The Twisting (33 page)

She nodded. The thread was in place, ready to carry out the image in her mind.
Go
, she urged it. “Specifically, I’m asking after your male functioning. You’ve had a…weakness?”

His grip on her hand tightened, and his nostrils flared.

“I hope you’ll understand I can’t enter an agreement only to have a repeat of last night. Show me you have your…functioning.” She stepped against him, bringing their clasped hands to her neck and then trailing his knuckles right down the skin of her warming chest to rest at the swell of her breasts.

Annmar heated like she’d been scorched by fire, part embarrassment, part her Knack quickening like it had done last night. Mr. Shearing didn’t seem to notice. He drew a breath at the tactic Mary Clare had suggested and she’d dismissed. Before. He shifted against her, but nothing changed in the area of his trouser front.

He leaned away, passing a hand down to pat his crotch.

She continued to meet his gaze. He pulled her closer. “A result of a most frustrating experience with you,” he muttered. “One I can easily fix.”

She tolerated his body against hers through a long stare. Nothing changed. “Can you?” She dropped his hand and stepped back.

He ran his hands around his waistband, any concern about bringing attention to that region of his body dismissed by the worry creasing his forehead.

The train whistle blew its five-minute warning, and she nearly sighed in relief. “Let me know if you change your mind about those pests. If you cease shipments to Blighted Basin, I would see what Basin remedies could address your issues. That’s my offer.”

“I don’t need your help.” He raised his arm, preparing to strike her.

Annmar lifted her own arm in defense and stumbled back. His swipe grazed her elbow. She gasped, and behind her, Mary Clare cursed. In the next moment, Daeryn landed before her. He blocked Mr. Shearing’s second swing and spat, “Don’t you dare hit a lady.”

Mr. Shearing looked startled and then furious, but Daeryn didn’t move. He glared, fists clenched.

“What the hell?
Who
the hell—” Mr. Shearing stepped out of reach and straightened his clothes. His glare shifted from Daeryn to Annmar and back again, recognition registering. “Her knight from the hinterlands.” He barked out a laugh. “Boy, she’s
not
a lady. More like a wench.”

Daeryn reared, balling his fist to swing, but Rivley caught his arm and shoved him back.

“Not here,” he ordered under his breath.

Daeryn’s gaze found hers, and Annmar shook her head. Daeryn shrugged off Rivley and retreated another few steps, though the way he stood on the balls of his feet told Annmar he could pounce the distance again, ’cambire form or not.

A warm feeling welled up within her. She had her Knack. She had her friends. She had the upper hand, if Mr. Shearing’s departure from civil behavior was any indication.

She turned back to him. “Think what you will,” she said. “I don’t care. Spread the word I came after what Wellspring was owed when you defaulted on a delivery.”

“You mean hoodwinked me like a hussy?” hissed Mr. Shearing. “You conniving tricksteress, I’ll see you again, just like I’ll see that homegrown place fail.”

Annmar crossed her arms. “That’s a plan you can wipe off your drawing board.”

His brow quirked. “Is that so?”

She couldn’t keep her gaze from straying to the Harvesters. Mr. Shearing looked as well.

Dash it all
.

A gleam crept into his eyes. “So I’ve paid for these machines.”

“The delivery of them,” she snapped, feeling right at her limit with this exasperating man. “They belong to the inventor.”

“At Wellspring, I presume?” Mr. Shearing frowned. “Fine. Go back to your little farm, with the machines traveling at my expense. I’ll continue to send my shipments, and we’ll see who can outlast the other.”

He would, too. And while the new doodem had sent threads over the broken-down Harvester, she didn’t know whether that had repaired the machine. Or if these Harvesters could be fixed the same way.

Mr. Shearing chuckled, as if reading her thoughts. “Another week and it’ll be too late for your harvest. I don’t give a damn if I get the land, as long as you’re forced to come crawling back.”

“Like any Basin woman would do that,” Daeryn muttered.

“You mean, Basin
witch
,” he sneered. Then his eyes widened, and his gaze dropped to his trousers and, for the second time, realization crossed his face. His jaw clenched, and his hands fisted.

This couldn’t be good. Annmar met Mary Clare’s gaze, and together they turned. Daeryn was steps away, Rivley beyond him. “Let’s go,” she said to them.

