"Same here," Axel said, then turned his back.

Amelia fixed her devastating blue gaze on Tuck. "I need to speak with you."

Conversation was the last thing on his mind. He imagined pulling her against his body, kissing those rosebud lips, tracing his thumb along her prominent cheekbones...."Go on."

"Perhaps someplace quieter. It's hard to think with all this noise."

"I'm working on it," Axel groused.

"Say your piece," Tuck said. And move along before I sweep you off your feet and whisk you to my bed.

She blew out a breath. "It occurs to me that you are unhappy about my presence on your ship."

"There's an understatement," Axel mumbled.

"I'm not keen on being where I am not wanted."

"Wouldn't want the lady feeling uncomfortable," Axel said to Tuck as he poked and prodded the turbine. "Drop her in Dieppe."

"Where's Dieppe?" she asked Tuck.

"Coastal town in France."

She shook her head. "Though I am an inconvenience, since you are traveling in that direction anyway, I must insist you honor your commitment and take me as far as Paris. The closer to Italy, the better. Plus it will allow me more time to reconstruct Bess."

"No way in h.e.l.l are you gonna rebuild that dig before we reach Paris, darlin'."

"How much time do I have?"

"Not enough."

"That will have to do."

Her stubborn determination gave Tuck a hard-on and a G.o.dd.a.m.ned pain in the neck. "Travel would be swifter and for sure and certain safer if you purchased pa.s.sage from France to Italy on a commercial airship."

"Do I look as though I am made of money?"

"The train then."

Though she maintained fierce eye contact, she lowered her voice to a ragged whisper. "My family is...We recently learned..." She cleared her throat. "There is no money to squander on commercial travel."

"You sayin' your family's down and out?"

"Financially challenged. Temporarily."

Tuck noted the pride in her voice and his natural inclination to help. Seemed to him this gal had suffered a whole lot of heartbreak as of late. Maybe it was a culmination of personal debacles that tortured her dreams. The urge to somehow right her world was almighty, but it wasn't his place. Nor could he afford the distraction. He had his own family to worry about.

Specifically his sister, Lily.

With an ocean between them it had become next to impossible to monitor her well-being. Since the day they'd been orphaned, Tuck had considered Lily his responsibility. Even though she'd ended up living most of her life with their aunt, he'd seen to her financial needs, maintaining a long-distance relationship in order to shelter her from his dangerous profession.

After his rise to fame as the Sky Cowboy, he'd done his almighty best to keep Lily's existence out of the press. Luckily, the dime novels had focused mostly on his adventures. When things had turned sour, reporters had started digging into his personal life, and Tuck had sent Lily and their aunt to live with a distant cousin in New York City.

In the past year, their aunt had died, and now, more than ever, Tuck regretted leaving his sister behind in the States, even though it had seemed the right thing at the time. He no longer trusted the family she was living with, suspecting they were poisoning Lily against him and mishandling her finances. Tuck had to get to his sister or get her to him.

Way he saw it, he had two choices: appease or bribe Judge t.i.tan so that he dropped the twisted charges against Tuck, clearing his name and his path to home, or...secure a fortune, enabling Tuck to smuggle Lily out of America, after which he'd set them both up with aliases and a new life in Europe.

"How long before we reach Paris?" Amelia asked again, diverting talk of funds, or lack thereof.

Though, like his sister, Amelia was young and somewhat gullible, Tuck reminded himself that she had two capable and older brothers on this continent, neither of them wanted by the law. Neither of them currently indulging in a dangerous and disreputable profession. She wasn't entirely on her own, so why was Tuck compelled to ease her troubles? He glanced up at the steam-powered balloon, then frowned at the lowered masts and compromised blasterbeefs. "At this rate it'll be another hour before we reach the coast."

She turned her face to the south. "Given the strong winds, we'd make greater haste with the sails."

"That's a fact." Her profile was stunning. Her knowledge of aviation stimulating.

"So why not deflate the balloon and hoist the sails?"

"Problem with the retracting mechanism on the masts."

