The Marriage Machine (2 page)

It was during the shredding of her knuckles that she came up with an even better plan than destroying the Marriage Machine.

A door slammed and awakened Elspeth. She jerked to a sitting position, banged her head on a pipe and gawked at her surrounds—completely disoriented. She had fallen asleep in the bowels of the Marriage Machine. Elspeth rubbed her skull as she heard Davies talking to someone in the room outside.

“A repair person has been working around the clock,” Davies sputtered. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Elspeth struggled to her feet, ignoring her aching muscles and sore back. She was sure there was a pattern of rivets stamped into her butt. Trying to gather her wits, she pulled out the pocket watch she wore around her neck and squinted at it. Good heavens, it was nine o’clock in the morning. She couldn’t remember falling asleep or finishing the job for that matter. But a quick glance around the chamber told her that every gear and every nut and bolt had been returned to its place. No one would ever suspect what she had done during the night. As the two men talked outside the machine, she replaced the walnut panels and headed for the door of the bower.

Elspeth picked up her backpack just as the door of the Marriage Machine was flung open with a clang.

“And what have we here?” a voice boomed.

Elspeth stared at the man staring back at her. She had never seen such a creature. He had to be over six feet tall. No man in Londo City was over five and a half feet. He wore a long leather traveling coat with rain flaps at the collar that failed to disguise his massive shoulders. But even more shocking was his hair. It was black. As black as tar. She’d never seen black hair before. Everyone in the LC had the same mousy brown hair—a product attributed to centuries of inbreeding.

Elspeth threw back her shoulders. “Citizen Shutterhouse, SteamWizards.”

“Sleeping on the job, were you?” the man demanded. His blue eyes raked her up and down.

The man’s ingratitude infuriated her. He had to be one of the Ramsays.

“A girl needs her beauty sleep.” She jumped out of the Marriage Machine and aimed to land on his right foot, but he stepped aside just in time to escape injury. She shot a glance at him, amazed that such a large man could possess quick reflexes.

“She’s all fixed, Citizen Davies,” Elspeth announced, hoping the giant would back off once he knew his family’s precious machine was functioning—at least to the casual observer. But instead of smiling in relief, he glanced at the injured supply line she had fixed, as if doubting her claim.

“That’s wonderful news!” Citizen Davies exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Oh, you’ve made my day. Remarkable work, Shutterhouse. Remarkable!”

“Have you tried it?” the tall man broke off his stare. “Have you powered it up?”

“Not yet,” Elspeth retorted. “But I’m certain it will work.”

Davies skittered to the start lever and pulled it downward. The Marriage Machine sputtered, shimmied, and then chugged to a start. Davies’ goggles turned her way. He beamed. “Glorious!” he cried. “I am the happiest man on earth.”

“And I’m the thirstiest, Davies,” the tall man retorted. “I’ve been traveling all night. Spare me a whiskey, would you? And Shutterhouse as well.”

“Indeed!” Davies trotted to the door. “I have a single malt I’ve been saving for a special occasion. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I don’t drink on the job,” Elspeth slung her backpack over her left shoulder. “And I really must be getting back to work.” She turned toward the door.

“Not before you tell me what you’ve been doing here all night.”

Elspeth paused and looked over her shoulder.

“
Citizen
,” he drawled.

His tone and his dark regard made her heart race with alarm. But she’d never let him see it. She planted a fist on her hip. “And why should I tell you? I have no idea who you are.”

“I’m Ramsay.” He inclined his head stiffly. “Captain Mark Ramsay. I assume you are acquainted with the name.”

“Not with yours particularly.”

“With my family’s then.”

“I’m not dead.”

His eyes narrowed. “But you might wind up in that condition, if you don’t tell me what you were doing here all night.”

She frowned. He had some nerve, threatening her. She raised her chin and sent him the most withering glare she could muster. “Is that the thanks I get for fixing your damn machine? Bloody hell!” She stormed toward the door, but he caught her arm, surprising her again with his speed. His large hand easily encircled her bicep.

“A respectable citizen doesn’t swear.” He warned. “I could report you.”

“And I could report you!” she shot back. “For manhandling a female. Let go of me!”

“Not until you tell me what you’ve been up to.” His face loomed inches away from hers. He had amazingly white teeth. She could see his nostrils flare. His nose was large and sharp, and unnervingly provocative when in such close proximity to her.

“What part of fixing don’t you understand?” she retorted, shaken by her reaction to him.

He squeezed her arm. “It couldn’t have taken twelve hours to repair what was wrong with that machine.”

“And how would you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.”

“I was tired. I fixed the Marriage Machine and decided to take a nap while I could.”

“You’re lying.”

“That makes two of us.” She struggled to break free. “Now let me go, or I’ll call out.”

His grip relaxed as his wide mouth curled up at one corner, almost as if he were struggling to hide a smile. The smirk only infuriated her more. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and brushed all traces of him off her leather sleeve.

His blue eyes flashed down at her. She’d never seen blue eyes before either. Everyone in the city had brown eyes. Fascinated, she stole a second look, unused to color of any description in her foggy, monochromatic world. She imagined the sky had once been the color of his eyes. But she had only heard about such a sky in the tales of her great aunt.

Then she noticed his eyes darkening to a deeper color, as if the sky were melting into the warmest and most cerulean of oceans. He must have noticed her studying his face.

Elspeth flushed. She was gawking at a Ramsay, and daydreaming of a wonderland of color. What in the Name of Wanda was the matter with her?

Ramsay gave a short laugh, as if he’d registered her mental lapse. “Since when did the power company start sending girls out to do their work?”

