Winter wakes before James does. She spends only a moment wondering where she is, recalling that she hadn't gone back to the brothel last night, and a moment longer to realise that the man she's lying against is James. She doesn't have to look at his face to figure it out. Simple balance of probability and his scent is more than enough: tobacco and leather, and something else exotic that she can't quite place. Even through his clothes, his chest is warm, and the arm across her shoulders cosier than any blanket. Winter doesn't want to move.
His breathing is slow, and deep, and it's no wonder to her that she slept so soundly. Beneath her ear, she can hear his heart. She lies awake for many long minutes, listening, and marvels at the sound. It's deep and clear, reverberating through his chest like a drum, and she never knew the human heart could beat so formidably.
There's no change in the steady rhythm when he wakes, and she feels the rumble of his voice in his chest, startling her. "I know you're awake."
That might be a hint for her to move, but Winter doesn't. It's too peaceful like this—too safe. The feeling is unfamiliar and she isn't done with it just yet. "I can hear your heart, Mister Delaney," she says. James doesn't react. "I've never heard a man's heart before."
There's silence for a beat before he speaks again. "Take care if you choose to listen. It has a special power, the heart. You can claim that power for yourself, if you're brave enough."
"How?"
"You eat it."
It doesn't shock her. She doesn't know if he meant it to. "That what you learned in Africa?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just mad."
That's when she looks up, frowning at his face as she wonders if he's mocking her. "I don't think you're mad, Mister Delaney."
"That's because you have more youth than sense." Without warning, he sits up, breaking the spell as she's forced to follow without the support of his chest. The attic suddenly feels colder. Alien to her, even though all reason says it shouldn't be. "Don't grow too enamoured with my heart, Winter. It isn't a good one."
I think it is, she wants to say, but with him fully awake now, she keeps it to herself. "What special power does it have?"
"It beats even though I am dead."
Winter's face scrunches in confusion. Perhaps that was his intention.
"I have work to do," James says, swiftly changing the subject as he stands, and the floorboards beneath them give a familiar creak. "And you should get back to your mother."
"What do I tell her? That I spent the night with James Delaney?"
He looks at her, his gaze piercing, and she suddenly feels foolish. "If you want to frighten her."
Winter looks down. Better to lie, she thinks and gets to her feet. She casts her gaze about for her hat and it's as if he reads her mind. "On the desk downstairs."
He follows her when she goes to collect it, then she tips it to him as she puts it on, compressing her raven curls beneath the felt. "Look out for the man with the silver tooth, Mister Delaney. He's still out there looking to stop your heart."
James places a hand on his chest. "He won't."
She's surprised by how unconcerned he seems, though he meets her eyes sincerely and seems to appreciate the warning. James lets his hand linger for a moment before lowering it and reaching for the pile of coins. He takes a shilling from the top and tosses it to her. "For your trouble. Run along, Winter, before your mother misses you."
With a smile and a nod of thanks, Winter leaves him be.