"Oh." Amelia regarded the engineer and the turbine with a frown. "It would seem you are plagued with several problems this morning."

Axel glared over his shoulder. "How about that?"

"Your tone suggests I am somehow at fault," Amelia shot back.

"The Maverick was in tip-top shape till you boarded."

"Are you suggesting I somehow sabotaged-"

"No, he is not," Tuck said firmly. He should've told Axel to shut the h.e.l.l up sooner, but he'd been impressed with Amelia's reaction to his surly engineer. The woman held her own. Maybe it was because she had two older brothers, but she was not easily intimidated. He liked that. He liked her. h.e.l.l. "Was there something else, Flygirl?"

"What?" Brows scrunched, she ma.s.saged her temple, then focused back on Tuck. "Oh, yes. If you would be so kind as to show me to Bess...Good Lord," she complained, "the infernal clinking."

"Clanking," Axel growled. "I'm working on it."

Amelia grabbed the wrench out of his hand and knocked it hard against the coils. The ominous sound stopped.

Tuck and Axel stared.

Amelia shrugged. "Sometimes it just takes a good whack."

Axel grabbed back his tool. "Can't be that easy."

"Sometimes it is. I have a lot of experience with malfunctioning machinery. Papa's inventions, though brilliant, were unfortunately plagued by flaws."

Axel narrowed his eyes. "p.r.o.ne to bad luck, was he?"

On that note, Tuck grasped the woman's arm and steered her away. "A word in private."

"That was my intention in the first place."

On second thought, privacy would prove disastrous. Privacy would tempt indulgence. He burned to kiss this feisty girl senseless. Instead, he finessed her toward the companionway, out of earshot but within sight of StarMan. "I asked you to stay below."

"Sorry to disappoint, but in addition to wanting to initiate repairs on Bess, I have someone to thank." She flashed her walking cane. "Could you point me to Mr. Boone?"

He should've recognized Eli's handiwork. "I'll pa.s.s on your appreciation."

"I'd rather do so in person."

"Miss Darcy-"

"Mr. Gentry-"

"Ahoy! Incoming!"

What now? Tuck wondered, just as a cannonball whizzed over the hull. "What the h.e.l.l?"

"Pirates!" Birdman called from his post in the shrouds.

"All hands, battle stations!" Tuck hauled Amelia into his arms.

"What are you-"

"Hush." He whisked her down the ladder, adrenaline pumping. Hurrying toward his cabin, he envisioned his illegal cargo hidden two decks below. Cargo that, once delivered, would advance him toward his means of returning home to America. To Lily. Unless some low-down sky pirates stole his booty. "G.o.ddammit."

"You can outrun pirates," Amelia said, her voice now high-pitched and breathy. "You've done it before. I once read in the Informer-"

"Sails down. Blasterbeefs at quarter capacity. No running from this one." He kicked open the door to his cabin and set her on her feet. "If you value your life, lock the door behind me and stay quiet as a church mouse."

Her eyes were huge, alight with fear and, d.a.m.n it all, excitement. "But maybe I can help," she said. "I can shoot-"

He shushed her with a kiss. Not smart or timely, but dammit, her offer torched his blood. He nipped, sampled, and consumed. She tasted of nectarines and sunshine. More intoxicating than whiskey. Addictive as opium. Though pa.s.sionate, the kiss was brief, leaving her breathless and him wanting more. "You can help by staying safe."

They shared a look sparking with mutual l.u.s.t. He heard an explosion, felt the ship rock. At this moment, he wasn't sure what had suffered the hit-the Maverick or his heart. Unbalanced twice in one day, Tuck pushed away with a growl. "Lock the d.a.m.ned door," he said, then swung into the hall.

Eli jogged up from behind, tossed him a.357 Annihilator. "Ready to tussle, Marshal?"

Hopped up on a nectarine kiss, Tuck broke into a run. "Let's kick some scurvy a.s.s."

CHAPTER 8.

