Clockwork Memories: Book Three in the Memory Thief Series Page 9

  I kneeled beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. I expected her to shrug away. When she didn’t, it gave me some confidence she might be willing to listen. “You’re still my dearest friend. And it’s my hope I’m still yours.”

  A hopeful smile flitted across her face before vanishing. I hugged her and she slumped against me.

  “You are still my best friend,” she said at last.

  The door swished open. Jacques chuckled and shook his head. “That’s enough of that. We must save some of those hugs and kisses for me, no?” He took Sumiko by the arm and led her out.

  I didn’t know how long I had before Jacques came to me. I tiptoed around the broken porcelain and furnishings as I busied myself with the preparation of fresh memory moss I’d gathered from the shower so it would be handy when I needed it. Even after I washed it from my hands, the citrus, lavender and mint perfume of it lingered on my skin.

  With that out of the way, I sat on the bed, my heart racing when I thought of Jacques coming in and what I’d have to do. One wrong word and he would know I intended to steal memories from him.

  I tried to pass the time by brushing my hair, but found it tangled with dried paste from the memory moss. As much as I didn’t want to leave myself vulnerable by taking a shower, I decided I’d be more likely to seduce a man’s memories from him if I didn’t smell, and I could at least make myself presentable.

  I made the shower quick and peeked out of the water closet as soon as I was done dressing in my chemise and a wrap. He hadn’t come in yet. That was a relief. My nerves were still on edge. Sleeping was out of the question, as tired as my body was.

  Instead I occupied my hands by using a seat cushion to sweep the broken furnishings to the corner of the room. The blankets on the floor had to be shaken out and the bed made. I scrubbed the blood from the dresser with a handkerchief, though there wasn’t much I could do about the blood on the blanket. Amongst the broken bits of pottery, I found a shard as large as a knife. I pressed it against a corner of blanket and found it was as sharp as a blade. I shoved that under the mattress within easy reach in case I had need of it later.

  My hands itched for busy work. Still alone and not knowing what else to do, I retrieved my sketches from a drawer. My stick of charcoal had broken into pieces, but I could make do with a small nub. The top sheet was a sketch of Sumiko. I shuffled that behind the rest. My next drawing was the strawberry plants from the ship’s botanical gardens that I had visited with Sumiko. I had sketched a pair of dark eyes watching from behind the plants. At first I’d thought I was creating Meriwether’s eyes, but they had become too dark. The lashes were thick, the brows arched in mischief. I’d considered how much they looked like someone I knew, only I hadn’t been able to put my finger on the resemblance.

  Now as I gazed at the eyes, I placed them as Jacques’. When I’d known him before, either he had possessed both his eyes, or had I simply drawn an idealized version of my forgotten lover. I tried to remember his face as I’d seen it in Sumiko’s memories. I didn’t remember an eyepatch.

  I slid the nub of charcoal over the paper to complete the long nose and the sensual lips. Too many other sketches on the page filled the space where I wanted to draw. I let the page fall to the floor and started another. Halfway into this one, I decided this one wasn’t right either. Somehow the man’s face became a combination of Meriwether and Jacques. Perhaps my heart and mind were in battle with each other. I shook my head at the thought. I did not love Jacques. He was a scoundrel. I might have loved him once, but I had found someone who cared for me as much as I loved him. There was no question I chose Meriwether over Jacques. Although that might change if my memories were returned.

  The door to my quarters swished open. I shoved the drawings behind me on the bed and stood. I clasped my hands in front of me. Charcoal blackened my fingers.

  “Pardon the intrusion,” Jacques bowed. “I was hoping I might have a word with you.”

  “You mean you wish to interrogate me?” That was what he had told his captain he would do, after all.

  “Ma chère et tendre, you have me all wrong. I already know all your secrets. I think it better the other way around.” He cleared his throat. “I owe you an explanation. Please, won’t you have a seat?”