But Mr. Shearing blocked their path. “That…
pea
nut concoction… You’ve cast a curse on me,” he snarled. “I will not be had by the likes of a Basin witch. You’re not leaving until you fix this.” He waved to his trouser front.

Annmar raised a brow. “I’m going.” She sidestepped him, but Shearing seized her shoulder, making her cry out. She balled her fingers as Jac had shown her, but before she could move, Daeryn again threw himself between them.

He rammed his elbow onto Shearing’s arm. Annmar jumped free, and Daeryn plowed his fist into Shearing’s belly. Air whooshed from the man like the blow of a steam whistle. Mr. Shearing doubled over, his knees buckled and he crumpled to the ground. He opened his mouth in soundless pain, but didn’t get up.

Several people rushed up, including the stationmaster. He grabbed Daeryn by the arm and pulled him back. Despite Daeryn’s size, the spry man propelled him down the platform. Rivley darted after them.

“Quick.” Mary Clare jerked Annmar forward.

They caught up to the boys in time to hear the stationmaster mutter, “Bloody bastard had it coming.”

“Sir,” Rivley said, “Daeryn only defended—”

“I saw nothing. However, I cannot say the same for others, any number of whom Shearing may own.” The stationmaster strode on, his hand still cuffing Daeryn’s forearm. “You boys get out of here before the constable arrives. He’s on Shearing’s payroll.”

The train whistle blew again. “Final boarding!” called the conductor at the door of the car ahead.

It was leaving, and the stationmaster was dragging Daeryn farther away, with Rivley at their heels. If she and Mary Clare went after them to persuade the man to let Daeryn go, they’d miss the train. And Mr. Shearing was on this platform and furious.

Annmar clasped Mary Clare’s arm and urged her toward the train. “I can’t stay here. We have to get on.”

“I know,” she whispered.

While a conductor handed them up the steps onto the train, she could only watch the stationmaster march Daeryn away.

Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Annmar sank into
a seat in the first empty row she found, in the back of the car. Mary Clare settled beside her. “You left that thread in him this time, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she mumbled. But she’d also left Daeryn behind. What would happen to him and Rivley? The stationmaster hadn’t sounded that upset, but who knew what might happen if Mr. Shearing went after them?

“Great Creator, what are you looking so worried about?” Mary Clare said gleefully. “You saw it work. You fixed him and fixed him good.”

“
Shh
!” Annmar hissed. “I couldn’t have done anything without everyone’s help.”

“Pshaw.” Mary Clare waved her off. “Yes, we all helped, but
that
was brilliant. He won’t send those pests again. Or at least he won’t for long. Not if he wants you to undo your thread.” She dropped a hand to Annmar’s arm. “It will last, won’t it?”

“I don’t see why it won’t. Old Terry’s binding on me has stayed.”

Mary Clare bounced in her seat. “That’s the spirit. You
know
you can do it now, so you can. Please, Annmar, look on the bright side. You’ve stopped him from ever thinking you will be his key adviser in taking over Wellspring or any other farm in the Basin. And we’re leaving with the Harvesters to save our Collective.”

True, she’d honored Henry’s promise and his memory. And settled her debt to Mistress Gere. She’d learned to use her Knack, and it worked well, putting the powerful Mr. Shearing at a disadvantage. No wonder he had taken a swing at her. Still, had it been the right thing to do? She closed her eyes. “Using my Knack to control him was no better than what Shearing does to control others.”

“He tried to control you first,” Mary Clare said softly. “Many times. You had to push back in a way that he’d notice you’re serious.”

After a moment, Annmar nodded. She’d done what she had to stay free of him.
Learn and let live.
“What about Daeryn and Rivley?”

“That little fight? They’ll be fine.”

Oh, no, this feisty redhead didn’t understand resorting to fisticuffs wasn’t normal behavior for the streets of Derby. And she needed to, especially if she would be returning. “It was such a scene. So many people overheard—”

“Shearing being an arse,” Mary Clare retorted. “You were clearly at a disadvantage.”

“But that’s the point. In Derby’s eyes, I’m nobody. He’s somebody, a rich somebody. He’ll keep me from getting a job just by his disapproval of my work and me.”

“You don’t want to go back!”

Annmar sat back against the window. “I...I don’t. And now I have to begin a search for another position in Blighted Basin, while I still have a little work with Mistress Gere.”

Mary Clare nodded. “You’re a fine artist, with many other skills,
in
Blighted Basin
. You’ve found work before, you’ll find it again.”

