The Marriage Machine (4 page)

“It’s okay. But I don’t have all day. This better be quick.”

“I have a job for you.”

It was her turn to stare at him. “A job?”

He nodded as he guided his craft into the street.

“I’m taking you somewhere we can talk in private, and you can freshen up. Don’t panic.”

He drove southward, toward the river, and didn’t say another word. Elspeth couldn’t help but marvel at the smoothness of the ride and Ramsay’s mastery of the vehicle. She felt as if she were zipping along on a cloud—a nice warm cloud with a glove-soft interior.

They whizzed through the streets as the city awakened. Lamps turned on in apartments. A newspaper boy trotted by with his bag. Men hurried to their factory jobs while street vendors opened the shutters of their stalls.

As Elspeth’s frozen extremities warmed, she became more aware of the man who sat beside her—and far too close for her liking. But for a small gear housing, his left thigh would be touching hers. His thigh was long and muscular, his knee twice the size of her own. She shifted her leg to the side to avoid him as much as possible. Then she became aware of his large hands and long fingers, which seemed perfectly suited to working the controls of the craft.

As their bodies heated the air in the Flying Horse, she noticed how wonderful he smelled—as if he had bathed but moments before and had dusted himself with a refreshing powder laced with lime. He smelled so good that she had a wild compulsion to bury her face in the small of his neck and suck in a deep breath of him. The collar of his shirt, bleached to a blazing white, grazed the sharp line of his prominent jaw. His skin was smooth and tan and shaved to perfection. She almost reached out to touch him, to make sure he was real.

Shaken by her reaction to him, Elspeth glanced at his sharp profile. The first time she’d seen him, she had pegged him as conventionally handsome. But upon closer inspection, she realized that there might be more to Mark Ramsay than good looks and intoxicating cologne. There was something in his blue eyes—mental agility perhaps. Or cunning. She wasn’t sure which.

He must have felt her staring at him. He shot her a questioning glance that made her flush all over again.

When he quirked his wide mouth like that, and flashed his white teeth at the side, her head flooded with a vision of her pressing kisses on his undeniably masculine lips. She had never seen such perfect teeth. Most people she knew had crooked discolored teeth from the lack of health care and proper diet.

“Yes?” he purred.

“Nothing.”

Elspeth shook herself back to reality. What was she thinking? Mark Ramsay smelled heavenly. She hadn’t bathed for three days. He was practically a nobleman in their socialist society. She was an impoverished mechanic. Worse, she was this man’s prisoner. The sooner she got away from him, the better.

Captain Ramsay transported her to a redbrick townhouse tucked away on a quiet street that overlooked one of the few greenbelts left in the city. After the Modification Program undertaken centuries ago, when all buildings containing toxic material and electrical components were razed, only those structures built before 1880 were allowed to remain standing. So now, across from the townhouse, was a greenbelt where Scotland Yard, the once revered police unit, had operated. That police force was long gone, leaving the park as its tongue-in-cheek namesake. Scotland Yard ran all the way from this block to the Thames, and only the very rich lived along its border.

Ramsay parked the Flying Horse in a space beneath the house, and motioned for her to follow him up the stone stairs that led to an interior door.

“I can procure a chaperone if you like,” he said, holding open the door for her. “My neighbor is always keen to make pocket change.”

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Do you not?”

“I will never undergo a premarital inspection. So no.”

He nodded, as if he took it for granted that a woman like her would never be selected for marriage. His reaction insulted her, and she was about to retort that she’d received a coveted silver envelope—thank you very much. But good sense muffled the words before she uttered them. Besides, it was considered impolite to discuss a person’s upcoming nuptials with a stranger. Not everyone was “lucky” enough to be selected. A lot of people got passed over.

Elspeth swept into the townhouse. She expected to enter a lavish interior of velvet drapery and lush woven carpets. Instead the décor was comprised of simple black wood furniture, white upholstery, and gray walls—a plain but not unpleasant arrangement. A single painting hung over the ancient unused fireplace. Elspeth looked up at the portrait of a man in an old-fashioned suit and was struck by his blazing blue eyes framed by prominent dark brows and black hair. He wore a critical, penetrating expression that bore down upon her.

“My great-grandfather,” Ramsay commented behind her. His cologne settled over her in a seductive cloud. “Alexander Ramsay.”

“I see a resemblance.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“He looks as if he was a stern man.”

“Times were dire when he sat for that portrait. Everyone was stern.” He touched her elbow. “Come. Bathe yourself, eat, and then we will talk.”

Elspeth pulled back. “What’s there to talk about? And why me?”

“I need someone who knows their way around that machine.” His lip curled. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t intend to.” She glanced back at the stern visage of Alexander Ramsay.

The sight of Mark’s relative reminded her of her own family. “Is there a way to get a message to my aunt?” she asked. “To let her know that I am all right, and where I’m at?”

“I will take care of it.”

She had to trust him to do as she asked. She was powerless to do anything else. Like he had said, he could have her re-arrested in an instant. She decided not to argue with his agenda either. A bath and a decent meal would restore her. After she’d eaten, she would escape.

Elspeth followed Ramsay up a grand staircase to the first floor. He ushered her into a chilly bedchamber that was larger than her aunt’s entire house. Before she could tell him that she could manage on her own, he started a bath and then fetched a small box from a closet. She watched, curious, as he wound a key in the back and set the box near the tub. It whirred, issuing a wave of hot air.