  He stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot in agitation. The arrogant demeanor from earlier was replaced by something I couldn’t read.

  Reluctantly, I sat on my bed, though I feared doing so it might be deemed an invitation. I put up a hand as he approached. “You will remain an appropriate distance from my bed.”

  He looked around the room. Finding a partially splintered footstool, he drew it a few feet from my bed and attempted to sit on it, but it broke beneath him.

  “Mon Dieu! I must see to it that your room is properly furnished, no?” He laughed, and it was such a merry sound that it was hard for me not to laugh along with him.

  He pushed the cushion and shards of wood away and remained sitting on the floor. As our laughter died away, he turned his gaze to my feet. I realized too late his attention was arrested on one of my drawings peeking from under the bed. He picked it up and studied his visage half concealed behind the strawberries.

  “You are quite accomplished. You have captured me completely.” He leaned forward and set the drawing on my bed.

  “Not completely. I think I would do better not drawing from memory.”

  “Oui. That is what you told me before.” He reached into his breast pocket and removed a scrap of yellowed parchment. He unfolded it with the utmost care and held it out to me to see. It was a drawing of him.

  “I drew that.” Although I didn’t remember drawing it, I recognized my style. It was hard not to smile at the humor of the situation. I said, “Only a vain man would keep a drawing of himself tucked away on his person.”

  He slipped the drawing back into his pocket. “It is the only drawing you would make for me. You weren’t willing to make one of yourself. I had to be content with what you would give me.” His smile was sad. It wasn’t the mock earnestness I’d seen earlier.

  This sudden change in him only made me more suspicious. “I don’t suppose you’re here for me to paint a portrait of you then?”

  “I would be flattered for you to allow me so many moments in your presence, but no. Another time, perhaps.” He cleared his throat. “I apologize for my forwardness today. As you are a gentlelady, I realize how I must have insulted your sense of propriety. I should have made more of an effort to restrain myself, but seeing you again made me more excité than you can imagine.”

  “Indeed. It is more than I can imagine. One would think if you had been so eager to see me, you might have returned to Aynu-Mosir. Sumiko said—”

  He waved the air in front of his face as though her name were a bad smell. “Forget Sumiko for a moment. Do not allow her to persuade you against me. She is simply angry I did not return when I said I would.”

  “And should I not feel angry about this as well?”

  “Everything I did, I did for you!” He kneeled before me and took my hands in his. “If I was to deliver arms to Planet 157, I would have to commandeer a ship or be in charge of it. With the wealth of the red diamonds Mademoiselle Sumiko paid me, I bought myself a position of rank in the navy. I have bribed my way to the most powerful ship in this quadrant. Do you know why so many British and American ships have been shot down of late? It was my doing to protect you!” He kissed my hands. “To keep you from harm. Certainly the captain takes credit for the idea with the admiral. They see the advantage of keeping the planet free of further British occupation. Yet, the idea was mine. It took time to plant these seeds and let them grow. If you can only be patient and wait just a little longer, I will be captain of this ship. I will help you get your revenge on Lord Klark, and I will give the Jomon what they need to defeat the remaining British and Americans occupying their planet.”

  I wrenched my hands free of his. “Wh
at good will weapons do the Jomon if Aynu-Mosir is to be taken over by the French?”

  “You misunderstand me. The French will not conquer the planet. They may think they will, but I know otherwise. I listened to the messages Meriwether Klark sent out weeks ago. Our governments know the planet is inhabited. In six months, a fleet of reinforcements from America and Britain will secure the planet from further occupation. A treaty will be signed to restrict access. Planet 157 is a lost cause to the French.”

  My instincts told me he was lying. “Then what do you want with it?”

  “Nothing. Only you.” He flashed a hopeful smile.

  I said nothing.

  “Some trade perhaps. If you convince the nipa an exclusive contract for the red diamonds, you and I can live in luxury.”

  “You and I?” I repeated, more skeptical than ever.

