"Then put me down. I'll have my say, then make my own way."

"You're just dyin' to bust open those st.i.tches."

"I'll be careful."

"I doubt it." Irritated, he whisked her forward, ignoring StarMan's questioning gaze as they moved past the dimly lit c.o.c.kpit.

"I don't know why you're so cross," Amelia huffed. "I'm the one who's been wronged."

"How so?"

"I specifically stated I wanted to be awake and aware, and you had me knocked out."

"I call the shots on this boat."

"Is that your idea of an apology?"

"No, darlin', it ain't."

"That's another thing. I insist you refrain from such intimacies. Endearments should be reserved for family and sweethearts, neither of which we are."

"Next?"

She narrowed her eyes. "You removed my trousers."

"Nothin' personal," he lied while settling her on a barrel that allowed her to peer over the gunwale. "Doc needed to bandage that leg proper-like. Don't worry. Birdman left the room prior to the...unveiling."

Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. "I can only hope you were gentleman enough to avert your eyes."

"Sorry to disappoint," he said, donning his own goggles against the strong winds. "I've never been one to turn away from a curiosity."

She cast him a furtive glance. "You considered my...my bare parts curious?"

His lip twitched at a hint of insecurity. A new and welcome twist. "Your legs are lovely, Miss Darcy. Your bloomers, what there was of them, are curious. Barely enough fabric to cover your lovely-"

"That's quite enough," she said, cheeks flushed. "And never mind my..."

"Unmentionables?"

"Precisely."

Her falcon swooped in and settled close by, as if sensing she needed saving-if only from an improper conversation. Tuck watched, mesmerized, as she smoothed delicate fingers over the bird's feathered head. He'd handled a canary and other such domesticated fowl, but never a falcon. He wanted to cover Amelia's hand with his own, to join her in stroking the majestic, albeit altered beauty, but he refrained. Her relationship with this falcon was personal. Tuck hesitated to intrude. Not to mention that holding Amelia's hand would be as inappropriate as discussing her bloomers. Still, he couldn't tear his gaze from the way she lovingly stroked that bird. He imagined those fingers stroking him and...

Christ.

"I know Leo is an oddity," Amelia said, breaking in on his randy thoughts, "but he is a valiant and good creature. Promise me Mr. O'Donnell won't hurt him."

Her quiet plea spoke to the deepest part of him. "Axel's more bl.u.s.ter than bite. Except in dire circ.u.mstances," he added. "Leo's safe." He'd see to it. Tuck had a long and deep appreciation of birds. As a boy he'd been obsessed with the way they glided through the air. He couldn't think of anything more thrilling than soaring through the open sky. Even now. However, Leo was a source of fascination for more than his ability to fly. Tuck wondered about his artificial parts. Who had made and applied them? How did they work? How did metal function with muscle? When the time was right, he'd ask. For the moment Tuck pulled back, reminding himself that Amelia, though feisty, was recovering from what would have been in the hands of a lesser pilot a fatal wreck. Instead of engaging her in deep conversation, he'd do better to snuff this meeting and escort her to bed. The only thing stopping him was her reverent appreciation of the view. Gazing over the bow, rosy lips curved in a smile, wind ruffling the tendrils that had escaped her messy coiled braids and tattered magician's hat...Amelia Darcy was a glorious sight.

"I've never flown at night. There is an added degree of danger," she said in a thoughtful voice. "As if navigating whilst wearing a blindfold."

"No different from sailing a ship on darkened seas." He moved in, his arm brushing hers as he pointed up. "We navigate by the stars and astronomical compendiums, an instrument that-"

"I know what it does, Mr. Gentry. I own one myself."

"Of course, you do."

"Probably not as fancy as yours."

"I'd wager not. Doesn't mean it's less dependable."

"Are you humoring me, sir?"

"Not at all, miss." He spoke close to her ear, breathing in her distinct scent. "In addition to conventional navigational means," he plowed on, "tonight we're blessed with the light of a nearly full moon. Truth told, we prefer travelin' when the sun's asleep. Less activity. Less chance of...unwanted encounters."

"You mean air constables." She quirked a wry grin. "Are you carrying illegal cargo, Mr. Gentry?"

