Her Sky Cowboy Part 28

"What offer?"

A disoriented rambling then, and for the best, since he wasn't sure thirty percent would do it. Plus, he still didn't know for certain what he was dealing with regarding the "invention." "Never mind." He stroked matted curls from her damp forehead, held her close. "Still with me?"

"I'm here," she said in a scratchy voice. "Dizzy but present."

"Coherent. That's good. I need you strong in body and spirit, Amelia. We're less than a day from Tuscany, and I've got a bad feeling about Dunkirk. He's not one to forgive or give up. Let's just get the d.a.m.ned ornithopter and we'll sort things out after. Sound good?"

"Sounds logical." She offered her hand in agreement.

Instead of grasping her palm he placed it over his pounding heart. "I can think of better ways to seal the deal, darlin'." He kissed her then, sweetly, softly. To h.e.l.l with denying the physical attraction burning between them. She kissed him back and his heart did a jig. Bursting with affection and relief, Tuck eased her back on the pillows. "Can I call for Doc?"

She nodded. "The sooner, the better." Shivering now, she snuggled deeper beneath the covers. "I'm most anxious to...sort things out."

Tuck moved to call Doc Blue, pausing to unleash a heartfelt plea. "For chrissake, Flygirl, don't ever scare me like that again."

She quirked a shaky smile. "I shall strive to bore you instead."

He laughed at that. "As if you could."

CHAPTER 26.

The London Informer

January 16, 1887

ROYAL REJUVENATION.

OR ROYAL MISTAKE?.

According to an inside source, Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, has embraced the Triple R Tourney sponsored by an anonymous benefactor via the British Science Museum. Celebrating inventions of historical significance not only honors Prince Albert's pa.s.sion for science, but maintains the queen's conviction to focus on past accomplishments rather than encourage the pursuit and development of anachronistic marvels beyond our natural scope. Old Worlders celebrate any cause for the reclusive queen's enthusiasm and therefore rejoice in the mounting excitement of the Triple R. Outspoken New Worlders continue to condemn the suppression of technological knowledge and ideological preachings of the twentieth-century Peace Rebels. Rumblings of an underground rebellion have jubilee coordinators on their proverbial toes, although they have a.s.sured our source that the threat of violence will not dampen the festivities. Voice your opinion to the editor. The Triple R Tourney-Royal Rejuvenation or Royal Mistake?

Bingham smiled as he skimmed similar articles in the London Daily and Victorian Times. Civil unrest benefited his personal cause. He welcomed it. Encouraged it. An uprising. His mind churned with a dozen different ways to profit from a rebellion. Meanwhile his own inside source had a.s.sured him that he would be notified promptly of any changes in the scheduled jubilee celebration. As of yesterday, his covert activities were beginning to pay off.

The members of Aquarius were mollified, and plans for the a.s.sa.s.sination were in motion.

He'd heard from a Mod tracker who had a new lead on the location of Professor Maximus Merriweather.

Wilhelmina Goodenough had joined Simon Darcy on his quest, and Captain Dunkirk had a jump on Amelia Darcy, thanks to information leaked to a Freak informant from one of Gentry's own men. The elder brother, Jules, was the only Darcy to escape Bingham's web just now. With so many new and positive developments, he scarcely cared. Not that he intended to give up the hunt. One of his contacts would come through and he'd soon have a tail on the science fiction writer as well. By hook or by crook, he'd have possession of a time machine, or at least the designs allowing him to build his own.

"You're looking quite smug," his mother said whilst breezing into the room.

"I confess I am in a brilliant mood."

"I revel in your happiness, dear, and thus regret being the harbinger of troubling news."

Bingham carefully folded and stacked the newspapers on his desk, confident that little could spoil this most promising day. "Do tell."

Shoulders hunched, eyes bright, she wrung her hands-a rare and nervous gesture. "Constable Newberry is here and wishes to speak with you regarding the death of Lord Ashford."

CHAPTER 27.

Amelia woke from oblivion, smiling when she realized she was coc.o.o.ned in Tucker's embrace. Her face snuggled against his bare chest, she breathed deeply. Soap mixed with the lingering scents of bay rum and leather. Heaven. She shifted gently and lifted her gaze, surprised that he was wide-awake. "Why are you here?"

"Good morning to you too, Flygirl."

She flushed under his teasing expression. "I just meant...shouldn't you be topside?" Sunbeams slanted through the partially cracked drapes of the stern windows, announcing a new day. "Isn't it your watch?"

"The crew insisted I relinquish my shift in order to watch over you."

Thoughtful, she supposed, but bothersome. "Yet again I have proven a disruption and an inconvenience. And poor Mr. O'Donnell. If not for me-"

"If not for you, he'd be dead. He's the first to admit it and means to thank you."

She furrowed her brow. "Really?"

