Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

we know how much ash they eject, how high it goes, where the wind takes it, we can help people prepare for long winters, low harvests.”
    She looked up at him, a new light in her eyes, as if seeing him now in a different manner. “That’s…admirable. I thought you might be seeking glory.”
    That startled a laugh from him. “No. There’s not much glory to be had. Most of the work is tedious and dirty, the weatheralways too hot or too cold, and in the middle of an expedition I often have to remind myself why the hell I’m risking my life for it.”
    “Yet you still make something good out of it.”
    “Volcanoes do that, too.” He was determined to make a believer of her before the night was through. She listened so closely, rapt—no doubt she’d soon be fascinated, too. “For all of their destruction, they create even more. New islands, new lands. All of Iceland.”
    She slanted him a disbelieving glance.
    “I swear it,” he said.
    With a nod, she looked out over the water, her gaze sweeping the mountains in the distance, the shoreline nearby. Seeing them differently, he thought.
    “That’s a much better answer than glory,” she said softly.
    “Don’t think too much of it. I wouldn’t reject glory if it came to me.” He loved her quick laugh, her wry nod. Though in truth, he had rejected it—or at least the greatness that di Fiore had offered. David glanced toward the bow, where the ferry cruiser was tethered twenty yards away. “That’s Lorenzo di Fiore’s ship.”
    “The man building the rail?”
    The rail. She must have been one of the few people who didn’t hear the di Fiore name and immediately think of Inoka Mountain. “Yes. Dooley and I had dinner with him.”
    “What was he like?”
    Broken, he thought. Broken long ago by his father’s disgrace, and put back together in the wrong way. David couldn’t pity him for that—but perhaps that was his own failing, the effect of his own past.
    And what was di Fiore like now? “He’s the sort of man who never seems to listen during a conversation. He only waits for his turn to speak.”
    Annika wrinkled her nose and made a strangled noise in the back of her throat.
    David laughed, nodded. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
    “So you didn’t like him.”
    “Not particularly, no. But I never expect to get along with anyone quickly.”
    Her gaze lifted to his, her humor softening into a wistful sigh. “Neither do I.”
    He wanted to see her smile again. “I had an advantage, if you recall—my odor wasn’t offensive.”
    He was rewarded by the curve of her lips, a flash of her teeth.
    “Oh, yes,” she said, and leaned closer, her face nearing his throat. David froze. He felt the warmth of her breath, caught the scent of her hair—like rosemary, or the heated pine of a forest in the summer. She inhaled and drew back, turning toward the warmers with her hands pressed to her cheeks. “You’re still all right.”
    “Good.” David could barely manage that. He turned again, hiding his body’s response.
    She glanced at his face before looking away. Her eyes closed briefly, then she peeked at him again. “Was that a soap? It was nice.”
    “Shaving soap.”
    He heard the roughness of his voice. God. She could come close again, if she wanted to, smell it for as long she liked.
    “Oh.” She bit her lip, seemed to hesitate before saying, “Mary Chandler is the worst person to learn anything from. She said that native men don’t have to shave, and that is why they never wear a beard.”
    “Perhaps some don’t. I do, but I don’t have to shave often—yet I know others who shave every day. Others pluck out the hairs as they grow in, starting when they are young men.”
    “So it is a fashion.”
    “For some. I know others who’ve grown out a beard—and most have been living in the cities for some time.”
    “Trying to fit in?”
    Or because they already did. “Yes.”
    A heavy sigh escaped her. “I don’t think I ever will fit in. Only at home—and even there, not in every way that I would like to.” She glanced up at him. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to be normal somewhere.”
    He knew that feeling—though he wasn’t feeling it now. “I think that place is here.”
    Her gaze followed the path of his hand as he indicated the space around them. She glanced up with a smile and a curious look.
    “Did you ever try to fit in?”
    “Not with the whites.” David thought of stopping there, but knew they weren’t just