Salvage

by Meljean Brook

  “In the coach, under the bench.”

  Heart pounding, she glanced at the airship again. Just a personal yacht or a small passenger ship, though by the gleam of its polished hull, a rather fine one. Why had the sight of it alarmed him? Who did he think was coming?

  The clank of metal against metal turned her head. Thom had found the ammunition box, set it on the coach’s boot. He shoved his sleeve up over his steel left arm. With his opposite thumb, he flicked open a small panel on the inside of his forearm, revealing a cylindrical chamber. He began loading the bullets into his arm, one by one.

  Georgiana’s lips parted in shock. What in the world? “Thom?”

  “You hide, Georgiana. You stay in this shed, out of sight. No matter what.”

  “Why? Who are they?”

  “The same pirates that took Oriana.” He snapped the chamber in his arm closed and covered it with his sleeve. “Maybe they think I still have some of the coins. I don’t know. I’ll give them the last one and send them on their way.”

  And if he truly thought they’d leave so easily, would he be telling her to hide? Georgiana wasn’t going to fall for that. “Thom.”

  His jaw clenched. “Listen to me. He aimed a rail cannon at Oriana’s deck and came aboard, asking for the coin chest. I offered to give it over, even though it meant I wouldn’t be coming home with anything but my ship. He said he wouldn’t risk anyone else having a claim on the gold and shot me. So you stay here. I’ll try to stop them however I can. I won’t see you hurt, too. Let me do this one thing, and protect you.”

  So Thom had given up the money, yet the pirate had put a bullet in him, anyway. And now he believed the pirate would kill him whether he gave the coin or not.

  Georgiana wouldn’t allow it to happen. “Get in the coach, Thom.”

  “We can’t outrun them.”

  “No, but if we’re moving too quickly for them to get a good shot at us, perhaps we’ll stay out of their hands long enough to make it into town.” When he shook his head and turned away from her, as if intending to leave the shed, Georgiana clamped her hands around his wrist. “Some chance is always better than none.”

  “And any risk to you is too much.” But his eyes narrowed, as if he was thinking it over again. “I’ll make a run in the coach alone. The airship will come after me. You send a wiregram to town, ask them to round up carts and send as many men as possible. When he sees them coming, the bastard might decide to fly off.”

  Not by yourself. Georgiana closed her lips against that automatic response. If the pirates caught up to Thom, she didn’t want him to be alone. But she knew this was the most practical plan, and offered the best chance of keeping them both alive and safe.

  Still, her throat tightened with worry and fear. “Be careful, Thom.”

  “I will.” For a brief moment, his gloved hand cupped her jaw, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. “You wait for the airship to turn around before you come out of the shed.”

  Georgiana nodded. Her heart an aching hammer in her chest, she stepped aside and watched Thom climb into the coach. The driver’s bench creaked under his weight. He engaged the engine and the vehicle rattled to life.

  His eyes met hers through the plate-glass windshield. Then he was off on a great huff of steam, the coach quickly picking up speed. He reached the road and sped toward town, out of her sight.

  Concealed by the shadows within the shed, Georgiana stood in an agony of tension, waiting for the airship’s sails to furl and draw in against the sides of the wooden cruiser. It flew less than a hundred yards from the shed now, but an airship couldn’t quickly turn around. It would take a few seconds to haul in the canvas.

  The pirates must have realized they’d been spotted. The engines fired, breaking their silence with a heavy thrum across the sky. The propellers began a lazy spin.

  Yet their heading didn’t change. They weren’t following Thom.

  Perhaps he’d been wrong and they hadn’t been coming after him. Perhaps their appearance was only a coincidence, and they were headed to some other destination.

  Georgiana couldn’t assume that, though. She had to prepare for the worst: that they had seen her outside earlier, and guessed that she’d remained behind.

  But what sort of preparations could be made against pirates? She would be far outnumbered. She might be able to shoot one or two before they returned fire and killed her.

  No, shooting meant certain death. She would only use her pistol as a last resort. If she waited, though . . . perhaps there would be some chance. Thom would alert the town. And she would fetch any pirate a healthy ransom, as long as he left her alive.

