Steamed (12 page)

He followed me as I went to the door. I gave him a stern look that he met with an insouciant grin. “You’re not going to just let me wander around alone, are you? Not a notorious airship pirate like me? I could do any number of dangerous things if I wasn’t under your eye.”

“You are not in the least bit subtle,” I said, my hand on the doorknob.

“I always thought subtle was boring,” he said, moving closer. “I may get slapped for this, but what the hell. You only live once, right?”

Before I could ask him what he was talking about, he put his hands on my hips and pulled me into a loose embrace.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, then damned myself for such an inane question. It was patently obvious what he was doing.

“I’m going to kiss you, Octavia Emmaline Pye.”

“You may refer to me as Captain Pye, and I decline your offer,” I said, a bit breathless, to be true. I wasn’t normally aware of my corset, it being as much a part of me as my shoes were, but just being so close to Jack seemed to not only strip the air from my lungs but leave me with the sensation that my corset was laced several times too tight.

“Your mind says no, but your body says yes,” he said, gently, persistently tugging me closer to him. I swayed into him, my fingers curling into fists as I fought the damnable attraction.

“My body is confused. Pay it no mind,” I said, my gaze focused on his mouth, a few inches from mine. Somehow, my hands had moved from where they were trying to shove him away, to sliding around his ribs, outrageously pulling him closer to me.

“Your mouth says yes, too,” he said, his lips brushing mine as he spoke.

I stared deep into those mismatched eyes, searching for a sign he was trying to deceive me, but there was nothing there but honest desire.

“My mouth, as you have witnessed twice, frequently does things without my explicit permission.” My breath caught in my throat as my lips brushed his again, the sensation sending a kernel of heat to glow in my belly, spreading outward in a rush of warmth. “Mr. Fletcher, I am captain of this ship. I cannot indulge in untoward behav—”

His mouth closing over mine cut off the rest of my declaration. I stood passive for a second, just long enough for my desire to completely override my common sense. My fingers slid up his back as he grasped my hips, pulling me tighter against him, his lips caressing mine in a kiss that I felt down to my toenails.

It’s been too long since I’ve had a lover,
I thought to myself, but I knew that wasn’t the cause of my reaction to this strange man. There was something about him, some sense that he was lost as I had once been lost, that called to me, but even that wasn’t all of it. It was the way his eyes regarded me, with humor and intelligence and frank approval, that warmed me in a way I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. Not since my days with Alan had any man approved of me such as I was, but our lives had just been too disparate for a relationship to be anything but fleeting.

Jack would not abandon me, no matter how great the cause.
That thought flitted through my mind, startling me out of the kiss that was threatening to consume me.

“Damn,” he said, his eyes crossing slightly as he tried to peer down at me. I pulled back, touching my fingers briefly to lips that felt swollen and hot. “That was one hell of a kiss, lady.”

“Yes,” I said, regaining my composure. “It was, but that does not change the situation, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Doesn’t it?” he asked with another one of his engaging grins. “I think it makes everything a lot more interesting.”

I looked at him for a minute, weighing my need to get away from the temptation he posed against the growing desire to be in his presence. I knew I should lock him into the cabin set aside for him, but that thought didn’t sit well with me. “Very well, you may accompany me, but what happened here will not be repeated. I am a woman, Mr. Fletcher, a normal woman who is not immune to desire, but I will not allow that to dictate my behavior or actions.”

“Dignity at all costs?” he asked, one sandy eyebrow rising.

“Not entirely, no,” I answered as I turned on my heel and left the mess.

 

J
ack followed behind me as I made my way down the gangway to the spiral stairs that led upward to the engineering deck. Air currents swirled gently past us, cold air from outside warmed only slightly by the tremendous heat generated by the boilers.

“This is amazing. I can’t believe I’m in a real airship,” he said, his voice filled with awe as our footsteps sounded sharply on the metal staircase. “How big is it? It seems to be several stories tall.”

“The
Tesla
is seven hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred feet high, and about eighty feet wide. The gondola, which we will leave to access the engineering deck located aft, is ninety-eight feet long. The bulk of that is made up of the cargo holds, two fore and two aft of the crew’s living quarters. There are seven envelopes that keep the airship aloft, run by three boilers, two aft, and one forward. Be careful here—the gangways are only wide enough for one person to pass.”

We climbed a second, smaller spiral staircase to the engineering platform that sat at the rear of the airship. I pointed out girders that ran parallel to us, but high overhead. “Those provide access to the envelopes, should they become damaged and need repair.”

“Amazing,” he said, his head tipped all the way back to take in the white silk envelopes that rippled above us. I entered the first room, where I had seen Mr. Mowen just a few hours before, but it was empty. “All this with steam power. Ah, the boilers, I assume?”

“Yes.” I eyed the gauges as I passed by the machinery, the loud hiss and thumping of the boilers as they provided energy to the ship a familiar sound. “Mr. Mowen must be in the back. This way. Watch your step.”

“You said there was a crew of eight? Wouldn’t a ship this big need a lot more people to run it?”

“The
Tesla
is a simple cargo transport, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Jack.”

“We are not a warship that needs a significant crew to handle the weapons. Barring any disaster, my crew is able to take care of any challenge we should face on our run between Southampton and Rome.”

“And pirates?” he asked.

I cast a glance over my shoulder at him.

“You were the one who got so bent out of shape over the mention of them,” he said in response to my piercing look.