Amelia stood, stunned and reeling from Tucker Gentry's kiss. Not so intimate nor intrusive as Phin's fervid a.s.sault, but twice-no, aeons more powerful. She wanted more. She wanted Tucker.

The ship shook with an explosion, shattering her sensual daze and prodding her into action. Cowering in his cabin, hiding quiet as a mouse? She couldn't imagine. From what she'd seen this airship operated with a skeleton crew. Surely she could help. An unknown variance? A wild card of sorts?

Tucker would not appreciate her presence. And what if Doc or Eli tried to protect her instead of the airship? What if their crewmates suffered? No, if she joined this fight, better to blend with the men. Heart pounding, she hobbled to the ma.s.sive chest pushed against the starboard wall. Yes, it was rude to poke about in someone's belongings, but she a.s.sumed good manners were moot in times of danger. Rooting through her host's clothing, she quickly settled on a worn greatcoat with an attached cowl. She traded her own coat for Tucker's-overly large and long on her pet.i.te frame, all the better to disguise her womanly curves. She wrapped one scarf around her neck, hiding the lower portion of her face, then pulled on her goggles and Papa's top hat. Feeling somewhat anonymous, she procured the stun pistol from her satchel and slid it into the voluminous coat's pocket, then nabbed her walking cane and limped toward the door.

Thud. Thud.

Though helpful, the bra.s.s stick knocked against the planked floors and could well alert someone of her approach. Amelia retracted the cane and stuffed the mechanism into her other pocket. She'd have to deal with the limp.

Breathing deeply, she lifted the long hem of Tucker's coat and braved the hall, creeping forward as silently as possible. Her own ears rang with the boisterous activity above: shouting, gun blasts, tussling footfalls. A battle raged, filling Amelia with fascination and dread. She'd craved adventure and she'd gotten it. Crikey.

She neared a ladder and paused, startled by sudden chilling silence. Had someone surrendered? Was everyone dead? Swiping her clammy hands down Tucker's wool coat, she steeled her spine, then crept up the rungs. Nearing the top, she heard voices and froze in place.

"Ye're ootnumbered and ootgunned, Sky Cowboy."

"But not outsmarted."

The other man laughed, a grave and haughty sound that caused Amelia to frown in disgust. His arrogance would be his undoing. Was he unaware of Tucker's history? His reputation? Did he really think he'd bully a man who'd tangled with the most notorious outlaws in the American West?

"I'll match my Boomer Cannons and Stormerator against yer wits anytime, mate."

"I'm not your friend, Dunkirk."

"That's Captain Dunkirk to ya," a third voice barked.

The Captain Dunkirk? Amelia wondered. Scottish Shark of the Skies? b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Perhaps there was reason for concern.

"Ya holding a grudge because I beat ya in faro last month, cowboy?"

"Easy to win when you're a low-down cheat," Axel said.

"I'm p.i.s.sed," Tucker said, "because you blew a hole in my bally."

"Prepared to dae worse if ya dinnae give me what I want."

Amelia reached in her pocket and palmed her gun. She couldn't imagine Tucker and his men giving over anything to these plundering, murdering scoundrels. She braced for a fight. As soon as chaos commenced, she'd sneak on deck and stun the living daylights out of someone. Unless the gun malfunctioned. Highly possible, since it was a prototype of Papa's. She considered the retracted cane. She might do better with a blow and a jab.

"Hand over the la.s.s," Dunkirk said, "and ya and yer men live to see another day."

Amelia blinked. Was he referring to her?

"No women on this boat," Eli said.

"Bad luck," Axel said.

"True, that," Dunkirk said. "But worth the risk with almost a million pounds at stake. What say you?" he asked in a louder voice, causing several men-his crew?-to cheer.

Amelia's brain reeled as she tried to make sense of the circ.u.mstance. How did Captain Dunkirk, an infamous air pirate of international skies, know that she, an inconsequential citizen of Kentshire, was aboard the Maverick and in pursuit of the jubilee prize money? Overcome with curiosity, she peeked out of the windowed hatchway.