"Amelia, honey, there aren't many women who'd go head-to-head with a miscreant like Dogface. Ax still thinks you're crazy, but crazy like a fox."

"As in sneaky?"

"As in unpredictable. Sly. Fearless."

She snorted. "I froze when he told me to run. I was plenty scared."

"You did your share of damage. Trust me. And in defense of a man who treated you with disdain from day one."

"Mr. O'Donnell is a frustrating man, to be certain, but he didn't deserve to die. As for Dogface Flannigan..." She shook off his gruesome last breath. "Given his odious past and horrid inclinations, I am striving to dismiss him from my mind."

"Good."

"The world is a better place."

"Yes, it is."

"One step closer to utopia."

"A fervent believer," Tucker said with a lopsided smile. "Smacks of trouble, yet I love you for it."

She stared at him, heart pounding, skin burning. Surely he didn't mean...No. He mentioned the word love casually, in pa.s.sing, pertaining to her pa.s.sion, not her person. Not the same as saying, I love you. That would be, well, awful. Glorious and awful.

He pushed up to his elbow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look funny."

She smoothed a hand over her tangled hair. "It's the pink."

"I love the pink."

"Stop saying that."

"What?"

The man was oblivious. Clueless. Yet if he mentioned the word love one more time, she'd have to conk him. It made her stomach flutter and her head swim. Marriage was one thing, love another. She couldn't wrap her brain around either. Yes, she believed in utopia. Yes, she believed in Tucker. But with her wits fully about her, she didn't quite believe in her own utopia with Tucker. A happily-ever-after seemed too surreal. Too good to be true. As it was, she was already in pursuit of a happily-ever-after for her family. Fame and fortune? Love and wedded bliss? Surely G.o.d would not deem her worthy of two grand prizes. What if she had to choose? "Can we change the subject?" she asked, pushing upright.

"The subject of your hair?"

"Never mind."

He crossed his muscled arms over his magnificent chest, angled his head, and studied her hard. "You okay?"

"Spectacular."

"No aches or pains? No dizziness?"

She blinked, thinking back on how horrid she'd felt the day before. "Now that you mention it...No chills. No headache. No nausea." The last time she'd taken truly ill, she'd been down for four days. She smiled. "What an astonishing recovery!"

She remembered then that Doc had returned and laid his hands upon her, generating blessed warmth and tingly vibrations that surged beneath the skin and ran hot in her blood. Soon after she'd fallen into a deep sleep. No dreams of Papa or troubling explosions. No nightmares involving Monster Man/Dogface. Just blissful, healing darkness. "Doc Blue's gift...When I think of what he could do for others-"

"Don't start, darlin'. Doc needs to make his own choices. Follow his own path."

"I know, I just..." She shook her head. "His circ.u.mstance is most troubling."

"He seems to be wrestling with it these days, more than usual. I need to talk to him about that." Tucker kissed her forehead, then rolled out of bed.

"Now?" Amelia gawked at his naked body as he strolled toward the electric water heater. Every muscle rippled, and that fantastical tattoo seduced her more soundly than a shiny new aerostat. When he regarded her over his broad shoulder, hair rumpled, eyes twinkling, her vow to sever their physical relationship went up in smoke.

As if reading her thoughts, he quirked an ornery brow. "Ask."

A sensual thrill shot to her core. "Come here."

He turned and she got a look at him full-on. "That wasn't askin' so much as tellin'."

She eyed his jutting erection, then yanked her chemise over her head, giving him a prime view of her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pebbled buds.

"Good enough." He closed the distance between them, pressing her back on the bed and kissing her dizzy. "We're closing in on our destination, darlin'. Don't have time for slow."

"Don't want slow," she rasped, wrapping her legs around his thighs and grasping his spectacular rear.

"And there's a matter of restraint. I've been hard for you since-"

"Tucker."

"What?"

"Shut up and give me a fast and furious ride to the stars."

Smiling, he slid deep. "Hold tight, Flygirl."

"You too, Cowboy."

Thirty minutes later, dressed and flushed from their frenzied lovemaking and hurried ablutions, Amelia and Tucker stepped into the hall.

"We should be over Florence by now," Tucker said. "I asked StarMan to circle and blend with local air traffic until we joined him topside."

"I fail to see how the Maverick could blend. She's magnificent."

"Much obliged, but her magnificence lies in her workings, not her sh.e.l.l. We're not flying a distinctive flag, the blasterbeefs are cloaked, and we lowered the masts and hoisted the bally. No fancy maneuvers. Just an ordinary air transport on ordinary business."

"No offense, but I don't think any of that would fool Captain Dunkirk."

"It would not. But he'd be daft to attack in broad daylight over a major city where Italia ALE could easily intercede."

Amelia smiled. "True. But what about the open skies between here and Mount Ceceri?"

"This is as far as the Maverick goes. Wait," he said when she reached for the ladder. "I want to show you something."