Fire Maidens: London Page 7

  Wait a minute. Liam?

  She raced up the four gangway stairs, slid back the overhead hatch, and threw the door open.

  “Whoa. Are you still here?”

  He was, indeed, sitting on a bench, tightly wrapped in his jacket. When she called out, Liam blinked away his sleepy look and waved. “Of course I am.” He stood, stretched, and came closer. “You know. Danger.”

  She made a show of looking around the deserted towpath. “The only danger I see is you.”

  He folded his hands over his heart and made a face. “You wound me, fair damsel.”

  She had to laugh. God, was he cute.

  Then he grew serious, pointed upward, and whispered. “Not me. Dragons.”

  She sighed. “Right. Dragons.”

  He nodded earnestly. “Lions too.”

  “Lions like you?”

  He scowled — really scowled, as if she’d hit a sour note. “Like me but not like me.” Then he shook his head. “Anyway, they’re gone now.”

  She studied him. His hair and clothes were disheveled, but his smile was merry. Was he always so upbeat?

  Mostly yes, she decided. He did have gloweringly dangerous moments too, but never aimed at her. Just others, like the man in the subway.

  “You spent the whole night out here,” she said slowly. “Protecting me.”

  He nodded happily then cocked his head. “What?”

  “I’m trying to decide whether that’s creepy or cute.”

  He laughed. “Call it devoted.”

  The morning air was chilly, but she warmed all over. Devotion was a fitting word. Liam’s eyes shone with it, and it was impossible to believe he meant her any harm. Still, a smart woman had to keep her guard up.

  “Well, thanks. I’m going in now.” She stepped down one rung.

  Liam waggled his fingers. “Ta-ta.”

  She closed the hatch and peeked out a different window. Would Liam sneak over when he thought she wasn’t looking?

  But, no. He just stretched, backtracked to that bench, and sat there. Looking left, right, and even up, as if a fighter jet might zoom into view and dive-bomb her boat. Or a dragon, she supposed.

  She hesitated, weighing up what to do. Allowing Liam to walk her home was one thing. But spending the entire night beside Valhalla was another. Really, she ought to send him packing. A woman had to be firm, as she’d learned from her mom. Especially with the quiet ones who made your heart weep.

  Still, Liam was so sweet — and so hopelessly crazy. Every time she set out to tell him enough was enough, her resolve crumbled.

  “Dammit,” she muttered.

  She headed to the galley and put the kettle on the stove. A peek out the window told her the drizzle was letting up, and the sun was slowly burning through the mist. Liam had tilted his chin up and let his eyelids droop, like a cat sunning itself. Or a lion, she supposed.

  She stuck two pieces of bread into the toaster then paused at her dish rack. One plate or two?

  A moment later, she found herself calling out from the entry. “Tea or coffee?”

  Man oh man. She was supposed to keep her nutty stranger at arm’s length, not offer breakfast. But Liam flashed that winning smile, and she melted all over again.

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

  “Earl Grey?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Toast?” The moment she offered, she nearly slapped a hand over her mouth. What the heck was she doing?

  He beamed. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  She headed back down, shaking her head at herself. Who was the crazy one now?

  She stomped to the galley, humming — humming! — while she made breakfast for two. Then she looked over it all. The toast, the jam. The cream, sugar, and saucers. How was she going to get all that up on deck?

  She thumped a fist on the counter. No, she was not going to invite Liam in. No way. Even if he begged.

  The thing was, he didn’t beg. He simply sat outside, not expecting anything from her at all except the honor of guarding her. And finally, she gave in.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  His eyes lit up, and for some reason, her heart soared. “Aren’t you a gem.” Then he grinned. “Gem — Gemma. I reckon your parents knew what they had when you came along.”

  She stood, torn between laughing and crying. He was so charming. So mixed up. Which was tragic, really. A nice, young, good-looking guy like that. He’d probably had a great future before it all got to be too much and his mind went. She looked around. The canal was fronted by some posh Georgian mansions, and she pictured his poor mother, wondering where her son, the emotionally scarred war veteran, had wandered off to.