  The engines became louder. Blocked by the roof, she lost sight of the airship as it neared the shed, but its oval shadow darkened the ground outside. Directly overhead now. Keep flying on, keep flying on. Her pulse pounded in her ears at a dizzying pace.

  The rattle of chains sank her heart. The cargo platform was being lowered. Someone was coming down.

  Oh, God. What to do now?

  Only what she could. Straightening her shoulders and steeling her spine, Georgiana tucked her pistol into her reticule. She could reach it quickly enough. And if she was to be taken, perhaps they would assume that she only carried frivolous items and overlook the weapon.

  A clank sounded beside the shed. The rattle of chains stopped. They’d lowered the platform to the ground out of her sight—either fearing that she’d shoot their legs as they came into view or concealing their numbers. Georgiana strained to hear anything more over the thrum of the airship’s engines.

  In all the noise, the man who appeared at the shed entrance could have stomped his way there and she wouldn’t have heard him. Georgiana’s fingers tightened on her reticule. He didn’t hold a gun. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

  And he must have been the nobby gent whom Thom had spoken of. Tall and wiry, with lightly tanned skin and brown hair tied back in a queue, he was smartly dressed for a pirate. His black silk waistcoat and buff breeches didn’t show any stains or signs of wear. His tall boots gleamed with high gloss.

  He stepped into the shed and offered Georgiana a charming smile. “Mrs. Thomas, I presume.”

  This gent could presume all he liked. Georgiana raised her voice over the airship’s thrum. “If you are seeking my husband, I must tell you he’s left.”

  “He’s abandoned someone as beautiful as you? No. He’ll soon return.”

  The pirate spoke in English, not the trader’s French commonly used with strangers. He had a Manhattan City accent—and though that city lay just across the river from Prince George Island, where her own family hailed from, each word he said marked his higher class and education.

  Why would such a man resort to piracy? Georgiana couldn’t imagine. And she didn’t care to. She only wanted him gone.

  “I’ve always looked the same, sir, yet my husband has managed to leave me before. He’s quite adept at it. He’s never been as good about returning.”

  The pirate only shook his head.

  His condescending smile irritated her. How could he be so certain?

  Georgiana tried again. “If you are looking for the last gold coin, he took it with him. He said that you already possess the remainder.”

  He nodded. “It’s true, I did possess them. And that is the problem, you see. Now I require your husband’s assistance, but I doubt he will gladly offer it. I need a guarantee that he will help me. So come on out, Mrs. Thomas. I prefer to have you aboard my flyer before he returns.”

  Georgiana hesitated. If this pirate needed Thom’s help, that meant he needed her husband alive—at least for a short time. That might give them a chance to escape. Yet how could she trust the words of a pirate? She couldn’t.

  But he didn’t leave her with any choice. The pirate drew a pistol from behind his back and leveled it at her chest. As if that were a signal, he was suddenly flanked by a pale-haired woman in trousers and a shorter man, his lips fixed in a leer.
Both were armed with guns.

  “Leave your reticule, Mrs. Thomas,” the pirate said, gesturing at it with a wave of his barrel. “Unless you’ve tucked a small child in there, nothing but a weapon would weigh down the bottom so much.”

  Damn him. But she obeyed, dropping her satchel to the ground. If nothing else, its presence here might alert Marta or anyone who came to investigate Thom’s and her disappearance.

  Because they would both soon be gone. As Georgiana exited the shed, she spotted her steamcoach tearing down the road toward them, leaving a thick trail of black smoke and steam.

  Oh, Thom. He shouldn’t have returned. He should have continued on to Skagen and sought help. That would have been far more practical.

  But Georgiana could not fault her husband for this. She would have come back for him, too.

  THREE

  The bastard had taken Georgiana.

  Thom roared up to the shed at full steam and slammed to a stop. On the ground, a cargo platform waited to carry him up to the airship.

  As if he’d bloody wait.

  He grabbed the platform chain and hauled himself up, climbing hand over hand, trying to regain his control with every long pull. Not since the destruction of the Horde’s tower in England twelve years ago had so much wild rage and terror laid open his heart and clawed through his mind. Senseless with it, he’d killed dozens of the Horde soldiers who’d tried to quash the laborers’ rebellion with their weapons and vehicles, ripping their flesh apart with his iron hands, uncaring of the danger to himself.