“Whatever is that?” Elspeth gasped, ambling closer and holding out her cold hands.

“Something I’ve been working on.” He watched her bask in the glow of the small heater. “It’s damnable cold in these windowless Londo houses.”

“These windowless houses saved us from the radiation cloud.”

But thoughts of the past dissipated as she studied the box he’d produced. Surely, she was looking at the future.

Fascinated, she glanced up at him. “How can it be so small and yet create so much heat?”

“It’s based on the same technology as the Flying Horse.”

“Bacteria biofuel?”

“Yes, but in a more compressed form.” He walked to the tub. “In small cartridges. It costs next to nothing to run.”

Elspeth stared at the contraption. “You developed this?” she murmured.

“Surprised?”

She was. Mr. Big was becoming an even bigger enigma the more she got to know him. “Have you passed this by the Energy Board?”

“It’s still in the testing stage.” He shut off the water. “Besides, do you really think they’d ever let such a cheap source of heat hit the market?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s my theory,” he handed her a towel, “that the Overseers maintain their hold over Londo City by keeping the citizens cold and hungry. When a man’s hungry, he thinks of nothing but his next meal.”

Elspeth nearly dropped the towel. “You could be sent to the camps for saying that.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought the very same thing.”

She met his serious gaze. For a long moment, all she could hear was the whir of the little heating unit and the thud of her heart as she stared up into his clear and—what she was beginning to suspect were—highly-intelligent eyes.

For a moment she thought of sharing her disdain of the Overseers and their reactionary ways. She wanted to. But blabbing about her rebellious political views was far too dangerous, especially with a Ramsay.

“Am I not right, Shutterhouse?” he prodded.

He was obviously fishing for information, probably to use against her in the future. That’s what the privileged few did to keep their distance from the rabble of Londo City. They took what they liked, when they liked, and then turned their backs on their inferiors with no repercussions whatsoever, as long as they didn’t violate the Edicts of Conduct set forth by the Overseers. But not many edicts pertained to the protection of the rabble, so in effect, the tiny plutocracy of Londo had free rein.

Elspeth was sure the Overseers saw the citizens of Londo as an expendable commodity, much like a herd of cattle. Their low opinion of common man infuriated her. Sure, there were many people who plodded through their lives and had no ambition beyond getting to the next day. But there were plenty of young people like herself who yearned for a better life and a say in how the city was run. There had to be a better way for people and more freedom of choice. She wasn’t a cow. She wasn’t part of a herd, and she wasn’t going to be poked and prodded until she did what the Overseers wanted, especially when it came to her future.

There had been a time when the Overseers were needed. They had been angels of mercy, a handful of men who possessed great wisdom and resources. They had saved the human race from extinction after a nuclear accident—the Grave Mistake—had sparked a planetary war. Entire countries had been wiped out in the vicious battles that had followed the accident, and it was surmised that most of the people who survived the initial bombings died in the endless nuclear winter that followed.

But no one really knew how many humans had survived. No one in the Anglo Territories had heard from the rest of the world in over five hundred years.

After the war and ensuing chaos, a military state was needed and a socialist government required just to survive. As a safeguard against future disasters, the Overseers decreed that anything considered a threat to peace should be demolished. Entire neighborhoods were razed. All manufactured components and technological developments built after the year 1880 were destroyed. The use of electricity was outlawed. Only natural power—steam power—was allowed. Anything else was considered dangerous, with too great a potential for repeating the events that had almost destroyed the earth.

The lesson learned from the Grave Mistake was that human beings could not master the technology they developed. So the Overseers set the clock back to the machinery and mores of the 1880s, and there the Anglo Territories remained.

So far, their plan had worked. In fact, in the last ten years, the birth rate had actually begun to climb. Food was not rationed quite so strictly. The weather was beginning to change. And that’s why Elspeth was determined to make a stand. A new day was dawning. It was time someone convinced the Overseers to take a step back.

The trouble was, the Overseers were unapproachable, and for all intents and purposes, invisible. They lived in a well-guarded compound that had once been known as Buckingham Palace and were never seen coming or going. It was impossible to get an audience with an Overseer as well. There were numerous administrative levels to get through just to lodge a simple complaint or request. No one had ever made it all the way to the top.

Elspeth frowned.

“What I think won’t change the world,” she finally replied. “And might only get me in trouble.”

“Not with me.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“I’m beginning to suspect we might have many similarities.”

For a moment, she glanced back up to his face. He gazed down at her, his navy eyes dark with smoldering intensity. The way he looked at her made her feel as if his every thought was focused on her reply and that he might actually be interested in her views. In that moment, she felt more power over a man than she had known in all her twenty-five years. But such power was fleeting. If he could turn on his charm like that, he could turn it off just as quickly. His interest in her was probably just an act.

“Sorry, I keep my thoughts to myself,” she quipped, “And I work alone.” She headed for the bath before he could say anything more.

Still, his charm had wormed its way through her defenses, enough to set her heart banging against her ribs. Then and there she made a vow that she would never again let her guard down when in the man’s company.

Chapter Three

“Shutterhouse.”

Elspeth became aware of a presence.

“Elspeth.”

Someone nudged her right shoulder.

She sighed, too groggy to open her eyes and respond to the person summoning her. To avoid further attempts to rouse her, she turned over on her back. A cool rush of air washed over her, startling her.

“Good heavens!” a man exclaimed.

Then it hit her. She felt a chill because she had just rolled out of the huge towel she had been draped in. And she was stark naked beneath it.