Wild Cards and Iron Horses Read Online Free PDF

the dim electrical lights in the workshop, illuminating the brass and steel workings. Extending up each finger with slim bars and bands of metal, it embraced the useless hand and cradled it in a prosthetic grip.
    “What…?” The wrench clattered to the ground with a loud clang, bouncing out of sight. The young woman advanced on him, her blue eyes fixated on the hand. He flinched as she reached out with her slender fingers towards him, but didn’t retreat. She started stroking the delicate mechanism running around his fingers, continuing her inspection down across his wrist and up into the recesses of his shirt.
    Jon shivered, forcing himself to stay still under her scrutiny. There had been plenty of examinations in the past, plenty of doctors and scientists and engineers poking and probing at his injured hand and the prosthetic. Many of them had been women, white-haired old birds who muttered as they prodded his hand and nattered on about formulas and spring tension and whatnot. But he’d never had such gentle touching and never felt the tingling along his scarred, mutilated skin as he did right now.
    “Shirt. Off.” Her nimble fingers pulled the tie free of his stiff collar. It arced into the air, landing on the stone floor within inches of a pool of oil. She continued to pry the buttons open on his waistcoat and then set out to work on the shirt underneath. Her short and ragged nails scraped against his skin, sending another rush of sensations through his body as he fumbled for some sort of sane reaction to this insane behavior.
    “Miss Weatherly.” Jonathan leapt back, his good hand flying up to pull the fabric out of those slender prying digits that threatened to destroy what inner willpower he had left. “Please.”
    She stopped. Her hands withdrew, fingers hanging in the air. Finally Sam took a full step back, letting them fall to her sides. She waited for Jon’s next response.
    “You’ll have to forgive my daughter.” Jake moved in front of her, his good hand raised as if to protect her from Jon’s wrath. The other sleeve lay pinned to his side, the thick staples digging through the leather.
    “She’s always been easily excited by such things, ever since she was little.” He looked back at his daughter, who stood there with a dazed expression. Her full attention continued to be focused on Jon’s hand and the mysterious machine on it. “She tore apart her grandfather’s watch when she was seven. Put it back together, however.”
    “That may well be, sir, but she cannot simply undress me like one of her dolls.” Jon brushed his left hand through his hair, smoothing it down. His inner voice disputed his decision, creating images that he hadn’t dreamt about in ages. There hadn’t been room for women on his quest, no time for the frivolities that he had engaged in as a younger man. Now, for the first time in months, he felt his blood stirring. Fighting back the urge to either flee or embrace this woman, Jon settled for the rising heat in his cheeks.
    “I…apologize for my actions, sir.” Sam stepped from behind her father, her face flushed. Her eyes were now focused, illustrating her return to the situation at hand and the restrictions society held them both to. “I just… It’s so amazing.” The woman swallowed hard, gulping back her enthusiasm. “May I ask for a closer look at the entire apparatus?”
    He couldn’t hide his blushing. “If you wish.”
    She nodded, clearing her throat with a loud cough. “In order to repair such an item, I need to inspect it from top to bottom. At your convenience, sir.” Turning away from the two men, Sam walked to one of the workbenches. She picked up a damp cloth from a tray, wiping her hands. “Please call me when you’re ready to proceed.”
    Jake raised one eyebrow, gesturing at the worktable next to them. “If you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Handleston?”
    Jon continued the task that Samantha had already started, quickly pulling the rest of the