"Never mind my cargo, Miss Darcy."

"According to the Informer, part of the reason you're able to circ.u.mvent 'unwanted encounters' is because of your customized blasterbeefs. I'm still uncertain as to how they operate."

"As am I."

She cast him a perplexed look. "But you designed-"

"With the help of an expert in the field. I'm a pilot, not an engineer."

"Is it true you outmaneuvered Frank and Jesse James in an aerial showdown?"

"Read a lot of dreadfuls, do you?"

"I also enjoy daily newspapers, scientific periodicals, and materials related to past and future aeronautics." She stiffened in offense and gave him her back. "I suppose you prefer your women docile and ladylike. The delicate sort who read about fashion and etiquette."

"I prefer my women spirited and curious." She didn't flinch, but he knew he'd shocked her. "And yes, it's true about the James brothers."

"Astonishing," she whispered.

He didn't know whether she referred to his taste in women or his air skirmish with the James boys. Didn't matter. What charmed him was her general sense of awe. Her fascination with aviation stimulated his s.e.xual appet.i.te like French champagne. He'd never known a woman pilot. Never encountered a woman so hungry for technological knowledge. Yes, she was beautiful, but it was Amelia's sharp and inquisitive mind that made Tuck randy as h.e.l.l.

Breathing deeply, he fought an almighty urge to free those corn silk curls, allowing them to flutter around her mesmerizing face. She looked fetching enough in the moonlight as it was. Also, he didn't figure she'd appreciate the intimate gesture. For all her bl.u.s.ter and salty language, Miss Darcy struck him as an innocent. Or maybe she was frigid. He shouldn't care. He didn't care, except the better he knew their guest, the better he could antic.i.p.ate how best to handle her presence on the Maverick.

"Just in case you were worried, Eli dropped your friend safely at a reputable inn."

"I wasn't worried. Mr. Boone seems most respectable."

"Many would argue that point."

"I'm well aware of your crew's reputation and your frequent brushes with danger."

"Yet you're not afraid to fly with us."

"I can take care of myself."

"With that peashooter you pulled on Axel earlier today?"

She squared her shoulders, but kept her gaze averted. "With whatever means available."

Tuck crossed his arms, studied her slight form, and pondered all that sa.s.s. "Seein' as you're acquainted with my colorful history, I a.s.sume you know I'm a wanted man." A fact that ate at his gut every day.

"Wanted in America. I know."

"For theft and murder."

"I know."

"You're not bothered by that?" He sure as h.e.l.l was.

"I would be if you were guilty."

"According to the evidence, I am. What makes you think I'm innocent?"

"You said so four months back, in that interview with the Clockwork Canary."

Tuck thought back on the awkward meeting and the way that confounding reporter had pried into his innermost thoughts. Yes, he'd wanted to spread the news of his innocence, but he hadn't aimed on sharing the more sordid details of the case. Somehow, some way the Clockwork Canary had gotten Tuck to open up about his relationship with Ida t.i.tan, the woman he'd been accused of killing. How they'd been past lovers and how he'd broken off with her when she'd become obsessive and delusional. He hadn't meant to speak ill of Ida, even though she'd plotted against her own father to secure a future for her and Tuck-a future that had been rooted solely in Ida's fanciful mind. Even though she'd threatened Tuck with his own gun when he'd refused to play her twisted game. No matter her transgressions, Ida hadn't been of sound mind.

Gut knotted with regret, Tuck shook off the sour memories of his last and fatal meeting with his twisted former lover and instead focused on the feisty ingenue in front of him. Amelia's unquestioning belief in his innocence was humbling...and worrisome. The case against Tuck had been built by Ida's father-a vengeful man and a powerful judge. The evidence (though mostly concocted) had been d.a.m.ning and well publicized in respected publications throughout the world. Yet Amelia took Tuck's word as reported by one sensationalized newspaper? Never mind that it was true. "Believe everything you read?"

"Of course not. Certainly not everything written by that disreputable reporter, but in your case..." She finally looked his way again, and even with those goggles on he could see the bald admiration in those big blue eyes. "You are incapable of such an atrocity, Mr. Gentry."

