Kathleen Y'Barbo (35 page)

“Indeed, Millie, I cannot deny being intrigued by the puzzles you present,” he said. The truth, and yet not meant in the same way as the words he echoed from her. This rare combination of beauty and brains, gumption and grace, had not ceased to intrigue him since the moment she buckled herself into his flying machine and made off with his heart.

“I’m only intrigued by the fact that you are hesitating to answer. In fact, while you have done some impressive stalling, I must point out that you have not yet responded to what I believe is an impossible-to-refuse offer.”

Was that the beginnings of a smile? Before Kyle knew for certain, she mustered up her gumption and stuck out her hand as if to shake his.

“What do you say, Kyle Russell? Shall we strike up an agreement?”

He should not take advantage of the moment or of obvious lack of understanding on just how much he needed to be striking up an agreement with her. And yet he could only smile and play along.

“And the specific terms of this agreement?”

“They are negotiable. I can offer compensation, and you can offer expertise in solving a particular sort of situation.”

“Go on.”

Her gaze wandered past him and then returned to focus on his eyes. “I prefer to discuss this privately, which may prove difficult in the confines of this vessel.”

“Tell me what has changed. You mentioned you are following me because the circumstances are not the same. What happened?”

Her expression told him she was sorting through answers and looking for the one she wished to speak aloud. “My father...has made some poor decisions, chief among them choosing to marry again and...” She looked away again. “Well, that would be the worst of it, I think.”

“No, Millie.” He reached to trace the line of her jaw as he had done several times before, the image of that bonfire, of the gown being tossed out the third floor window, in his thoughts. “I do not think that is the worst of it. What else has he done?”

“I suggest we keep to the discussion at hand,” she said with only the slightest quiver to her lower lip. “What would it cost for me to hire you to help find my treasure?”

Kyle pretended to consider the question.

“You have the photographs,” she said before he could form a response. “Which is more than I have.”

His attention went to her neck, where her upswept hairstyle revealed a scratch, vivid red against pale skin. “What happened here?” His fingers traced the edge of the fabric of her emerald gown as he noticed for the first time that the chain she never removed was gone. “Did your father do this?”

Her lack of response told him all he needed to know. Kyle’s blood boiled at the thought of Silas Cope drawing blood, even a small amount.

“He has taken your necklace, then?”

“The locket and chain, yes. I have the cypher.” She closed her eyes as she considered what she might next say. When she opened them, he saw pain in their depths. “The worst of it is, he has given the locket to Sir William. I am to receive it back upon our marriage.”

Kyle’s fist curled at the news. Tucker would not have the locket long. Of that he was certain. And the next woman who received it as a gift would have no idea of its true value.

“I see,” he managed through clenched jaw.

Millie’s eyes were lit now with what could only be shared anger. “I will
never
marry that man, so if the locket held a clue, then I am left to find the treasure in another way.” She forced back her emotions and almost managed a believable smile. “And we are back to our original topic. This is where—and why—I am seeking your assistance.”

At that moment, Kyle knew he was capable of agreeing to do almost anything she asked. This knowledge, along with a growing need to protect her from all harm, terrified him.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said instead. “Within reason, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And you will not offer payment. I will not hear of it.”

“But, Kyle, your time is valuable and—”

“As is yours.” He shook his head at the determination in her voice, in her expression. “You are a stubborn woman, Millie Cope.”

“I am persistent. I think stubborn is something left to debate.”

His chuckle echoed in the narrow passageway. “You have just proved my point.”

“Then you will allow me to compensate you for your work. The Bible says a workman is worthy of his hire, so—”

“All right,” he interjected. “I give up. But here is what you can do in exchange for my work on your puzzles.” He reached to touch her forehead with his index finger. “Put your brilliant mind to work on a conundrum I’ve reached in my work on the flying machine.”

Her eyes brightened at the challenge. “What conundrum?”

“I am not happy with the ratio of fuel used to distance traveled. Any assistance in that area would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yes, of course. I can see how there would be an issue with adding the extra weight required for additional fuel, and yet without the added—”

“Why don’t we table this discussion as well until we can find more privacy?” He nodded toward the end of the hall as a trio of women headed their way.

“Yes, it is a bit crowded aboard this vessel, is it not?”

“Indeed.” The ladies pressed past, their chatter rendering them oblivious to all but their own company.

Complete lack of situational awareness. Kyle shook his head before returning his attention to Millie.

“So until then,” he said when they were once again alone, “perhaps you and I should concentrate on enjoying the trip, at least until I can orchestrate some manner in which to discuss things without being overheard. What do you say to that?”

She looked reluctant, almost as if she preferred the relative solitude of the passageway to the public dining room. And yet when he drew her arm through his and led her back in the direction they came from, she offered no protest. Instead, she fell into step beside him and then allowed him to escort her back to the table, where a pair of gawking
males was waiting.

As soon as he had Millie seated, Kyle placed his hand protectively over hers. Neither appeared to notice, not that he blamed them.

