Love Is in the Airship Page 2

  ⏣ 4 ⏣

  Good Girl Effie is gone.

  God, did he hope so. Because her reputation certainly was. Fleeing your own wedding in an airship with the former boy-next-door was not the sort of thing that could be hushed up. Even by someone with the sort of funds that Effie’s stepfather had at his disposal. Plus, the man cared far more for his own reputation than for Effie’s. Charlie knew that for certain.

  Effie sliced off a dainty bite of Bacalao and sampled it, chewing the salty fish slowly and thoughtfully. Her eyes drifted to the vegetables in aioli sauce sitting on the plate. Charlie had provided a variety of local dishes for their shipboard lunch, and she was determined to taste them all. Everything about Spain was new and exciting to her. She took it all in with wide eyes and radiant smiles. So eager for new things. So sheltered.

  Much as he had been three years ago.

  Effie flipped through his sketchbook as she ate, nodding at designs she liked. She had come along to his meeting that morning. He hadn’t asked her to, but he hadn’t said not to, either.

  “I’m another designer,” was all she had said, when his client gave her a curious look.

  And she was. Charlie was certain that the astounding dress she wore was her own creation. How many times had they sat together, swapping sketches and testing out new ideas?

  “Oh, you should move ahead with this one,” she said, gesturing at the book. “It’s certainly not as elaborate as the ship that Señor Miron has commissioned, but I think it will be far more elegant.”

  “Not everyone is interested in elegant. I’ve noticed that many dirigible purchasers desire ships that will stand out in a crowd. Bright colors, highly ornamented rails, multiple types and colors of wood. That sort of thing.”

  Effie looked around the tidy and well-appointed cabin. It filled most of the hull, and he had furnished it with simple, but high-quality items. The table was sturdy, the sofa comfortable for reading or for sleeping on, and the bookshelves well-stocked.

  “This ship is nothing like that. It’s beautiful, and the workmanship is superb, but it’s not ostentatious in any way.”

  “It’s my masterpiece.” There was no denying it. He’d put his heart and soul into this ship. He’d paid for it with an eye and believed it worth the price.

  “I love it.”

  Charlie’s breath caught in his chest. Three little words and any hope of hardening his heart against this woman evaporated. She was nothing like the Euphemia he’d told himself she must have become and everything like the Effie he remembered. Kind. Spirited. Affectionate. He made a pretense of slicing off some bits of his own salted cod to avoid looking at her. A fruitless attempt to save himself, he suspected.

  “I’m a bit surprised you built yourself something so nice, though,” she continued. “I would have thought you more likely to be too busy working first on projects for others.” She released a little sigh. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t pretend to really know you anymore.”

  She did know him. All too well.

  “I didn’t make it for myself. I made it for an extremely wealthy client. He had no specifications. Told me only to make it the best small craft I could devise. I worked out every tiny detail. Oversaw every aspect of the construction. Added a proper, flushing water closet.”

  “Which all airships should have, if you ask me. So, what happened? Did the client die? Did he not like it?”

  “He loved it. And then he stole it.”

  “What?”

  “He’s a pirate, and he didn’t want to pay. I was one man. Young, inexperienced, and alone. What could I do to fight him? He took the ship and flew away, leaving me sitting in the middle of a Portuguese airfield.”

  Effie leaned across the table, her eyes alight, her luncheon forgotten. “How did you get it back?”

  “I enlisted the services of another client. A good customer, who had paid well for a fast, reliable craft. Also a pirate, and a sworn enemy of the man who took my airship. I joined her crew, and—”

  “Her crew? A lady pirate?”

  “Yes. La Capitaine is a brilliant and tenacious woman. I joined her crew and sailed with her after Redbeard—that’s what people call him. We tracked him down, attacked his fleet, and stole back this airship. I suffered two broken ribs and lost an eye, but she’s all mine now.” He trailed his fingers across the wood paneling behind him. “As I think she was always meant to be.”

  “Goodness. And is that where you got all those tattoos? From the pirates?”