  “Oui, and Mademoiselle Sumiko if it pleases you.” He took my hands in his again. “I do not blame you or her for becoming lovers. If she was willing to listen, I would tell her how relieved I am that at least someone was there for you when I could not be.” He kissed my knuckles.

  I didn’t know what was worse, him thinking Sumiko and I were lovers or him knowing we’d been conspiring against him with memory thievery. Unless he already knew the truth. Only days ago I had learned Meriwether had contrived a way to spy on Sumiko’s and my conversations using surveillance. Who was to say this man hadn’t as well? Of course, Meriwether was also a mechanical genius. Not everyone could do what he could.

  I wrenched my fingers free of his grip. “I can’t believe anything you say. You concealed the truth from me today and tried to keep Sumiko from telling me about you. About us.”

  He laid his head down in my lap. I was about to shove his head off my knee when he said, “Did she also tell you we are married?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Who knows? Perhaps your love will make me forget all I wish not to remember.

  —Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Alpha Centauri

  I was so surprised I leapt to my feet.

  Jacques fell back onto the floor in a way that would have been comical had the circumstances been different.

  I pointed at him with more indignation than I had ever felt. “If we were married, wouldn’t Sumiko have told me? Who would have married us? Don’t you think I would know if I were married?” I bit my lip, doubt planted in my mind. I had always been hesitant about bedding Meriwether. I had blamed it on my sense of Victorian propriety, but now I wondered if that was the case. Could it be that deep down I knew I was already married?

  He scooped me up in his arms. “My ship’s captain married us. It was a small crew then, three years back. I took him to the cave where we used to meet for that sole purpose. I couldn’t have him knowing where the Jomon lived. I agreed to keep their home secret for you. Don’t you see I would do anything for you?”

  I didn’t want to listen to this. It couldn’t be true. How would I ever be able to marry Meriwether if I was already married? I turned my face away from his. Tears filled my eyes. “You are a liar.”

  “No, mon âmour, I only wish I was. Do you know what it has been like to live with your memories inside me? They have colored everything I see and do. Sometimes I do not even feel like myself. Please take your memories.” He covered my face with kisses. “How can I convince you my love for you is true?”

  I was struck by how natural it felt being enclosed in his arms. His lips whispered over my jaw and down my neck. I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of his tongue tasting my skin.

  “Prove it.” My words came out in an airy rush. “If you love me and we are married as you say, prove it to me.” It was no act on my part to pretend to desire him when I pressed my lips to his.

  He broke away, panting. “I will return your memories. All of them. They have tortured me for over a year.” He kissed me ardently, thrusting his tongue into my mouth.

  I drank him in like a woman dying of thirst. It was no easy task keeping my wits about me. This had to be a ploy. Surely, he’d come here intending to convince me to give him my memories. Then again, he already had my memories. They might have tortured him as he said. He might want to be rid of them so that he would not be of two minds. Perhaps it was my love and my memories that fettered him to me. The conjecture was a long stretch, I knew. Even so, it gave me the determination I needed.

  I broke away. “Return my memories.”

  “Oui.”

  “Now.” I set the box of memory moss beside me.

  “As you wish, mon âmour.”

  I set about unbuttoning his coat. What if this man actually loved me as he claimed and there was no ulterior motive on his account for returning my memories? What if I was the unworthy one?

  One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “All this trouble of undressing me. Perhaps you think I have forgotten how memory exchange works.” His smile grew wider. “It has been a while, but I recall only the one receiving need undress. N’est-ce pas? I know your true intentions.”

  I swallowed. He had the right of it. Sumiko had shown me how to steal memories under the pretense of giving memories. I didn’t know if what she had taught me would work in the same way if his hands were on me, and he actually was giving me memories. I might not be able to control the flow as I had before.

  He leaned across me and pulled at the chain on the lamp on my nightstand, dimming it so that he was cast in romantic lighting. His lips brushed across my face and neck. My breath caught in my throat.

  He nibbled on my ear. “You wish to seduce me, no?”