  Except, he didn’t appear emotionally scarred. He was big, tough, and totally in charge of his world. And, oops, she’d been staring too long, because he tilted his head.

  “Everything all right?” His smile faded. “Oh. It’s all right. I can stay out here.”

  She waved her arms. “No, come in. Please.”

  Then she caught herself. Yeesh. Now she was the one begging him.

  “I don’t mind. It’s fine out here.”

  She buried her face in her hands. Was it legal to be so disarmingly cute?

  “Um, Gemma?”

  God, what a sucker she was. “I mean it,” she insisted. “Come in.”

  Which was how she found herself serving breakfast for two, not one, in the compact living room of the boat. Telling herself that it was perfectly safe with Liam squeezed in behind the table like that. He cupped his hands around the mug, warming them, and she felt guilty for not inviting him in sooner.

  “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Both, please.”

  He looked around her tiny home as she brought everything over, making her slightly self-conscious.

  “Sorry. It’s not as tidy as it should be.”

  He chuckled. “You should see my place.”

  She laughed, and he motioned to the papers she’d left on the table. “May I?” When she nodded, he leafed through them. “Wow.”

  “Wow?”

  He sipped his tea, then pointed to the fliers and brochures. “Safer Parks Panel. Reptile Rescue Center. The Towpath Task Force…”

  “You don’t think those are worthwhile causes?”

  “I do. They are. Absolutely. It’s just…” He considered for a minute. “I suppose I wonder what makes a Yank so committed to local causes.”

  Sometimes, she wondered too. She’d sworn to keep a low profile for a while, but she hadn’t been able to help herself from pitching in.

  “I see rubbish in the canal, and I want to do something about it — something more than picking up a piece today and another piece tomorrow. I want to stop it for good. I see people treated differently because of the color of their skin, and I have to speak up. I want to see things really change.”

  Liam shot her a smile. “I suppose I shouldn’t get you started on animal rights.”

  “Don’t,” she agreed. Then she thought back. “I get it from my parents. I went to my first rally in one of those baby backpacks, and I’ve been going ever since.”

  “And are you satisfied with progress on these causes?”

  She snorted. “Far from. Sometimes it’s like Sisyphus — the guy who’s destined to roll a boulder up a mountain for all eternity, only to have it roll back down. But when I really think about it, yes. There has been progress — slow but steady, thanks to people who keep chipping away.”

  She hurriedly set out the toast and jam, giving her guest an easy out. Most people politely tuned out when she got going on the causes she cared about. But Liam chewed thoughtfully on his toast, and she could see him considering what she’d said.

  “Fitting,” he murmured.

  She cocked her head. “What?”

  He jolted a little then hurriedly patted his belly. “Um, filling. Thank you. Delicious.”

  She laughed. “Would you like more?”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” He gulp
ed his tea, then looked into the cup. “It’s funny, that.”

  She put two more slices in the toaster and waited for him to finish.

  He studied the depths of his tea. “I went into the military thinking I could fight for a good cause — literally fight.” He flashed a weak smile. “And for the most part, we did. But the more I think about it, the more I think your way is better. And there are fewer casualties. That’s a plus.” His tone made clear that was a joke, but his eyes didn’t play along. “Definitely a plus,” he murmured before taking another long sip.

  “I guess there are pluses to both ways,” she said, trying not to imagine the toughest situations he must have witnessed — the kind that had tipped him over the edge.

  Liam waved around, changing the subject quickly. “How do you like living on a boat?”

  That brought back her smile. “I love it. It’s cozy.”

  He laughed. “Cozy, huh?”

  “Yep. I have everything I want in arm’s reach.” She demonstrated, extending her arms to each side. “The boat is barely six feet across and only forty feet long, but I have everything I need. Well, at least for the next month or so.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “What then?”

