Or was that just her imagination? She had guarded the truth of her origin for four years. Perhaps the constant vigilance made her suspect everyone of trying to discern it.

When he didn't respond to that lie, she covered her unease with a dramatic sigh. "In truth," she said, "Australia would be far more exciting, but alas, Norway it was-and is where I am bound again."

"You fly out immediately?"

Perhaps Annika imagined the sudden tension in his voice, but she couldn't mistake the way his gaze moved over her face, as if searching for the answer-or hoping for a specific reply. "The airship departs later tonight," she confirmed.

The stranger's lips tightened before resolve seemed to firm his expression. He nodded. "En route to Bergen?"

Eventually. Phateon was scheduled to fly to the Norwegian port within a month, but it would not be a direct flight.

"Yes," she said, her unease deepening. Why did he ask so specifically? Perhaps he was only making small talk, but she wasn't comfortable with the direction he'd taken. Best to change the subject.

And if this truly was conversation, it was time that she held up her part and made intrusive inquiries of her own. "Will you also be departing soon? Or do you make a habit of waiting near port gates and running to a stranger's aid?"

"No. Typically, I run after erupting volcanoes."

"To study them?" Annika guessed. She couldn't think of any other reason to do such a thing-and only if it paid well. "That is your profession?"

When he nodded, she studied him more closely. What sort of person made a living from such a thing? She had witnessed eruptions in Iceland before, and would have said that only a reckless fool would go chasing after one. This man didn't appear foolish, however, and his manner seemed too contained to be reckless. Something else must be driving him to pursue such a dangerous occupation, something that he didn't readily show.

Asking him to reveal that reason, however, would require Annika to venture beyond the boundaries of intrusive and into unforgivably rude. Even she couldn't cross that line. She settled for, "I didn't realize volcanoes were so fast that one had to run after them."

His amus.e.m.e.nt returned. "In truth, I more often run away from them."

She arched her brows and glanced at his mechanical hand, still clasped behind his back. "Not always fast enough?"

"No, that was another sort of explosion." His gaze narrowed. "You've spent time in England."

"In England? Well-Yes?" Confusion tripped her up. What an odd response. She had spent a little time in that country when Phateon's route took her there. But why would such a statement follow hers . . . Oh.

Fierce heat bloomed in her cheeks. Prosthetics and mechanical apparatuses were so common in England as to be unremarkable. But in the New World, such topics were handled with delicacy, if not outright avoided. Her insensitive comment must have distressed him, though he hid it well. Perhaps that was an indication of his fine manners; he didn't point out her lack of them, though he had every reason to.

She had long come to terms with her failings, but Annika hated knowing that she might have hurt someone with them. "I am so sorry. How horrid of me to make light of injuries that must have been painful."

He shrugged. "And long ago."

Was he dismissing the topic or her apology? He didn't seem distressed, but rather uninterested in discussing himself-and examining her features as if interested in her. Well, if he wanted to know what sort of woman she was, he was soon to learn that she had difficulty letting anything go without proper resolution.

"Whenever it happened, I am sorry for my words now," she said. "I'm often told that I don't possess any proper sensibilities, but that doesn't excuse-"

"Who tells you this?"

"Everyone," she said ruefully, and the stranger laughed before subjecting her to a considering look.

"If you wish to make amends," he said, "eat supper with me now."

That was not an offer she expected to come from someone with manners. Not offended, but incredibly surprised, she shook her head. "Pardon? I believe I misheard."

"Share a meal with me at the inn," he said unmistakably, before softening his expression with a smile. "I wouldn't take advantage of a woman's obligation to me, but I have no choice. If you leave this evening, I'll have no other opportunity to enjoy your company, and I want to know you better."

The intensity of his gaze deepened as he spoke, as if the entirety of his being had focused on gaining her consent. Annika stared up at him, uncertain how to respond. She'd have liked to spend more time with him, too. She wanted to know why he chased volcanoes, and what had possessed him to come to her aid-and there was nothing that forbade her from sharing a meal with someone. But her instincts were ringing, and she couldn't ignore the alarm they raised. She had been propositioned before. She'd been flirted with before. This was . . . different. Though she couldn't have articulated why she felt the need to be wary, Annika was certain that this man wanted something from her-but not company, not courting, not even to share a bed.

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling very stiff. "The captain has asked that we all return to the airship early, so that we're aboard before the storm hits."

He nodded, but she saw the clench of his jaw, the frustration that suddenly shadowed his expression. Annika continued her brisk pace. The stranger remained at her side, but as they crossed from the cobblestones onto the wooden docks, the rumble of lorry engines and the shouts of the stevedores made further conversation impossible. Annika walked in silence, her thoughts in tumult. Perhaps she'd been mistaken? Perhaps she was only wary because his offer had been so unexpected. Perhaps she'd just insulted him again.

If so, nothing could be done now. With relief, she reached Phateon's mooring station. The cargo lift had been raised against the side of the airship, but the ladder hung down to the docking boards.

Annika stopped and folded her umbrella before turning to the stranger, who had tilted his head back to look up at the airship. She had to tilt her head back to look at him. Oh, he was quite tall-and so close. Rarely did Annika feel small, but standing next to him, she did. "Thank you again."

His gaze lowered. Though his smile had not returned, she thought he seemed pleased. Satisfied, perhaps. "You travel aboard Phateon? I've heard that she's a fine ship."

"Yes." She caught the rope ladder, steadied it. "Very fine."

He nodded. "I will leave you, then. I wish you a safe journey, miss."

"I wish the same for you."

Politely, he touched his hat-and stood, waiting . . . for her to climb safely aboard, she realized, and felt silly of a sudden. All this way, he had only been helpful. It had been kind of him to stay with her until he'd made certain that she'd arrived at her destination unharmed. It had been kind of him to offer a meal.

Still, Annika sensed his gaze on her as she climbed the ladder-and could not shake the feeling that the stranger hadn't gotten what he wanted, and that he wasn't done with her. That she would see him again, that he would be waiting for her in Bergen . . . or somewhere else.

But perhaps that was only her imagination.

t.i.tles by Meljean Brook.

DEMON ANGEL.

DEMON MOON.

DEMON NIGHT.

DEMON BOUND.

DEMON FORGED.

DEMON BLOOD.

DEMON MARKED.

THE IRON DUKE.

HEART OF STEEL.

RIVETED.

Anthologies.

HOT SPELL.

(with Emma Holly, Lora Leigh, and Shiloh Walker).

WILD THING.

(with Maggie Shayne, Marjorie M. Liu, and Alyssa Day).

FIRST BLOOD.

(with Susan Sizemore, Erin McCarthy, and Chris Marie Green).

MUST LOVE h.e.l.lHOUNDS.

(with Charlaine Harris, Nalini Singh, and Ilona Andrews).

BURNING UP.

(with Angela Knight, Nalini Singh, and Virginia Kantra).

ANGEL OF DARKNESS.

(with Nalini Singh, Ilona Andrews, and Sharon Shinn).