“The
Tesla
is small and fast, and can outrun all but the fastest of pirate airships, and none of those would be foolish enough to tackle us,” I answered, moving around the second boiler to access the small room behind it. “I assure you that we are well able to avoid bringing trouble down onto ourselves. Ah, there you are, Mr. Mowen. This is Mr. Fletcher. You have no doubt heard about his presence, and that of his sister, on board the ship.”

“Hi,” Jack said, holding out his hand.

Mr. Mowen rose slowly from where he had been sitting at a small desk covered in technical drawings. “Welcome,” he said, throwing a curious glance my way.

“I’m an engineer, as well,” Jack said, looking around the tiny room. “Although steam engines are a bit out of my depths. I work on . . . er . . . if I was to say ‘computer’ to you both, what would you think?”

The expression on Mr. Mowen’s face was interesting to behold. “Eh . . . Captain?” he said, politely gesturing for me to go first.

“It’s not a word I have heard before,” I said, frowning just a little. “But I would assume that a computor refers to someone who computes things. A mathematician?”

“A man who operates a steam abacus?” Mr. Mowen offered. “Although I’ve heard them called calculators, not computers. There was one back in the academy when I was a young lad. Great huge machine it was, and the calculator could add up the longest row of numbers just as fast as you can imagine.”

“They are indeed miraculous machines,” I agreed, turning my attention back to Jack. “Is that part of your profession, Mr. Fletcher? You manipulate a steam abacus?”

“Not quite,” he said, his lips twitching. “Although I work on something similar. Just . . . different.”

“Similar but different,” Mr. Mowen repeated, pursing his lips.

“OK, a lot different. You see, I came here from another—”

“Perhaps that tale would best be left for another time,” I interrupted, sending him a meaningful look. “Mr. Mowen, as you know, the emperor takes a dim view of undocumented passengers on international ships, a sentiment the Corps echoes. We have ascertained that Mr. Fletcher and his sister were placed on the ship while they were unconscious. They are, in effect, here against their wills, and I have Mr. Fletcher’s word that they mean no harm either to the ship, the cargo, the crew, or indeed any member of the empire.”

It wasn’t strictly true that Jack had given me his word on that, which is why I waited for him to confirm my statement.

“Absolutely.” He smiled, his laugh lines crinkling in that wholly delightful manner they had. “Actually, I’m a Quaker, so I don’t hold with using violence to settle anything.”

“You are?” I asked, startled by his statement. “But Quakers are profoundly religious people, and you . . .”

“Swear like a sailor? Enjoy women?” His eyes practically twinkled with amusement. I ground my teeth for a few seconds. “Am highly irreverent?”

“That and much more,” I said finally, well aware we had an audience. “It seems greatly at odds with such a severe religion.”

“Oh, we’re not severe at all. We’re actually quite reasonable. Quakers believe in the goodness in all people, and don’t fuss with too many ceremonies or dogma. They simply try to live good lives and treat others well. I won’t say that my father hasn’t lectured me about profanity a few times, but I believe it’s a person’s intent that matters, not the words they use.”

“Yes,” I said, exchanging a glance with Mr. Mowen. “We are familiar with that particular view.”

Jack laughed. “Your salty Mr. Piper? I’m going to have to have a long talk with him. I bet I could pick up a few choice phrases from him.”

“A frightening thought if ever I heard one.” I turned back to the engineer. “Mr. Mowen, what I am going to ask you is extremely unusual, and would be frowned on by the Corps. I do not want you thinking I condone any action that would be against Corps policy, but this circumstance is of a special nature, and I am willing, this once, to go against what might be viewed as the better interests of the Corps.”

“You want somewhere to hide Mr. Fletcher and his sister,” Mr. Mowen said calmly.

“Yes.” I searched his face. “You don’t seem at all taken aback by that request.”

One side of his mouth quirked up. “Your reputation is sterling, Captain. If you have a reason for breaking the Corps rules by trying to smuggle a couple of unauthorized persons across international borders, then I am willing to accept that you have due cause to do so.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mowen,” I said, greatly relieved that I wouldn’t have to try to persuade him against his will.

“I very much appreciate such support. There is the question of the crew, however—”

“They won’t give you any trouble, should you explain the situation to them,” he said. “They’re a good crew, and will do as you ask.”

“I will certainly take the first opportunity to make everything clear to them,” I said, feeling a little tension go out of my shoulders.

And so I did. That night when everyone had gathered in the mess for dinner, I stood at the head of the table and looked down the length of it at the people gathered. Jack and his sister were there, on my right and left, respectively. I averted my eyes from the desirous person of Jack. I’d spent the better part of the day avoiding any further time alone with him, lest the incident in the mess be repeated, asking Mr. Mowen to keep an eye on him as the pair selected a suitable hiding spot.

That hadn’t stopped Mr. Mowen from taking me aside for a few minutes while Jack was checking on his sister. “You believe his story, then?” Mowen asked as soon as Jack was out of earshot. “That he was put in the hold without his knowledge?”

“I do.”

Mr. Mowen’s gaze assessed me. “Seems to me there must be more to his story than what you’re telling.”

I allowed myself a little smile. “Of course. But the rest of the facts aren’t pertinent to the situation of our landing in Rome, nor are they particularly enlightening. Suffice it to say that both Mr. Fletcher and Miss Norris were put on the ship without their agreement or approval, and since I wish to avoid any harsh repercussions to either them or this ship and its crew, I have opted for this plan of action.”

“As you wish, Captain,” he said, nodding before going back to his task at hand.

Mr. Ho moved around the table, bringing laden plates in from the galley, placing them before everyone—everyone but Jack.