Her Sky Cowboy (34 page)

“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 shell. 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.”

Her pulse kicked as he guided her to the lower deck. She didn’t remember much about yesterday’s rescue via horseback. “Is it Peg? Is he all right?”

“Peg’s fine.” Tucker stopped in front of the workroom and opened the door. “This is about Bess.”

Heart in her throat, Amelia moved into the room. Her breath stalled and her mind whirled. “How…Who…” Words failed her as she took in the wondrous sight. Papa’s kitecycle. Whole, but different.
Better
. She moved closer and inspected the bright red bone-shaker converted and fitted with dual engines and augmented wings.

“Axel helped me build this additional outboard. Similar to a streamlined blasterbeef. You won’t need a second pedaler anymore. Although if you need room for a passenger…” He thumbed a control on an added dash just below the handlebars. The section between the driver’s saddle and main rear engine expanded. He popped a switch and a cushioned seat unfolded.

“Oh, my.” Matching footrests had appeared as well. Just when she thought she had the contraption figured out, she spotted a new variance.

“We adjusted the wingspan and design. Not that there was anything wrong with your construction except—”

“This design minimizes drag and optimizes the ability to soar long distances.” Her throat tightened as she ran her hand over the canvas and peered beneath and between. “The frame—”

“Aluminum. Eli’s idea. The overall construction is similar to what I designed for Peg, although Eli incorporated his own twist.” He smiled and waggled his brows. “Step back.”

Eyes wide, Amelia held her breath as Tucker flicked another switch on the dash.

Snick, snick, snick. Thump, thump.

The wings retracted and folded into two cylinders on either side of the chassis.

“Now Bess doubles as a land velocipede.” He shook his head. “I swan, that man’s a genius.”

Amelia burst into tears.

“Oh, Christ.” Tucker rushed over and pulled her into his arms. “We tried to maintain the integrity of your pa’s design, honey. What we’d seen of it, anyway. No gondola. Open-air, just like you wanted.”

“It’s…I…”

“You hate it.”

“I…”—
sniffle
—“love it.”

“Then why are you bawlin’?”

For years she’d been dry-eyed. Calm. In control. Buttoned up. Buttoned down. Never had she been so emotional. Given her mother’s ever-dramatic state, her papa’s scatterbrained nature, and with her brothers constantly away, someone had to be the rock at home. She was out of her element, out of sorts, and amazingly touched by the kindness of veritable strangers. “I…I can’t afford to pay for the supplies and labor.”

“What?” Tucker nudged her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. “Amelia. Honey. You don’t have to pay. It’s a gift. A thank-you from Axel for saving his life. A work of art from Eli. First off, Eli lives for a challenge. Second, he likes you. As for me, I—”

She clapped her hands over his mouth. “Don’t say it. Don’t speak. Not if it’s what I think…” Her heart pounded. “I’m not ready.”

“Mohmay.”

“What?”

He removed her hands from his mouth. “I said okay.”

Unable to read his mood from his expression, she
stepped back and swiped her sleeve across her wet cheeks. She glanced at the kitecycle. “She’s not Bess anymore.”

“Amelia—”

“She’s better. The next generation. Bess Two.” She smiled and Tucker smiled back. “I don’t know what to say.”

“‘Thank you’ would be appropriate.”

She moved back into his arms and hugged tight. “Thank you, Mr. Gentry.”

He kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome, Miss Darcy.”

She bounced back on her heels and clasped her hands to her racing heart. “I must thank Eli and Axel straightaway. Oh, I cannot wait to try her out!”

“No time like the present.”

“I thought you were anxious to proceed with our mission.”

“I am.” He grinned and gestured to the kitecycle. “Bess Two is our transport to Mount Ceceri.”

“You sure about this, Marshal?”

“He’s sure, Amelia told Axel as she buckled the straps of her parachute pack.

“But we didn’t perform a test run.”

“Hence the parachute, should anything go wrong, not that it will. Do you not have faith in your work, Mr. O’Donnell?” she asked. “I do.”

“You
do
?”