  “Then the owner comes home, and I have to find a new place. If I’m still in London, that is.”

  Liam’s face fell, and she felt a pang of regret. She only had the vaguest of plans, but none of them involved staying in London more than a few months, which wasn’t very long. Just enough time to get to know a charming young stranger and possibly convince him to get psychiatric help. Not enough time, really, but plenty to fall in love.

  Their eyes locked, and she could feel him mourn too. But then the next batch of toast popped up, and she hurried to transfer it to his plate. Liam slathered it with butter and jam and devoured it in two bites. Boy, did he have an appetite.

  “Anyway, I’ve got everything I need. A miniature wood-burning stove, a fridge, a view…” She popped open the window just as a dragonfly flitted past. “It even has a shower.”

  “You’re joking. This place has a shower?”

  She nodded proudly. “Look. Over here.”

  And oops, there she was, giving him a tour, allowing him ever deeper into her private world.

  “Bathroom… Closet…”

  She led him down the length of the boat, trying not to get flustered. But the narrow passageway forced them to get close — nice and close — and her cheeks started to heat.

  “Bedroom,” she said then turned quickly. That brought her practically into his arms, and the worst part was, she wouldn’t have minded staying there. But she skittered away. “Sorry.”

  Liam’s eyes shone. Or was that a trick of the light?

  “That bunk is a little tight, isn’t it?”

  She looked him over. Yeah, for a guy his size. As it was, he had to stoop slightly to avoid hitting his head in the hall. But the place suited her perfectly.

  “That bed is cozy,” she corrected.

  He laughed and stuck up his hands. “Got it. Cozy. Can you even stretch out in there?”

  She was tempted — so, so tempted — to show him just how much space there was to stretch out — not just for one person, but for two. Instead, she motioned him back down the hall. “It’s really comfortable. The engine compartment is down there.”

  He turned with a grin. “Engine compartment, huh?”

  Then she stopped in her tracks — so suddenly, Liam bumped into her again.

  “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “I just remembered. It’s the eighteenth, right? I have to move the boat.”

  Liam nodded sagely. “Smart move. Dragons can’t trace your scent over the water.”

  She closed her eyes. Just when she got to thinking Liam wasn’t so crazy, he’d remind her how off his rocker he was.

  “No — my two weeks here are up. Shoot.” She stepped into the kitchen and started stowing things. “I’d better get going. No telling how long it will take to find a new spot.”

  Liam handed her the dishes. “Can I help?”

  The answer, she knew, had to be no. She’d already let down her guard too far. But when she considered the dock lines and the tight corners she would have to navigate around…

  “Don’t you have someplace you have to go?” she asked.

  “I have time.”

  And thus, she found herself with a deckhand for the next hour and a half. One who proved himself to be more than mere eye candy as he hopped efficiently around deck.

  “Ready?” she called once she’d coaxed the engine to life.

  Liam held up the stern line. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

  That was the best part — he didn’t try to take over as so many men might have. No suggestions, no amused looks, no If I were you, I’d do it this way comments. He simply followed her directions — and, wow. He even fished some plastic out of the canal while he was at it. Finally, he untied the lines, hopped aboard, and stood beside her as they got under way.

  “Nice,” he murmured as she piloted Valhalla into the center of the canal.

  “It is. A whole new perspective on London, huh?”

  It was magical, in fact. The mist was slowly rising, and shafts of light angled down as the sun steadily broke through the clouds. The boat puttered along at two knots — a slow walking pace, in other words — and the scenery slipped silently by.

  “So, tell me about dragons,” she ventured. “Lions. All those…shifters, right?”

  Liam glanced her way, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. “You don’t believe in them.”

  “Let’s say I wanted to educate myself.”

  He chuckled. “All right, then. A group of shifters watches over the city. They’re called the Guardians. Most of them are lions, but there are also bears, dragons, and other types.”

