He rubbed a hand over his eyes. The little weasel had told the truth about that at least. He was indeed searching for a Mr. A. Templeton.
He tapped the papers into a tidy pile and picked them up, along with the notebook. There was no desk in the workshop, nor any other boxes of books or papers he could see.
So now the device.
He hurried to the back of the room. It would be cylindrical, and there’d been no need for the fake Templeton to lie about the size. He had, after all, wanted them to find it. Quietly as he could, Edison opened the crates and boxes piled against the back wall. Several packages held empty cylinders, others coil upon coil of copper wire. The last three boxes contained nothing but plaster of Paris. Quite an excessive supply.
But no completed battery cells.
It wasn’t a sound that got his attention, so much as it was a feeling. And a scent. The same perfume, but stronger. More alive.
He had no interest in flowers, but if he had to guess, he would’ve guessed violets.
Not that the woman filling the doorway would care about his opinion. The revolver aimed at his chest spoke for itself.
Chapter 2
His body blocked much of the light from his lamp, leaving her features shadowed, allowing him little beyond a general impression. Tall, lithe and self-possessed, even without the gun she commanded respect.
“Good evening.” Edison smiled, letting his lips curve up until he could feel the muscles around his eyes relax. More than a few women had sworn that smile made their hearts beat faster. Might give him an advantage now.
“What are you after?” The steel in her voice suggested his effort was wasted.
It took but an instant to assess the situation. She held the gun tightly—too tightly to aim accurately. Her familiarity with firearms probably equalled his mastery of embroidery.
Slowly, calmly, as if facing a skittish deer, he set the papers down and raised his hands, palms up, fingers spread to show he was unarmed. “I’m here to meet with Mr. Templeton.”
“Mr. Templeton died five years ago.” A dark ringlet escaped her upswept hair and swung gently by her ear. “Stop wasting my time.”
Her gaze swept over him, cataloging everything, from his simple boots to his unfashionable clothing. “Tell whoever sent you that I have no interest in negotiating.”
The barrel of the gun vibrated as if her anger flowed through the weapon. “I have no interest in selling. No interest in partners. No interest in investors.”
And—he was certain—no interest in harming him. A fact he fully intended to exploit.
He nodded vigorously as he imagined some hired lackey faced with a deadly weapon would do. “I understand. I’ll be most happy to convey your message.” Then he jerked his head, as if startled by something behind her. “Watch out!”
At his warning, she turned. The instant she reacted, he was on her, plucking the gun from her hand.
Once she realized she’s been tricked, she backed away, eyes wide with anger. “You jammy bastard.”
Outrage heightened her allure. Her body was slender, willowy even. Tall as she was, he topped her by half a head and five stone. Maybe more. Yet she’d faced him down with nothing but a handgun she had no idea how to use.
She was brave, he’d give her that.
He wanted to grin in the worst way, but even his rudimentary instincts warned him that would be like throwing kerosine on a roaring fire. Slender and willowy didn’t mean meek and helpless. The muscles around his mouth strained to keep his lips from curving. Goading her now would be like poking an angry cat. Nothing lethal would result, but the scratches would sting like hell.
She squared her shoulders and folded her arms over her chest. “It’s not here, so tell whoever sent you to stop annoying me.”
He stepped closer. “No one sent me. I’m here to—”
“I’m not a fool. How else would you have known about…” Her voice trailed off as she clearly thought better of revealing any more.
“The device?”
She pressed her lips together and stared off over his shoulder.
Edison stepped closer. He wanted to take her hands, to ease the fear pinching her face. “We know about the battery.”
The color drained from her cheeks, but she held her ground, didn’t rush to fill the silence with silly chatter.
Edison rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin, considering. “A man came to us a few days back. Said he was a scientist. He swore someone had stolen his invention and all of his notes. He tried to hire us to retrieve them.”
“And here you are.”
“The only thing we believed was his intent to take the battery.” Edison stepped closer. “I’m here to help, to take it to a safe place.”
“Of course.” Sarcasm salted her words. “And if I refuse?”
Damnation, the woman was stubborn. With an ease borne of much practice, he broke the revolver open at the barrel and tipped it back to extract the bullets, but the gun was empty.
She’d faced him down—faced down hired thugs—with an empty weapon. The very thought made him lightheaded. “Quite a bluff,” he said.
She shrugged, as if responding was too much trouble.
He shoved the unloaded weapon into the waistband of his trousers. “This man called himself Templeton. A-something Templeton.”
Though she fought to control her response, that bit of information clearly caught her attention.
“He’s a slight man. Fussy dresser.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open, erasing all pretense of disinterest.
Her anguished expression made his gut twist. “Your husband.”
“No!”
“A… friend, then.” She was a mature woman after all. No reason she wouldn’t have a companion. Why the idea should be so disappointing, he had no idea.
“Lord no.” The woman grimaced as if she’d swallowed a noxious draught. “My stepbrother, Archibald Wells. He’s no Templeton.”
“Stepbrother or not, he’s hiring men to get the battery. Plans to pass it off as his own work.”
She smiled grimly. “So far, he’s been less than successful.” Her eyes glittered in the lamp light as she studied his broad shoulders. “Although hiring you is a clear step up.”
Edison tensed. His gaze went automatically to the shadows surrounding the building, alert for the slightest movement. “He’s sent men before?”
“Several times.” She shrugged. “None of them had anywhere near your abilities.”
“Which is why you’ve taken to confronting strange men in the middle of the night, armed with nothing but a toy.”
“I can shoot. I would do if absolutely required.” The shudder accompanying her boast robbed it of any persuasive force.
The urgency of the danger drew him closer until the scent of violets warmed by her skin filled his senses. “He won’t stop. Not until he knows the device is far out of his reach.” He stared into her dark eyes, willing her to understand the danger. “Let me help you. I can keep it safe. Tell me where to find Templeton. He’s after him, too.”
She dropped her gaze, and her mouth tightened, as if he’d disappointed her deeply. “Mr. Templeton is quite safe. I assure you.”