“I do.” Amelia stood on her tiptoes and kissed the engineer’s bruised cheek. “Thank you again for my thank-you. I am forever grateful.”

Red-faced, Axel chomped on his unlit cigar and retreated a step. “Safe flight.”

“Remember what I told you about the wings,” Eli said.

Tucker nodded as he tugged on his gloves. “Will do.”

“Remember what I showed you,” Chang said to Amelia. He turned to Axel, reached up, and tapped his temple. The big man crumpled. “Like so.”

She gasped. “Oh, my. Um, yes. To be honest, I am not sure one lesson in acupressure was sufficient. But, yes. I will remember what you showed me.”

Tuck shook his head. “Ax is gonna be pissed when he wakes up, Birdman.”

Eyes twinkling, his mischievous friend waved him off. “I can handle Ax.”

“You have the coordinates?” StarMan asked Tuck.

“I do.” StarMan was the only one he’d trusted with their specific destination. “You have your orders.”

“I do.”

They clasped hands, then parted. StarMan returned to the cockpit and Tuck mounted Bess Two. “Sure you want me to pilot?” he asked Amelia.

“I’m sure.” She adjusted her flight cap and goggles. “One moment, please.”

She stepped away and Doc stepped in. “We always work as a team,” he said to Tuck.

“Nothing’s changed in that regard. Miss Darcy and I are making the initial move, and you and the rest of the crew will follow through on my command. Teamwork.”

“Yes, but…”

The man trailed off and Tuck frowned. “You ain’t been right since that visit to the Parisian skytown,” he said in a low voice. “If it’s because Amelia knows…”

“Disconcerting,” he admitted, “but no.”

“Then what?”

“I have a bad feeling.”

So did Tuck. It had been gnawing at his gut ever since he’d seen Doc and those rebel-talking Freaks in cahoots. “Something you wanna tell me?”

“No. I just…Doesn’t seem right, you flyin’ off with a defenseless woman.”

Tuck laughed. “Nothin’ defenseless about Amelia, kid.”

Axel stirred and moaned.

“I should tend to Ax,” Doc said.

“You do that,” Tuck said, distracted by the sight of Amelia feeding his horse a licorice drop. She must’ve filched it from his stash.

“We’ll return soon,” she said to Peg, “and when we do I promise you a long and wondrous flight.” Then she turned her attention to Leo, who’d perched on the stallion’s shoulder. “As for you, my friend, you must stay here. With the
Maverick
. With Peg. I have worries enough without fretting about your safety.”

Leo screeched and she smoothed her hand over his feathers. “We’ll sort this out,” she told the falcon. “Tucker promised.”

Her faith in him was unsettling. Sweet, but, in the words of Doc, disconcerting. Tuck still hadn’t settled on the best way to approach his past and their future. He’d been pondering the matter all night and had decided da Vinci’s supposed ornithopter was a wild card. He didn’t know how to play his hand until he held all the cards. Did the ornithopter truly exist? Was it worthy of the jubilee prize? Would Judge Titan consider it appropriate compensation for his stolen collection of miniatures once owned by King Henry VIII? What if they found something even more valuable within that secret chamber? Indecision and anticipation made him twitchy as a prostitute in church. “We need to go, Flygirl.”

She scrambled forth and mounted behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and squeezed. “Ready.”

The kitecycle felt sleek but sturdy beneath him. Amelia felt good and right behind him. In theory they were sitting on a powerful, though compact dig. In theory—and based on his and his men’s expertise—she’d work like a charm. If he were flying solo, he wouldn’t have a second thought. He glanced over his shoulder. “You sure about this?”

“Show some sass, cowboy,” she said close to his ear. “Da Vinci awaits.”

God, he loved this woman, not that she’d let him tell her.

Eli initiated the mechanism that lowered the stern gunwale, then extended a short, wide gangway.

Tuck tripped several controls on the kitecycle, primed engines, and, just as he’d done with Peg hundreds of times, gained speed and launched off the
Maverick
’s makeshift runway.