Mary Clare was right. Annmar owed Old Terry three weeks of guiding work, and the woman had seemed to want more. If the job was as harmless as she’d made it out to be, then perhaps Annmar could do that for pay. Or Miriam might have some ideas for using her Knack discreetly.

The door at the front of the car opened with a wave of air. The conductor entered and closed it behind him, his gaze roving over the few passengers before landing on the two of them.

“Oh, dear,” Mary Clare said, “You did get our tickets before all that started, didn’t you?”

Annmar retrieved the stiff slips and held them so they were visible.

The conductor continued to stare their way as he punched tickets and advanced toward them. He took theirs and inspected them longer than he had anyone else’s. “Gapton?”

Annmar said, “Yes,” while Mary Clare nodded.

He handed them back and left, letting in a blast of cool air.

“What was that about?” Annmar whispered.

“You’re the city girl. How would I know?” Mary Clare bit her lip. “You don’t suppose he’s on Mr. Shearing’s payroll, do you?”

“I hope not.” But Annmar didn’t feel the least bit confident. She plucked at Mother’s shawl and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, and then slipped her hand to her sketchbook inside her satchel. She stroked the cover a moment, then found the rock from the tunnel. Somehow, it was more reassuring.

“Do you have the rest of his money? To pay the rack railway fees?”

She ought to check. She’d pushed it into the toes of her dress shoes while changing. Annmar leaned over and dug through her valise, handing one empty shoe, stockings and other items to Mary Clare until she had the banknotes. With them safely stored in her satchel, Mary Clare handed her things back, including the Derby freight receipt and another piece of folded paper.

“That’s not mine.”

“Must be. It came from your bag.” Mary Clare unfolded the paper and scanned it. “It’s a deed.”

“What?” Annmar took the document and read, “The bearer holds title to—
good heavens
.”

Mary Clare leaned close. “Where is Number 8 Bond Lane?”

“Next block from The Strand,” she answered, but her thoughts raced to Mr. Shearing’s slap of referring to ’cambires as wildlife, his bread slathered with pea nut spread lifted to touch hers, the second helping she passed him, her gaze fixed on the blue threads and paying little attention to the paper he’d handed her… Annmar fought to catch her breath and dispelled the images to look at the deed to the shop, a prize the magnate had dangled before her for months.

Mother’s dream. It’s here, in my hand.
The place she’d worked her life to earn, given to her by a pompous bastard Mother would have hated, a man intent on destroying the lives of others. Annmar closed her eyes on the ill churning in her stomach and forced her hands to fold the deed. She didn’t want to see the words her dead mother had never been able to look upon. She didn’t want the shop, nor could she bear any reminder of last night’s horrible events. She rose and began struggling with the fastenings of the window.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Throwing it away,” Annmar said. “I want no part of—”

Mary Clare snatched the paper from her hand and tugged her down into her seat again. “You’re a fool not to keep it,” she whispered. “My pa says don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you don’t want it, someone else will. You can trade or sell—”

“No.” She looked away from Mary Clare and the paper she rubbed between her palms. “I absolutely do not want anything to do with Mr. Shearing, or that shop, now or at any time in the future.” She darted a glance at the redhead’s frowning face. She didn’t understand, and no explanation would—oh. There was a solution. A good one. “You keep it.”

Mary Clare gaped at her. “Really?”

Annmar nodded.

After studying the deed again, she shook her head. “I’ll hold it for now and give you another chance after you’ve had some time—”

“I won’t change my mind. Put it away.”

Mary Clare did, just when the conductor returned. He shot them another look before walking to the front of the car.

The door closed behind him, and Annmar sighed. “I suppose we’ll find out soon why he’s staring at us.” She turned to the window.

Five minutes later, the front door opened again. Not the conductor, but a brown-haired—

Daeryn?

“What’s he doing here?” Mary Clare breathed. “Rivley told me they had to ride in the employee car.”

Her heart raced. “You knew they were on the train?”

“I
hoped
they were on the train. It’s a long flight, or run, back.”

Daeryn strode down the aisle, his jaw tight, his gaze set on Annmar. Before he passed them, he jerked his chin to the rear of car.

The opening door let in another draft of cold air.

Mary Clare urged her up. “Go.”

“What?”

“He wants you to follow him, you ninny.” Mary Clare all but shoved her upright.