  Charlie looked down at the web of gears, bolts, and other mechanical items covering his arms. “No. I got these done in Scotland. One of the men in our town is an accomplished tattoo artist.”

  “Do they cover your whole body?”

  “You’ll have to see for yourself.” Charlie almost clamped a hand over his own mouth. Dammit, dammit, dammit. “I’m sorry. That was indecent. I would never want to imply that you would have an interest in… Just because we… I’m sorry.”

  “Yes.” Effie looked down at her plate. “I suppose you are.”

  Charlie frowned. What did she mean by that? Did she think he was sorry she was here? Sorry to have ever met her? He wasn’t, but he suspected she might be sorry to have met him. He’d almost ruined her life once before, and this debacle had the potential to finish the job.

  “I should be getting back on deck, now. It’s time we were going.” He stumbled from his seat and hurried for the door.

  “Charlie?”

  He paused. “Yes?”

  “Where are we going next? Somewhere exciting?”

  “Only if you think Scotland is exciting. I need to be getting home to get this new project under construction and to deal with various other projects in different stages of completion. I’m happy to drop you off anywhere along the way, or arrange transport to wherever you wish to go.” He’d do his best to see her safe and free.

  “Ah.” Her eyes dropped to her plate again.

  Charlie scrambled up top, and tried to put all his energy into flying the ship. Other aircraft flew here and there above the bustling city, and the maneuvering commanded his full attention. Almost.

  At least until Effie came up on deck and asked in her ever-curious voice, “Could you show me how to fly the ship?”

  Charlie muttered half-a-dozen curses in as many languages. He’d learned that from the pirates.

  He would give her anything she asked. He was every bit as much in love with her as he’d been three years ago. Maybe more so, now that she was fully embracing her independent streak. He cursed again and then gestured at the controls. “Be my guest.”

  The air was calm and she took to the simple controls well, and soon Charlie was scanning the skies instead of watching her every move. It was easier that way.

  A glimpse of red caught his eye. He reached up and spun a dial on his monocle, zooming in on the distant spot. A dirigible. Small, though larger than this one. The sort that would have a crew of five or six and room for half-a-dozen passengers besides. The sort that so many aristocrats and wealthy entrepreneurs flaunted. It was headed straight for him and moving quickly. This time when he swore, it was in English, and aloud.

  Effie spun to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think your family has found us.” He pointed in the direction of the growing red dot.

  Effie stepped away from the controls to peer over the rail, her lips pinched into a tight frown.

  “But my stepfather’s dirigible is green.”

  ⏣ 5 ⏣

  No amount of maneuvering could outrun the pirate ship bearing down on them. Effie didn’t have to ask if she was correct in her assessment of the situation. Charlie didn’t say a thing, and that told her enough. She remembered only twice when he’d gone so completely silent: the day she’d nearly died and woken to find him sitting at her bedside, pale as a ghost, and the night three years prior when he’d disappeared from her life.

  He flew the ship to the best of his ability, but even as light and zip
py as she was, the Kestrel was no match for a smuggling ship. Effie eyed the approaching craft, its red, oblong balloon painted with ostentatious gold swirls, like any pleasure boat. Plus an aerodynamic shape and powerful engines meant for outrunning air frigates.

  She shivered. A confrontation was unavoidable. Would the pirates force them to land and evacuate the ship? Take them hostage? Kill them? Charlie had already lost a chunk of his face. She wouldn’t let anyone do him further damage, whether that meant surrender or fighting. She needed a weapon.

  The deck was empty except for the crate of bedding, coils of rope for tying down, and a few smaller boxes of provisions. She hurried down the steep stairs to the cabin below, grabbing everything that looked useful.

  “Effie, what are you doing?” Charlie asked, when she returned with an armload of dishes and bottles. “I thought you were hiding down below to stay safe.”

  “And abandon you? Ha!” She spread her supplies across the deck. “The knives are too small and dull, but perhaps if we smash the plates or something glass the edges will be sharp enough to use as weapons.”