Amelia screamed in his ear. “Go, go, go!
Yeeeeeees!
”

He smiled as Bess Two’s wheels left the deck and the wings took flight. Took pride in the fact that she handled like a dream. Took joy in the knowledge that Amelia had to be thinking about her pa and his initial invention—resurrected, though revised. He steered the embellished kitecycle away from the
Maverick
, circumvented sporadic airships, keeping an eye out for the
Flying Shark
or any suspicious cloud formations. Nothing tweaked his suspicions. Still, he didn’t aim on flying open skies for long. The plan was to hit the ground and motor to Mount Ceceri amidst local automocoaches. The plan was to blend. Thanks to StarMan’s charted “shortcut,” they’d make the master’s hillside workshop in less than an hour.

Tuck checked the astronomical compendium attached to his wrist cuff and nosed Bess Two north. They buzzed over the crowded streets and ancient terra-cotta structures of Florence—churches, palaces, and museums that dated back to the Renaissance. Tuck made a mental note to return someday with Amelia, to show her the sights and wonders of a city that boasted the works of Michelangelo and Botticelli, as well as an entire museum devoted to Leonardo da Vinci.

His mind stuck on the Renaissance genius and his Tuscan workshop. How had that secret chamber remained secret all these centuries? How was it that Briscoe Darcy had been the only one to discover it?

The kitecycle dipped and rose due to an unexpected air pocket. Tuck compensated and leveled off, cursing his wandering mind. “You okay?” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Spectacular!” She rapped his shoulder. “Faster, Flyboy!”

The chilled wind roared in his ears, along with Amelia’s laughter and the rumblings of the engines. The open-air ride was similar to soaring horseback on Peg, but the engines provided greater speed and far more noise. It had been a long time since he’d felt this sort of bald rush. Amelia’s enthusiasm only intensified the thrill.

Tuck spied the edge of the city, the connecting roadways, and sporadic traffic. Utilizing his spyglass, he pinpointed landmarks and the remote field in which StarMan had suggested they land. “Hang on!”

“You’re coming in too fast!” Amelia shouted. “Kill the engines!”

“We’ll lose momentum too fast!”

“Glide! Like Peg! Like Leo!”

Right. What the hell did he know? When was the last time he’d flown and landed a mite dig like this? Never. The air dinghy was a whole different animal. Trusting Amelia’s experience and instincts, he cut the engine. The silence nearly stopped his heart, and though the subsequent landing wasn’t soft or by any means perfect, at least they didn’t crash.

The wheels bounced—once, twice, three times. Tuck applied the brakes as they skimmed the lush grass.

“Retract the wings!” Amelia shouted.

They were still in goddamned motion, but he saw the wisdom in her direction. Coming up fast: a grove of cypress trees. If he veered off at this speed he risked damaging the wings. If he didn’t veer off, he’d never make it between those trees.

“Tucker!”

Never engage or disengage the wings while in motion.
Ignoring Eli’s advice, he thumbed the control.

Snick, snick, snick. Thump, thump.

The wings retracted in the nick of time as they whizzed between two trees. Kitecycle unscathed, brakes fully engaged, Bess Two skidded to a stop.

Amelia dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “Bloody hell.”

“Damn.”

“That was—”

“Yeah.”

They burst out laughing.

Amelia caught her breath first. “Know where we are? How to get where we’re going?”

“I do.”

“Good. You navigate.” She dismounted and flashed him a blinding smile that melted his heart. “My turn to drive.”

W
ICKFORD
M
ANOR
K
ENT
, E
NGLAND

“I do not mean to question your judgment—”

“Then don’t.” Bingham ignored his mother’s scowl and continued packing. The two telepages he’d received during the unexpected visit by the police had determined this course of action. Anxious to be on his way, he’d dismissed his butler to see to his own affairs. If only his vexing mother would disappear.

“But Constable Newberry—”

“Is aware of my substantial collection of aerostats and automocoaches. As such, he assumed I store mass quantities of petrol on the grounds, and as a matter of public safety, asked me to exercise caution in its use. The shire is still reeling from the fallout of that buffoon Ashford’s explosion. Concern is natural.”