“I’m not a girl.”

“Really?” He cocked a brow. “Then what are you, pray tell?”

“An ace mechanic who happens to be a woman.”

His cool glance surveyed her figure a second time, but his expression remained impassive, unreadable, as if he took no pleasure from the view.

Elspeth was only too aware that she hadn’t been blessed with feminine contours. Her aunt often chided her to eat more and work less, and maybe then her breasts and hips would have a chance to develop. But she’d never taken the advice. There were too many projects to work on through the night after her long hours at the power company, and too many diagrams to draw. Moreover, she hadn’t cared about the size of her breasts until she’d been sized up by Ramsay just now and obviously found lacking. If she had possessed ponderous breasts like her cousin Amelie, she would have unfastened her jacket and flaunted her attributes in Mark Ramsay’s face. She would bet his nostrils would flare then.

Unfortunately, her breasts were not of the flaunting variety.

“A woman?” He snorted. “You look barely old enough to wear a corset.”

“I’m twenty-five, I’ll have you know. And was top of my class.”

“In what—Advanced Impertinence?”

“I’m not being impertinent!”

“You stare. You don’t mind your tongue.”

“It is my right to speak my mind.” She raked him up and down as thoroughly as he had surveyed her. “Just because you were born into the
esteemed
Ramsay family, and have every luxury at your disposal, doesn’t give you any more rights than me,
citizen
.”

“If you believe that,” he sneered. “Then you are woefully naive.”

Her flush deepened.

Again, their glances locked, and this time his eyes flared with challenge. But before either one of them could say anything more, Citizen Davies whisked through the door with three glasses on a tray.

“
Days of cake and cream should be far and few between
,” he said, smiling. “But I believe this is one of those days. I do believe it is.”

Elspeth suspected that he had enjoyed more than his share of such days.

Davies picked up a glass of whiskey and held it out to her. “Citizen Shutterhouse?”

“Thank you, but I must be going.” At the door, she turned to look over her shoulder, sure that Captain Ramsay would be watching her departure with a triumphant sneer on his handsome face. Instead, he was sipping his drink and staring at the Marriage Machine, deep in thought.

Chapter Two

After putting in a full day at work, Elspeth arrived home just after six that evening. The single lamp in the center of the square cast an eerie glow in the fog but failed to reach her aunt’s doorstep. Exhausted, Elspeth pushed open the foyer door, pulled off her boots and stowed her backpack in the corner. All she wanted was a bowl of soup and her bed. But just as she reached for the door to the parlor, someone opened it and flooded her with light.

“Happy birthday!” two voices called in unison. Her aunt and cousin clapped, delighted with themselves for having caught her by surprise.

Elspeth had completely forgotten about her birthday. Technically, it had occurred yesterday, December 18
^th
, but she’d been too busy fixing the Marriage Machine to celebrate.

“We were so worried you’d have to work overtime again,” her aunt pulled her toward the settee table where a small white cake sat on a platter. “And that the cake would go bad.”

“You could have eaten it without me,” Elspeth said. But she was glad they hadn’t. Her mouth watered at the sight of the uncommon treat.

“Never,” her aunt retorted. “It’s your twenty-fifth birthday, Elspeth. A very special birthday for a woman. We’d never have eaten the cake without you. Now sit down and relax for once.”

“Thank you, Aunt Fi.” Elspeth had to admit that sitting down felt like the best birthday present of all. “It’s been quite a couple of days.” She sank down onto the worn cushions of the sofa.

“But you did manage to fix the problem, dear?” her aunt asked, even though she never quite grasped what Elspeth did for a living. Aunt Fi handed her a piece of cake on a chipped plate.

“I certainly did.” Elspeth answered.

“That’s good to hear. But as I have said before, you should speak to your boss. He makes you work too hard.”

“It can’t be helped, Aunt Fi. It’s the nature of my job. Londo City would collapse without the SteamWizards.”

“Never mind your dreary old job, El.” Amelie sat down with her baby on her knee. Her ponderous breasts had increased geometrically since the birth of her child, and they docked on either side of Benjamin’s shoulders like twin dirigibles. “What I am dying to know is if you got one.”

“One what?” Elspeth savored a soft bite of cake. Sugar was so scarce, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had anything sweet.

“An envelope.
The
envelope.”

Elspeth reached into her blouse, pulled out the now-tattered envelope and tossed it on the table.

“I knew it!” Amelie grinned. “I knew you’d be chosen.”

Aunt Fi was more perceptive. She sat down across from Elspeth, her slice of cake all but forgotten. “But you aren’t pleased, Elspeth. What’s wrong?”

“Everything! I fail to see what’s so wonderful about being forced to marry a complete stranger and never having another independent thought for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not what you think,” Amelie kissed the downy head of her child. “In fact it’s changed my life in ways I never imagined.”

It had changed Amelie all right. Amelie used to write and draw in her spare time. But a few minutes in the Marriage Machine had dried up her cousin’s creative juices. She hadn’t written a line since her marriage.

Nothing could be done about it now, so there was no use mentioning the fact to Amelie. Instead, Elspeth gave her a smile. “It’s fine for women like you, Amelie. You were meant to be a wife and a mother. But we all know that I would be miserable in that kind of life.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t,” her aunt reached over and patted her wrist. “It’s what a woman was born to do, Elspeth—bear children and raise the next generation. It’s important work. And not everyone gets the opportunity. It’s quite an honor, you know. You shouldn’t take it lightly.”

“What’s your date?” Amelie asked.

“I have no idea.” Elspeth put down her plate. She’d lost her appetite for cake and for celebrating. “I haven’t opened it yet.”