  “Against guns?”

  “They have guns?” Of course they had guns. They were pirates. “Do you have a gun anywhere?”

  “No. I’m a terrible shot.”

  “Damn.” Effie’s hand leapt to cover her mouth. She’d never uttered a curse word out loud before. She’d been very specifically told that she was never to use foul language. Even certain euphemisms had been forbidden. “Damn,” she repeated, enjoying the cathartic freedom of no longer caring. And then, because she could, “Fuck!”

  “For God’s sake, Effie, this is not the time to practice your swears. Go below. Maybe they won’t see you.”

  “They’ve already seen me. I can see them from here.” She made a quick count. Four thugs and one nicer-dressed man with a long, white beard. “That man with the beard, is he the leader? Was his beard red, once?”

  “No. They call him Redbeard because he kills so many people that his beard gets stained with blood.”

  Effie gazed straight into Charlie’s eyes, brown and green, natural and mechanical, both hard and unblinking. “You’re not joking.”

  “No. Go downstairs.”

  “Never.” She picked up the biggest bottle she’d found below and smashed it against the deck, keeping the jagged, snapped-off neck as a weapon.

  “That was my best brandy.”

  The prosaic complaint had an oddly calming effect on her. “Shouldn’t you be drinking rum, like a proper pirate?”

  “I’m not a pirate.”

  “No, but you look like one, and you had a lady pirate lover, and—”

  “What? I did not!”

  “No? But the way you talked about her…”

  “She’s a friend. There’s been no one.”

  “No one? But…” The ship lurched as the pirate ship drew alongside, the hulls bumping. The four thugs hopped up onto the rail and leapt for the Kestrel’s deck. “Not the time, sorry!” She raised her improvised weapon. “I’ll keep them away from you.”

  Charlie abandoned the controls and ran for one of the small boxes, throwing it open and pulling out a wrench. “To hell with that, Effie! I’m keeping them off you.”

  The thugs charged. Effie screamed as one of the large men barreled straight for her. She swung the broken bottle neck blindly, scratching the attacker, but doing no real damage. The three other thugs all ran at Charlie.

  “No!” Effie ducked away from the pirate’s grasp, abandoning her shard of glass, and whipping Rusty from around her waist. She flicked a tiny switch as she slung the snake around, and he bit the pirate’s arm and clamped down, hard.

  The pirate yelped, and Rusty’s eyes flashed green.

  Effie danced from the pirate’s grasping hands again, yanking Rusty back into her arms. “Your blood sugar is getting low. You should eat something.”

  The pirate growled something in a language she didn’t understand, though she suspected it was some type of insult. He pulled a gun, but before he could raise it, Effie attacked with Rusty once more, swinging him with all her might. The dragon’s hard, metal head hit the pirate’s skull with a thunderous smack, and the big man staggered. Effie hit him again, and he collapsed.

  She whirled around, ready to help Charlie fend off the other attackers. Three pirates stood spread across the deck, one with a gun in hand. She saw no sign of Charlie.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She screamed his name. If they’d thrown him overboard, she would kill every last one of them.

  The pirates spun to face her. A sandbag came crashing down on one of them, dropping him like a stone. Effie looked up. Charlie hung upside down from a cable, the wrench in one hand, and various ropes wrapped around his waist and arms. He unhooked his legs, swung right over Effie’s head, and dropped to the deck behind her.

  Of course. He knew every bolt and cable and rope on this ship. He probably had defensive measures she would never have dreamed of.

  Charlie yanked her backward as two more ballast bags dropped from above, but only one struck a pirate, and then only enough to make him angry. He waved his gun, apparently uncertain whether he wanted to shoot her or Charlie first.

  Effie’s eyes darted to the pirate she had felled with Rusty. The unconscious man still clutched his pistol in his right hand. Could she get to it in time?

  Apparently not. The other man leapt at her, and she had only enough time to jump backward and avoid being crushed by two hundred pounds of sweaty pirate. She swung Rusty again, but this pirate was smarter and quicker than his companion. He dodged, caught Rusty in one of his beefy hands, and hurled the snake-dragon over the rail.