“Welcome back, Millie,” said one of them, who then quickly introduced himself to Kyle as Merle Milligan and his companion as his brother Sawyer.

“Kyle Russell,” he said as he stuck his hand out to distract the elder of the two. His effort failed miserably, so Kyle reached over to place his arm around Millie.

That did the trick. Both brothers shifted their attention quickly to him. And then, for good measure, Kyle leaned close to Millie so that his lips could touch her ear.

“You can either play along and pretend you find me the most fascinating man in the room, or you can suffer the attention of these two fools for the remainder of the voyage while I take my meals alone in my cabin.”

Millie’s giggle was girlish, but the kiss she pressed against his cheek was all woman. “You are the most fascinating man, Kyle Russell,” she said, looking deeply in his eyes.

And though her acting left a little to be desired, the kiss was satisfaction enough. The Milligan brothers regarded him with what could only be awe.

Awe served up with a generous side of jealousy.

Kyle could only beam while Millie picked up her spoon to turn it over and preen at her reflection in the polished silver. Thankfully the steward arrived with their meals before further conversation was required by any of them.

“That worked out rather nicely,” Millie said when the Milligan brothers made short work of their meals and then begged off any further socializing to exit the dining hall.

“And all it cost was a kiss. I hope that wasn’t too painful for you.”

“Not at all, though I am not sure how much longer I can endure these swinging chandeliers. I confess they are making me a bit queasy.”

Kyle glanced up to see the source of her troubles. “It’s the weather. It should be fine by morning, but tonight the river will be rough.”

“I am not looking forward to that, or trying to sleep alone with the weather so nasty.”

“Then let’s see if we can’t remedy that, shall we?” When she gave him an inquiring look, Kyle nodded toward the passageway. “By leaving the dining room. What did you think I meant?”

“Yes, of course.” She allowed him to escort her as far as the door to her first-class cabin. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you have put off answering my question regarding my offer of employment.”

Millie’s formal tone stood in direct contrast to her weary expression, giving her the look of a sleepy child. And yet he was careful to take her seriously. For the one thing he could not miss was her determination.

He pressed his palm against the wooden panel and chose his words carefully. “Before I left Memphis I sent a message to you. Apparently you did not receive it.”

“I did not. If you told my father, you wasted your time.”

“I asked for you, not your father, and was greeted by an older servant. She was a very nice woman.”

“Cook.”

“Perhaps. She was dressed in a way appropriate for kitchen staff, although I got the impression she was more than just a cook.”

“She is, although I have only just become aware of it. So, what was the message?”

“That I had changed my mind.”

A spark of interest flared in her eyes. “About?”

He grinned. “I did not say.”

“Then prepare to say now, mister,” she demanded as she folded her arms and fixed him with a stern look. “Or I will have a good reason why not.”

Kyle traced the line of her jaw with his knuckle again and then stepped back to allow his hand to fall at his side. How easy it would be to kiss her now. To wish her good night with an embrace.

His chuckle escaped quickly. “To invite you to my workshop.” A pause. “In New Orleans.”

“You never told me your workshop was there. Why not?”

“Millie,” he said softly, “I promise you and I will talk more about this tomorrow, but please get some rest tonight.”

Exhaustion forced her to agree. “Until tomorrow, then.” She slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

Kyle waited only a moment until he heard the lock turn in the door and then he walked away. “Until tomorrow, Millie Cope.”

In his cabin, one substantially less grand than Millie’s, he found a note that had been left for him. It was a telegram from Lucas. Written in code and apparently sent just before the vessel departed, his words were sparse, the message not what Kyle had hoped for.

Once again Will Tucker had eluded them.

Twenty

January 23, 1889

Aboard the
Victoria Anne

W
hile Millie’s stateroom was more than pleasant with its sapphire blue velvet bed hangings and matching slipper chairs, the silk-covered walls were threatening to close in by lunchtime. Even so, she was not quite ready to give up on the drawing she had been sketching for the last hour, an idea based on the principles that Rufus Porter had used to extend the distance his dirigible could travel without refueling.

Yet even though the concepts intrigued her, blue skies beckoned outside the window. Last night’s storm had washed away the grit from the glass and brought sunshine streaming in. Someone knocked, and Millie set the sketchbook aside to rise and answer the door.

Kyle’s grin was broad as he stepped inside. “I’ve come to escort you to lunch.” He glanced around. “Very nice room, Millie. Does your father know he is funding such an elegant escape?”

The comment stopped her cold. “Why would you ask that?”

“It was a joke, and apparently a poor attempt at one. Please accept my apology.”

“Only if you will accept mine. I am a horrible grump this morning.”

He removed his pocket watch to consult the time. “Technically you are a horrible grump this
afternoon.
As of ten minutes ago, to be exact.”

“Let’s find some lunch. My stomach is rumbling.”

“What is this?” He picked up the sketchbook and studied her drawing.

“It’s nothing. Just an idea I had based on something I read in Rufus Porter’s pamphlet on dirigibles. It might address your conundrum, though I am not yet ready to make that claim.”