Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

men at the game table stood and extended their hands to his companions. Oh, finally . Annika took a moment to steady her nerves and to study him—a study that was far more interesting that a schematic had been. His legs were likely the same sort of skeletal prosthetics as his hand; unfortunately, his wool trousers concealed their design. Dinner gloves hid his hands now, too—but the absence of the garments he’d removed since she’d last seen him revealed more.
    Without his brimmed hat, no shadows obscured his features. More ragged scars cut through the hairline at his left temple and bisected the eyebrow over his gleaming lens apparatus. His black hair was combed straight back from a broad forehead and skimmed the bottom edge of his collar. The overcoat he’d worn on the docksadded bulk he didn’t actually carry—as did his jacket now. The heavy tweed fit him horribly. His shoulders were wide, his torso tapering to lean hips, but his clothes might as well have been cut to fit a box. She hoped he had not paid much money for them.
    Perhaps he would soon win enough for a new jacket, though. At the game table, the first mate gestured to the patolli board, inviting Lucia and the passengers to join them. The older man responded eagerly, friendly avarice in his tone. Oh. Annika glanced down at the generator manual, surprised by her disappointment. A moment ago, she’d wanted to escape. Now she wished that there was enough time before first watch to join the game.
    She looked up and found David Kentewess’s gaze on her again. A moment later, the older man’s eyes lighted on her. He blinked and turned to the doctor, then to her nephew. Annika couldn’t hear what he said, but she saw Lucia’s quick glance in Annika’s direction. After a word with those settling in around the game table, the doctor started across the wardroom.
    Kentewess left the others and accompanied her. Standing, Annika forced herself to look away from him and greeted his aunt, who responded with a curious arch of her brows.
    “Mr. Dooley wanted to know whether you’d had any additional trouble from the port officers. I wasn’t aware that you’d had any trouble at all. Is everything well?”
    “Oh, yes. I was detained at the port gates. Your nephew bravely rescued me.”
    “ Rescued you? Why, he mentioned nothing of it.”
    When his aunt slanted him an inquiring glance, Kentewess flushed. “It was nothing, Aunt Lucia. Only a miscommunication.”
    “Nothing to you, perhaps,” Annika said. “But considering what might have happened if that miscommunication hadn’t been resolved, it meant everything to me.”
    He seemed to still, holding her gaze. “Did it?”
    “Perhaps not everything ,” she had to admit, and looked toLucia. “He’s right to question me. Only minutes after he risked himself to confront the port officer, I rejected his company.”
    Oh, she must have exposed her lack of proper sensibilities again. Lucia’s mouth opened, but she seemed at a loss for words. With wide eyes, the woman looked to her nephew, who didn’t appear taken aback.
    “I told her that you did,” he said to Annika. “But at the time, she thought I spoke of someone else.”
    And Lucia likely felt awkward now for asking to introduce them. Well, there was no reason for that. “I began wishing that I hadn’t rejected your offer shortly after I boarded—and I wished it all the more after I saw what Cook sent up for our supper.”
    The right corner of his mouth lifted. “Will you accept the company now?”
    “I will be happy to.” Though only one other seat had been grouped in this corner. Not enough for the three of them. “Give me one moment to drag the extra chair over from the library—”
    “I’ll do it,” he said before she could take a step.
    Lucia stopped them both with a lift of her hand. “David, you go ahead and sit, dear. I intend to win a round at the table.”
    She left them with a smile and swish of her skirts. Kentewess glanced at Annika’s chair, then to the one on her right—reluctantly, it seemed, as if he’d have rather chosen her seat. He sat after she did, his back ramrod straight. The light from the lamp on the small table between them glinted off the thin steel casing of his eyepiece and reflected in the lens. Not speaking, he simply looked at her.
    His obvious discomfort sparked her own. Suddenly uncertain, Annika searched for something to say, and could only come up with, “Thank you. Again.”
    “You