The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie

“Not necessarily. If I can get a fuel pump efficient enough, I can make it go with the same amount as the smaller engines.” Daniel patted the cylinder block. “And if I can make a powerful enough engine, I can build the fastest motorcar in the world.”

Violet didn’t ask him why he’d want to. She knew. To speed along at a breathless pace, to feel the wind on her face, to laugh at people’s astonishment as the motorcar flew on by . . .

“I do have a few problems, though.” Daniel rubbed his forehead. “Besides how to keep it cool, I mean. I need to redesign the wheels—a simple rubber strip on carriage wheels won’t work at these speeds. I have a man at a rubber factory doing some ideas for me now—I want to use air pressure to create a cushion. Plus I’m not happy with the tiller as a steering mechanism.”

“You have another problem,” Violet said.

Daniel looked the motorcar over again. “Don’t think so. I’ve thought it through pretty thoroughly, love.”

“That problem is—how are you going to get it out of your parlor once it’s built?”

The engine was already too wide, the shaft too long, to maneuver the car out the door and down the hallway.

Daniel slanted her an amused look. “I did think of that, my sweet. I’ll be taking it apart again, won’t I? While you’re buying new frocks with my stepmother, I’ll pack all this up and have it hauled down to Berkshire. Dad’s fixed up one of the large outbuildings for it. Dad has no interest at all in engines, but he indulges me in space to tinker.”

Daniel loved this hunk of metal. Violet saw it in the way he looked upon his creation, in the way he laid a tender hand on it. She was excited about it too—she’d always had an unladylike fascination with motorcars, steam engines, and other machines.

“I’d be interested to see it go when you’re finished,” she said.

“See it go? Vi, my love, you’re going to help me make it go. That’s why I brought you here today. I need your help to finish the thing. I thought if you saw it, you’d be more eager.”

“My help?” Violet stared in surprise. “How can I help build a motorcar?”

“Because you understand mechanics. I knew that as soon as I saw your wind machine, and you so proudly said you’d put it together yourself. I could use your knowledge to design the cooling pumps, which won’t be much different from your wind machine. Ye have a keen mind, lass. I intend to use it.” He grinned at her. “Did you think it was only your body I was after?”

Violet let out a nervous laugh. “I knew you were wooing me for my machines.”

“Oh, I’m wooing you for an entirely different reason. The fact that you can build intricate machines is a separate blessing.”

Violet imagined any other lady growing offended at his words. Lady Victoria, the debutante who’d clung so tightly to Daniel in Marseille, would have walked off in a huff. Violet only wanted to laugh.

Daniel came around the engine to her, his arm stealing around her waist. “Say you’ll help me, Vi. I want this done for the time trials in Paris, and I want you by my side when we win them.”

Violet could never think properly when Daniel was close to her. He was warm in the cold of this shut-up dusty house, with its treasure in the back parlor. When he was near her, she wanted to do anything for him, be anything for him.

And to kiss him. She rose on her tiptoes, sliding up his body, and kissed his lips. Daniel was still angry with her, she saw that under his teasing, but she couldn’t stay away from him.

Daniel’s mouth was stiff, his whiskers rough under her lips. He returned the pressure but without his usual heat.

Violet kissed him again. Daniel made a surrendering noise in his throat, and this time, his answering kiss was fierce. He crushed her up to him, his broad hand forming to her backside.

Violet slid her hands up his back, wishing the thick greatcoat and the clothes beneath were gone. Touching his skin in the hotel in Marseille had been heady, licking sweet chocolate from it had been heaven itself. What they’d done in his small apartment, with his papers crinkling under her on the sofa, had sent her to madness.

She wanted the fire of his mouth on her opening again, the touch that had spiraled her to joy. That madness had held no pain, only the sensation of soaring free.

I need you with me every moment, Daniel Mackenzie. And it terrifies me.

Violet never heard the footstep through the roaring in her ears, but she became aware of a presence in the room. She broke the kiss and stepped back.

Daniel looked at Violet in puzzlement, brows drawn, his attention all for her. Then he lifted his head and saw the man in a greatcoat standing next to the motorcar, running a gloved finger over the cylinder block.

“Uncle Ian.”

Daniel’s words were a greeting, but the man didn’t turn around.

Daniel didn’t seem bothered by the abrupt appearance of his uncle. Ian didn’t look at Daniel but continued gazing at the motorcar and its configuration of gears as though he saw and understood every nuance.

“Well?” Daniel asked. “Have I got it?”

Ian turned his head slowly, finally looking straight at Daniel. He had golden eyes, lighter than Daniel’s, and as penetrating as a hawk’s. “Yes,” he said.

Chapter 25

Daniel went to Ian and clapped him on the shoulder then quickly removed his hand as though worried how his uncle would react to his touch. “Thank you.”