Though he was indeed innocent of the aforementioned crime, he'd sinned plenty in his efforts to uphold the law. Her admiration was misplaced and it galled. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Are you speaking of the criminals you killed in the line of duty? Unfortunate. But sometimes good men have to do bad things to obliterate evil."

Just when he'd thought Amelia was a naive innocent. Swear to G.o.d, he'd never met a woman of such contradictions. Tuck shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm beginning to think Axel's right about you. No sane woman would willingly board a ship manned by reputed outlaws. I don't care if you have some romanticized notion about us. We're still healthy men with carnal needs."

"No need to be crude. Or cruel," she said, no doubt in reference to her mental stability. "I told you: I am desperate to get to Italy."

"I read the newspapers too, Miss Darcy, and I have to wonder why your brothers aren't accompanying you on this journey."

She turned her pert nose to the stars. "Otherwise engaged. Matters of grave importance."

"Graver than a dying grandpap?"

"They'll join me as soon as they are able. Trust me when I say family is uppermost in their minds."

"They had no reservations about you traveling all that way alone?"

"I wasn't alone." She cut off his next words with a gasp. "Look at all that water." She glanced over her shoulder and caught his eye, causing his G.o.dd.a.m.ned heart to pound. "Is that the English Channel?" she asked in wide-eyed wonder.

And just like that their tense conversation was over. "It is."

The moon sat high, lighting their way and casting a brilliant glow over the coast of Suss.e.x and the vast waters rippling between England and France. Over the past year he'd flown this path several times, enough times that the impressive landscape had lost its shine. Amelia looked as if she'd just gotten her first glimpse of diamonds. "You've never seen the channel?"

"With the exception of one excursion to London to visit my brother Jules, I have never been outside of Kent."

A sheltered country girl with a thirst for adventure.

His gut blared louder than Birdman's megahorn.

Left to her own devices, Amelia Darcy was an all-fired beacon for trouble.

Even now he could sense all eyes on deck a.s.sessing the woman gracing their bow like a living figurehead.

"What are you doing?" she asked when he whisked her off the barrel.

"Doc'll tan my hide if you catch pneumonia." Granted, her good health was of concern, but mostly this was an excuse to get her below and out of sight.

"I a.s.sure you I am quite hardy."

"No doubt." A woman who'd sustained more than a few injuries due to flying incidents. A woman who'd intended to pedal a flimsy kitecycle over the d.a.m.ned English Channel. It wasn't Amelia Darcy's const.i.tution that Tuck questioned. The burr under his saddle pertained to a suspicion that this young gal possessed more sa.s.s than sense. Between her pretty face, enticing curves, and infectious sense of wonder, she'd have his men twisted up in less than three days. At a time when he carried a hold full of the banned hallucinogenic liquor known to the French as la fee verte. He envisioned a crew of sky pirates absconding with his precious green-fairy cargo, his crew in shackles due to being distracted by a spitfire in leather.

"I insist you put me down."

"Noted." He shouldered open his cabin door, and as much as he wanted to fling this obstinate filly on the bed, he set her gently on the mattress and stepped away. Distance was key. Every time he touched her, all of his thoughts went south of his waistline.

Shifting his position to hide another d.a.m.ned hard-on, he gave her a stern look. "Let's get one thing clear, Flygirl. This is my boat. I give the orders, not you. As our guest, you'll be afforded protection, food, and board until we reach Paris. In return, you'll keep out of our way, belowdecks and out of sight as much as possible."

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Why don't you just confine me to quarters?"

"Don't tempt me."

"I need to work on Bess."

At least it would keep her occupied. "I'll set you up a workplace."

"And I prefer my own sleeping compartment."

"I prefer you here." Safest place for her. He could curb his randy desires. Chantel, in all her flexible glory, was only a day away. And she wasn't a virgin.

Red-faced, Amelia pushed herself to her feet, clinging to the bedpost for stability. "If you think-"

"Farthest thing from my mind."

She blinked. "Really? Why?"

For the love of..."Contrary to what you may have read or heard, Miss Darcy, I don't cotton to seducing innocents."

"I'm not...That is to say..." She palmed her forehead as if wrangling stray thoughts. "I didn't mean to offend. I just...It's been an unusual day."