  “What other types?”

  He flapped a hand casually. “Oh, you know. Wolves. Giant deer. Unicorns.”

  “Unicorns?”

  “Just a few. Traditionally, lions rule London. They have for centuries. See that?”

  He pointed to a mooring ring embedded in the stone wall — a ring held in the mouth of a bronze lion’s face. Gemma looked at Liam. That was his proof?

  “Think about it,” he went on. “There are lions all over London. Trafalgar Square. Buckingham Palace. All along the embankment.”

  “That’s because lions are a symbol of England.”

  “Because we guard the city.” He sighed. “At least, we try to. Oh — I have another one. The South Bank lion.”

  He continued in that vein, and Gemma’s pursed lips grew ever tighter. Was Liam in cahoots with her father? Unlikely. Her father’s warnings were all vague and centered on dragons. Liam’s went into so much detail, it was tempting to believe him at times. And, hey. Who wouldn’t want to believe in a world of good guys, bad guys, and unicorns?

  But she wasn’t a little girl any more, and she had enough real-world problems. Why use her imagination to create more? Liam, on the other hand… Well, she decided not to push him on it. Maybe he needed to transfer wartime experiences into a fantasy world. Maybe someday, that would help his poor, damaged mind heal. But until then…

  “Maybe it will turn out to be a nice day after all,” she said, changing the subject.

  “It already is.” Liam made a sweeping motion. “I get my own little cruise.”

  She laughed — it was impossible not to around Liam — and abruptly swung the wheel to starboard. “Oh — there’s a spot.”

  Soon — too soon, really — they got Valhalla tied up again. She checked her watch. If she hurried, she could even make it to work on time, and to the Safer Parks meeting afterward. She ordered Liam out while she showered and changed, then rushed around, locking up the boat.

  “Where are you going?” Liam asked when she stepped onto the towpath.

  “Work.” She paused and tried to get herself together. No matter how nice it was to have Liam around, she had to get real
— and so did he. “Look. I have a life. A job. A meeting to attend. And you…” She paused, then spoke more gently. “You need to get help. There are lots of counseling services out there and lots of people like you dealing with PTSD.”

  He waved a hand, unconcerned. “I need to see you safely to work.”

  She stuck up a hand in a stop sign. “No. Absolutely not. You will do no such thing.”

  And yet, he followed her. Happily, it seemed.

  “Liam,” she started.

  He sighed. “All right, all right. If I promise to get help, will you let me walk you to work?”

  Just the thought of another half hour with him made her heart skip, and — against her better judgment — she gave in again.

  “All right already. But really — you have to promise to get help. I mean it, Liam.”

  His eyes swirled and danced as he put his hand over his heart. “For you, anything. I promise.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Now what?” Gemma muttered, glancing up at the commotion outside.

  She had been reading in her bunk on Valhalla — make that, trying to read — as she would on any other night. Three days had passed since that morning on the Tube, and she hadn’t seen that Petro look-alike again. Either she’d been imagining things, or having Liam around was paying off. Liam was probably outside at that very moment, as he had been every night.

  How he managed, she had no clue. But he seemed perfectly content hanging around all night and keeping watch over her for most of the day. Whenever Liam left, his friend Sergio would take over guard duty. Gemma didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how seriously they took their fantasy world. Had they undergone some kind of mental experiments in the military that had warped their minds? It was a pity, because Sergio, like Liam, had everything going for him, from smoldering good looks to startlingly quick reflexes and an amazing sense of fashion. The man could have modeled for Armani, Hermes, Rolex, or any other high-end product.

  But, boy. They were so earnestly committed to their misguided cause, Gemma found it hard to draw a line — especially with Liam. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to grow too close to him, but he was so adorably sweet, and the chemistry between them… Well, it was off the charts. Every time she saw him, her nerves would jangle and she would bump into things. Every time he left, no matter how briefly, something in her ached. And every night, he featured in her dreams.