Annmar grasped her shawl and edged to the aisle. The door opened before she reached for it, and Daeryn gestured her into a corner on the tiny open platform between the two cars before he closed the door behind her.

The countryside rushed by in a noisy whoosh of freezing air, but Annmar didn’t care. She clung to a rail, wishing it were Daeryn’s hand and fearing he would rebuff her if she reached for him.

He balanced inches from her on the rocking platform, his brown eyes intense. He didn’t look happy. “Sorry. This is the only place I dare talk to you. I borrowed some of Rivley’s winnings to pay the conductor to check if you were aboard and then to allow me down here. I only have ten minutes before I have to report back.”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled, so nervous she could barely get the words out and then repeated them so he could hear her.

“This is damned awkward, but I have to know if I overheard correctly. You have some sort of… arrangement with Shearing?”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Oh, Lord. He knew.

Or did he? “Did you hear the entire conversation, or only part of it?”

Daeryn rolled his eyes and kept them upward, not looking at her. “Part. I saw him walk you away and followed. But when I heard you…were in bed with him, I assumed you didn’t want to be interrupted.”

He must have heard the undressing and naked part.

Daeryn peeked her way. “Rivley insisted I speak with you, to clarify some things I don’t understand.”

Her heart soared. Maybe there was hope for them. “I’m surprised you left the Basin, since you said you never would.”

“I know I did, but finding you and trying to save Wellspring are important to me, even though I got myself banned from Derby’s station by hitting Shearing.” He kicked at the door. “Strikes me as unfair when I was defending you, but I don’t regret it. Letting a stronger person treat anyone in that manner wasn’t how I was brought up.”

She sighed. “That’s English society. It’s all about who you are. Mr. Shearing has money, so he has position, and thus control of others. Even without the use of a Knack.”

“Devil take their opinions,” Daeryn muttered to the platform. “You may have feelings for this man—and it’s not my business—but until he’s better able to control his temper, I think you’re safer out of his bed.”

He’d hardly looked at her, and she had no idea where this was going, but she had to take a chance. She placed her hand on Daeryn’s arm and waited until his gaze rose. “I won’t be in his bed again. The short version is I discovered he’d used his Knack on Mistress Gere. When he offered me money to spend the night with him, I knew I could learn how he’d done it and use his money to ship the Harvesters to Wellspring. I didn’t want to”—she had to say it to make this explanation
very
clear—“have sex with him, so I used my Knack to make him fall asleep.”

Daeryn frowned. “But on the platform he asked you to stay, and you took his hand and put it—” He gestured to her chest.

Annmar heated and pulled the shawl closer. “By holding his hand, I sent another of my Knack threads into him to bind up his male functioning. Now he can’t…”

Daeryn backed a step, his eyes growing wide. “Right. Got it.”

“I’d never…do that to anyone else. That was, um, extraordinary circumstances.”

He looked around unnecessarily. “Shearing called you a—”

“Witch.” So this was it. He’d have nothing to do with her. She straightened. “I suppose it’s true. Not looked upon too kindly, I hear.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Depends on what you do and why. You had a good reason, and I’m not criticizing your decision.”

No? He might say that, but Annmar expected him to turn and leave at any moment. He didn’t…and he
had
traveled all the way to Derby to find her. “What did you plan to do once you’d found me?”

The smile he gave her was a little hesitant. “Protect you from Shearing. Miz Gere has learned he worked his Knack on everyone in her agricultural consortium. After, I was hoping”—he took a breath—“to persuade you to come back.”

Really? He wanted her to be at Wellspring as much as she did?

“We had that talk about my pack in Rockbridge and how ’cambires live. I thought it put you off, made you decide to leave the Basin—”

“It didn’t.”

“Uh, Annmar, you haven’t heard all of our habits yet, so it still might. Anyway, I plan to change my ways: denning with other females, being so pack oriented, wanting to mark you. I thought if I changed to your human ways, that you might reconsider…uh, me.”

He wanted to be together. Her insides went all aflutter, and Annmar lifted her hand to catch his. But Daeryn was still backed to the door and not meeting her gaze, so she returned it to the railing.

Daeryn rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose this was a trip about clearing up misconceptions. While we were traveling, Rivley and I began to talk again. I realized—we both realized—that for years we haven’t
really
talked, or been supporting each other the way friends should.”

How had this conversation turned to Rivley? “I’m happy for you both,” she answered politely.