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??Yes, very.” She nodded. Honestly. This was her job, one that she was good at. And she owed people—her editor who believed in her and the readers who looked forward to it every week to not only make it timely, but interesting. And show them all that those complaints were meaningless.
“All right.” David stuck his pointer finger in the vial and lifted it towards her face. “Allow me.” He frowned, inches from the skin. “I feel silly. Do you feel silly?”
“A little.” Though she bit her lip, as he glided along the skin, willing herself not to do something inappropriate like guide the finger into her mouth again. Because, even though they were alone... Focus, she needed to focus. Column, remember. Amalia ground her jaw. “Oh. It was said to have healing properties so...”
“Other glove?” He already had her hand in his, massaging the sore area.
“Yes, please.” She sighed a little. She could get used to this treatment. Had anyone ever been so attentive? Amalia gazed at him. If only she could read minds. “You’re very good at that.” She crossed her ankles tighter. “Very good.”
“I try.” David’s lip tipped a little, but he ducked his head down as he continued to tend to her.
He really was skilled. How? “Did Meg teach you?” she asked.
“Meg?” David’s brow wrinkled but he didn’t stop.
“Because she’s a nurse, and your friend.” Amalia worked to keep the twinge of jealousy out of her voice, but no, she was never destined to be an actress.
David snorted a little. “She’s more Will’s friend. His very close friend, if you get my meaning. But no, she didn’t teach me.” He patted her hand and laid it back on her lap, but didn’t let it go. “I just figured out how to make things feel better. I get a lot of aches.”
“From the war.” Her voiced became a whisper as a million horrible images, the ones that haunted her nightmares, flitted inside her head.
“From pulling a cart.” David shifted in his seat, the cuff of his jacket brushing her bare skin. “And working a press at a paper factory. And slinging newspapers. And laying bricks. And carting boxes at a slaughterhouse.”
“You did all of that?” Amalia’s mind reeled.
“Yes, ma’am.” He stroked her thumb again. “Do it still. Sometimes to gather information as a Pinkerton agent, sometimes to earn a little extra on the side.”
“Why?” She bit her lip. “Well, you said why but for the latter, it can’t be very lucrative. There have to be better things. You aren’t a dullard like me.”
“A glowing endorsement.” David smirked at her. “Though you, madam, are no fool. Mathematical ability isn’t everything. Besides, there is no shame in labor. In a fair society it would be valued as much as medicine or law or even banking.”
“You know what I mean.” She nudged his shoulder. “And even if they were compensated equally, I’d still venture you’d be better suited for things that require using your mind, not your arms. I may not be completely foolish—though I have a few family members who might disagree with that assessment—but you’re a great deal smarter than I am and more capable.” Amalia twisted a fallen curl around the fingers on her good hand.
He kissed her injured hand and she sighed. “Hence why I’m a Pinkerton. Though sometimes I have my doubts. The organization includes a lot of people who think unions are dangerous. I tell myself I want this promotion, in part, to change things from within, but I wonder...”
She opened her mouth to prod him to finish but he shook his head.
“Amalia, we can’t be lovers.” David pulled back and tugged at his hair, his eyes serious.
“Why?” Blazes, was that a hitch in her voice? No. She had to remain in control to argue it correctly. Even if she couldn’t have the full fairy tale, they could create their own story, right? If he didn’t want marriage, fine. It was only a piece of paper, after all. One that you could dissolve, if you had means. She, of all people, didn’t need to be protected from him. “I mean you seemed to enjoy what we did and I didn’t even get a chance to—”
The train lurched to a halt. She would’ve flown to the other side of the room and hit her head if David hadn’t caught her. The force of her body against his was enough to knock him to the floor though, her on top of him.
His chest heaved below her as he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her against him. “Shhh,” he whispered in her ear.
For a moment the world paused. Complete silence except both their breaths, synchronizing as they lay on the floor. Body to body, heart against heart, until pandemonium broke loose.
“Fire. Everyone out.” The call came loud and clear, through the door, over the noise.
Screams assaulted them from all directions and the pounding from fists on doors echoed throughout the train. Amalia hitched forward, ready to stand, ready to move, but David forced her still.
What was he doing? She clutched his hand and squeezed. “We have to leave. You heard them. Fire.”
“We’ll get trampled.” He pulled her behind his body, shielding her, from a half-standing, half-sitting position. “Amalia, you know this can’t be an accident.”
Shivering, Amalia huddled against his back, as an acrid odor burnt the inside of her nose. “Probably, but at the moment, what does it matter? We need to leave so we don’t, you know, burn to death. Besides, we need to find Meg and Will.”
“They’ll take care of each other.” David muttered the words almost to himself before he coughed. “I’m getting you out of here and we are not getting back on the train.” With that he sank to the floor, guiding her down beside him.