  A nervous giggle escaped my lips and I squirmed away. He continued unbuttoning his waistcoat. I assisted with the buttons on his sleeves.

  “I want to give you a memory as well,” I said.

  “Oh? Haven’t you given me enough?”

  “It’s customary to share memories in an exchange like this. In the Jomon courtship ritual a man and a woman share equally to know each other.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. To court this man felt too much like a lie. And yet, was it, if we were already married?

  “And will you allow me to court you all over again? Will you run away with me after this?” he asked.

  “I suppose that depends on my memories.”

  He kissed me and took the bowl from me. “Where shall I touch you first? Will you loosen your décolletage so that I don’t smear the herbs on the pretty lace?”

  I frowned at that hungry gleam in his eyes.

  I untied my wrap. “It seems terribly unfair that you should have the privilege of knowing me and seeing me in all my nakedness while I haven’t the comfort of such familiarity.” My fingers twitched in nervousness as I loosened the string at the collar of my chemise.

  “That will change in but a moment.” His smile was calm and confident, which only unnerved me more.

  The collar of my chemise was low enough to show the hint of cleavage, though it wasn’t so low I wouldn’t stain it with memory moss. Did every garment I own have to become stained with green?

  “Here, I have an idea to preserve your modesty.” He strode across the room and shook out the towel from my shower that I had left in the wicker basket outside the water closet. He tucked it into the collar of my chemise like a bib. There was such tenderness in his gaze it made me think twice about what I was about to try.

  “Now, you will allow me to return what is rightfully yours?” he asked.

  I nodded. He scooped up a handful of the paste I’d made and spread it over his hands. When he pressed his palms just above the low neckline, my skin warmed. The heady scent intoxicated me. The tingle above my bosom was a combination of hot and cold. A shudder coursed through my body, making me lightheaded.

  “You have to think about the memory you wish to give me,” I said.

  He stared into my eyes with such intensity it was hard to look away. He started to say something. His words were lost as the darkness closed in on me… .

 
I sank into the familiar comfort of my own memories. My heart felt as though it were breaking. Winter’s wind howled outside. The thick perfume of wood smoke and the musk of tanuki fur filled my nostrils. Even with the small fire in the cave and the fur blanket I’d wrapped around myself to stave off the cold, winter’s chill sank into my bones. The golden glow of the fire flickered across the low ceiling and painted Jacques’ features with warmth. Two beautiful eyes framed by thick lashes stared down at me.

  He stroked the hair out of my face. “Don’t cry, mon âmour. You and I will be together again.”

  “You don’t know that. You might never return.” No one ever returned to me. Not my father nor sister. Certainly this man would be no different.

  He infused me with warm as he held me to his chest. I listened to the steady rhythm of his heart. How could he be so calm? The pain in my chest was so great I thought I would die. I had never loved a man before. Not any man who love me back anyway. How could he leave me so soon after I thought I’d found happiness?

  He covered my face with tender kisses. “I will return because I love you. I will kill Lord Klark, so that you shall be safe from him, and then I will bring you to your sister. We will marry and put all this behind us, no?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand.” Tears spilled down my cheeks. The idea of his absence left a void where my heart should have beat with joy. He didn’t understand I couldn’t leave Aynu-Mosir. I had obligations. I had my niece to care for. I had Sumiko and Taishi. My sister wouldn’t want me to join her out there somewhere in space. This was her home, and I couldn’t leave it until she was here and safe again.

  “If you will not wait for me, marry me now, oui?” he said. “I want you and no other. I cannot stand the idea you might marry some Jomon savage and forget me.”

  “They aren’t savages. They’re my friends.”

  “Oui, I beg your pardon. That was unkind of me. I simply cannot stand the idea of you being with anyone else. Please, let me give you one more night of happy memories before I go.” He kissed me with such passion I couldn’t deny his feelings for me. I knew he loved me and would miss me as much as I would miss him.