  “No!”

  Her shout turned into a scream of horror as Charlie dove after her pet, hurtling himself straight for the edge. His thighs hit the rail, his upper body pitching forward over top, and for an instant time stood still.

  Effie’s legs were pumping, but it felt like she wasn’t gaining any ground. Charlie fell in slow motion, slipping further and further, until he caught himself with one hand.

  “I have it! I have the snake!”

  The world began to move again, and Effie grabbed hold of Charlie’s shirt, pulling with all her might to help him climb to safety. A gun fired and she shrieked and nearly lost her grip.

  “Don’t shoot the girl, you arse,” one of the pirates shouted. “With kettledrums like she’s got, she’ll fetch a fine price.”

  Charlie tossed Rusty up onto the deck, and the dragon slithered safely behind a box. With both hands and Effie’s help, he hauled himself over the rail, falling to the deck in a heap. Effie positioned herself between Charlie and the pirates. If they wanted her alive, she could use her body to shield him.

  She ought to have known better. She hadn’t even opened her mouth to tell him to stay down when he darted out and raced for the helm, diving behind the control panel just as another gunshot rang out. The pirate with the gun started after him.

  Effie shuffled sideways, moving toward the unconscious pirate and his gun, but keeping her eyes on the big pirate who stalked her. He smirked and made a half-hearted attempt to grab her, chuckling when she flinched.

  “Don’t you want to come with us, sweetling?” he mocked her. “I promise I’ll take it nice and slow.”

  A bellow of surprise from behind her turned into a shriek, followed by a muffled thud. Effie didn’t turn. The pirate had made that noise, not Charlie. She could discover what had happened after she reached the gun and dispatched this last pirate.

  “No, no, missy.” He sprang for the gun. The ship lurched, causing them both to stumble. The pirate, unfortunately, stumbled right toward the gun. Effie backed away. “Now, just ’cause I don’t want to shoot ya, don’t mean I won’t.”

  Effie continued backward, trying to draw the pirate away from Charlie. If he could fly the ship, maybe they could escape. Somehow.

  The ship lurched again, and this time the movement was accompanied by a scream of abso
lute terror. Effie’s head snapped around just in time to see a pirate’s flailing hand slip away over the side of the ship. Over on the pirate ship, half a dozen more pirates had gathered, waiting along the rail for the Kestrel to drift near enough that they could swarm the deck. One man fired a gun in the direction of the helm.

  “Take out the pilot, take over the ship,” the pirate snickered. “They’ll get him, and I’ll get you.”

  Several more shots rang out.

  “Charlie!” Effie shouted. He misinterpreted her fear for him as fear for herself and abandoned the helm, rushing toward her, wrench in hand, heedless of the possibility of getting shot. Her heart leapt into her throat.

  The big pirate advanced toward her. She had precious little room left to back away. She took another step and staggered when she hit a solid wall. Make that no room. Time for plan B.

  “You won’t shoot me,” she challenged.

  The pirate laughed. “No?”

  “No. Because you don’t want to damage these.” She gave her neckline a firm yank, and her breasts sprang free, the cool air immediately tightening her nipples to firm points. The pirate froze in mid step, his jaw hanging open as if it had come unhinged. Honestly, men were so silly.

  Charlie charged across the deck, his boots pounding on the wood, but the pirate recovered too late from his stunned ogling. The wrench came down on his head in mid turn. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled.

  Effie dove at Charlie, knocking him to the deck, out of line of any gunfire. “That was so reckless,” she chided.

  “I should hit him again,” Charlie said, not seeming to hear.

  “Why?”

  “He doesn’t deserve to remember so perfect a bosom as yours.” His eyes looked there and lingered.

  She poked him in the center of his chest, as she had done so often those many years ago, then tucked herself back into her dress. “Let’s crawl to the helm. We can avoid their guns and maybe fly away.”