Page 41 of Trapped By Clocks and Hearts

I stepped back in dismay. My stomach stirred in unease. That godforsaken woman, I gritted my teeth almost in vindication. I was this close to being rid of her completely, and I would only be so glad.

“Oh Rabb, would you be a dear and hand me that knife?”

Still distracted, I moved to pick up the utensil. When I spun around, the Duchess was in mid-jump to throw herself at me in an attempt to impale herself on the knife.

I wove away just in time. “Seriously, Duchess.” I shook my head at her with a dark glare.

The Duchess’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she skidded to a stop—quite unharmed. Throwing up her hands, she blew out an aggravated breath through her pursed lips. “Fine! I give! You won’t even give me the courtesy of ending my tedious life. What else have I got to do?” She marched right around the table to slump back in her padded throne.

Fidgeting in my stance, I craned my neck to check on Allie and Chez out the windows again. “Listen,” I started, lowering my voice. “I am trying to get this girl to willingly deposit her heart in a Heartlamp, so I would appreciate it if you don’t tell her what happens afterward. I told her I would help her go back home if she gave me her Heartfire ember.”

The Duchess broke a conspiratorial smile. “My dear Rabb, you are as ruthless as ever.” She put a finger to her lips. “Not a peep from me.”

Chapter 12 - Heartlamp

Strains of laughter at the doorway drew my attention as Allie and Chez walked through. I couldn’t help but note how relaxed Allie was around Chez. The two of them looked like jolly old friends coming back from an adventure.

My eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. “What took you so long? I said to tour the grounds, not engage in some prolonged bonding activity.”

Allie gave me a suffering look.

“Oh, we found your broken hydraulic sprinkler system,” Chez started.

The Duchess put a hand to her mouth. “I forgot to mention. I hope you didn’t hurt yourself. Those rusty taps and hoses are tangled up all over the place, sunken holes everywhere.”

Chez’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Allie fixed it.”

The Duchess blinked. “What?”

My gaze slid over to Allie.

Allie shrugged. “The gears were just all mucked up from the humidity and I tightened some of the fittings. It should be running right as rain once again, green up all that nice grass you have.”

At her offhand, self-assured response, the Duchess’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Her thin red lips curved into a pleased, somewhat devious smile. “Hmm…” Her gaze went up and down Allie’s figure as if seeing her for the first time. “You look like a drowned kitten, my dear.” She snapped her fingers. “Dry clothes for everyone.”

I jerked in my stance as, with a poof of sparkling mist, even my shirt and pants were dry and clean.

Allie’s shirt was pristine once again, her lab coat freshly pressed, not a stain in sight. She gave the Duchess a pleased smile. “Thank you, Madame Duchess.”

The Duchess gave her a magnanimous smile. “Shall we sit down to supper?”

With great enthusiasm, Allie plonked herself into a chair. Chez hopped to curl up on a little table beside the Duchess’s chair with a little saucer of green soup set out on it.

“This looks wonderful.” Allie served herself a bowl of the same green soup.

The Duchess’s smile didn’t waver. “We’ve got some lovely mock turtle soup today. Made from fresh mock turtles.”

At that notion, Allie tilted her head and couldn’t help her remark, “Fascinating.” She dipped the spoon in the soup and let it drip back into the bowl a few times, watching it closely as though studying its consistency, before she tasted a mouthful with no apprehension whatsoever.

“How is it, dear?” the Duchess prompted.

Allie pursed her lips. I supposed she figured honesty was going to be the best tack. “It tastes like waffles.” Then she paused as though not willing to give offense. “Tasty though.”

Standing by the liquor trolley, I rolled my eyes and poured myself another drink.

Chez was licking his own lips. “Too much pepper.”

Allie’s smile widened with amusement. Her gaze fell on the plate nearest to me, the one with the tomatoes sorted out. “Are you eating that?”