them away, but my swat was ineffective.

Mr. Glass finished with my waistcoat and moved on to the line of buttons down my dress. They proved more difficult to undo quickly and he gave up being delicate with a grunt and a tug. Buttons flew off in all directions, raining on the pavement beside me.

"My apologies, Miss Steele, but if you don't breathe, you'll faint. Or die." He must have removed his gloves at some point because his bare fingers skimmed the swell of my breasts above my corset.

My chest tightened further. Little veins of heat spread across my skin, centering on the place where his fingers lingered. I coughed, and he set to work untying my laces. His hands spread against my ribs below my breasts, separating the stiff corset. Delicious air rushed into my body, expanding my chest like a balloon. I sucked in breath after breath until slowly the blackness retreated and the dizziness dispersed, leaving me very aware of the man crouching before me—the smooth skin of his cheeks, the warmth of his breath, the flecks of gold in eyes, which continued to watch me with earnestness and something else I couldn't quite read.

His thumb stroked my skin, close to my breast. Part of me wanted to feel his hand explore higher, to have it touch me everywhere, to feel his arms around me. The thought of our heartbeats meshing together sent mine racing all over again, but not from lack of breath this time.

Those thoughts were sheer madness. Clearly I was affected from all that vigorous exercise.

"Thank you, Mr. Glass." A whisper was all I could manage.

He blinked rapidly, then removed his hands. Cool air rushed in to replace his warmth, but I could still feel the impression his hands had made on my skin. "Are you well enough to continue?"

"I won't faint, although I need to fix my attire." I quickly tied my laces, suddenly grateful that he'd only parted my corset enough to allow me to breathe and not to display my breasts. His hands on my body was ungentlemanly enough.

"Of course." He collected the buttons and my reticule, which I must have dropped at some point. "I do apologize for…" He cleared his throat. "For everything."

"It's quite all right, but if I hear you mention this to anyone, I'll not only deny it, I will castrate you in the night while you sleep."

He laughed softly. "There's no need to go to such extremes. I would have given my word."

I wasn't sure if the word of an outlaw was worth very much, but kept the quip to myself. He'd saved me, after all.

He tipped my buttons into my reticule as I arranged my jacket over my undone dress as best as I could. I looked up to see him patting his pocket. When he saw me looking, he stopped and gathered up his gloves and the butcher's knife. He held out his hand to me and we stood together.

He quickly turned his head away and touched his fingers to his temples, but not before I saw how pale he'd gone.

"Are you all right, Mr. Glass?" I asked. "Did you overdo it too?"

"I'm fine. Don't fuss."

"I hardly call a little inquiry into your health fussing, particularly when you look peaky."

He huffed loudly. "I'm fine. Let's go. We should move quickly." He handed me the reticule and tucked the knife into the waistband of his trousers. "But there's no need to run. I think we're closer to my house than we are to Cyclops and Marble Arch, so we'll head there."

"Do you know where Park Street is from here?" I asked.

"I do."

"You've been down these streets before?" Since we were still among mews, stables and the businesses that serviced horses and carriages, I was doubtful. Not too many gentlemen would bother to come back here.

"My sense of direction is excellent. We need to go this way."

Since I didn't know Mayfair too well, I let him lead the way. He was still pale, except for the dark circles that had appeared beneath his eyes. He'd seemed well enough only a short time ago, so I didn't think our encounter with the butcher caused it. Rather, he looked as if he hadn't slept properly in days.

"Did you scare those fellows away after you took the butcher's knife?" I asked, looking behind us. There were no sounds of anyone following.

After a few steps, he said, "They were in no condition to follow us."

I gasped. "You hurt them?"

He looked at me sideways. "Does it matter?"

"I…I don't know. They were just law-abiding innocent men, trying to stop someone they thought was a thief." And there were three of them and only one of him. How had he beaten them?

"They were vigilantes," he said. "Their kind of justice is never innocent and is rarely law-abiding."

"Perhaps in your country."