  Thom didn’t care for his own safety now, either—and given half a chance, he would tear every damned pirate aboard this airship apart.

  But he couldn’t risk Georgiana being hurt.

  He fought for control until his fear and anger were a cold storm inside him. With a final, powerful lunge, he swung over the gunwale and dropped to the wooden deck.

  No one had a gun pointed at him. They didn’t need to.

  The nobby bastard held a pistol to Georgiana’s side. Through the rage, relief hit Thom hard. She was all right—and she was furious. Green eyes bright with anger, her face flushed, and her mouth tightening when the pirate spoke.

  “We meet again, Big Thom. As you see, I’ve had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of your lovely wife. I must confess that when I heard the talk in town that you’d been found on the beach with a coin in your pocket and a bullet in your side, I could hardly believe it. What healthy man could swim a full league through those waters, let alone one who is wounded? But with such an incentive to reach home, it is not so inconceivable after all.”

  Thom dug the coin out of his coat. He flipped it across the distance separating them. The gold hit the boards with a dull clink and rolled before bumping into the toe of the bastard’s shining boot.

  “That’s all we’ve got,” Thom said roughly. “Now let her go.”

  “That coin is all I have now, too.” As he spoke, the nobby bastard glanced at a nearby aviator. With a slight roll of his eyes, the aviator bent to scoop up the coin, then dropped it into the bastard’s open hand. “I have need of your salvaging services, Big Thom. But considering our history and the danger of what I’ll be asking you to do, I want to ensure that you don’t offer any resistance.”

  Using Georgiana to put Thom over a barrel. For her, he’d take anything. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go home.”

  “She’ll be coming with us. Mrs. Winch,” he spoke to a tall blond woman, “run down to the house and collect Mrs. Thomas’s things. A week’s worth ought to do it.” He glanced back at Thom. “I suppose your belongings were on your ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll have an opportunity to collect them. Don’t fear that we’ll treat you poorly. Mr. Blade will shortly escort you to the stateroom, where you’ll remain until we’ve reached our destination. You and your wife will be comfortable during your stay, and when you’ve finished your task, we’ll return you both to your home.”

  By the bloody stars, Thom vowed to smash the teeth out of that lying bastard’s smile before this was over. “What task?”

  “We’ll speak of it soon. Let us be on our way first. We’ve miles to go, and you have dangerous friends, Big Thom. We don’t want your absence discovered too quickly.”

  We? The nobby bastard could speak for himself. Discovery couldn’t come soon enough.

  But Thom doubted that help would come at all. It would be up to him to get Georgiana off this damned airship, and he would do anything to make sure it happened. Even if it destroyed him.

  Because losing her would, anyway.

  * * *

  Georgiana held tight to Thom’s hand as they were escorted down the ladder to the second deck. The man showing them the way, Mr. Blade, was the same leering pirate who had come to the entrance of the shed, and as they walked, he kept prodding Thom’s back with the barrel of his gun. Thom didn’t react in the slightest, but only the danger of their position prevented Georgiana from whirling on the man. Fury dogged her every step along the corridor. Whatever niceties and manners the master of this airship pretended to have, the crew obviously did not share them.

  Blade prodded them toward a cabin door at the far end of the passageway—toward the front of the vessel. Georgiana had never been on an airship before, but the narrow corridors and wooden bulkheads didn’t appear or sound much different from a sailing ship’s. The engines had been stopped while they’d waited for Thom, and from all around them came the creaking of boards and the noises of the crew. The sway was much different, however—as if they were swinging rather than rocking. Not badly enough to affect her balance, yet still disorienting.

  They reached the cabin door. Blade gave Thom another prod.

  “Go on through, the both of you. Lord Pinchpenny is playing captain, so he’s given you the fancy room. Don’t leave it unless someone’s come to get you.”

  Lord Pinchpenny? That didn’t bode well. A crew member’s blatant disrespect for the master of a ship never did. But there was little here that did bode well.

  The door closed behind them. Thom’s hard arms immediately surrounded her waist, pulled Georgiana tight against his broad chest. She clung to him, his warmth and the strong beat of his heart soothing away some of her anger and fear.

  Almost as quickly, he stepped back and swept his gaze from her head to her toes. “You’re all right?”

  “I am. Oh, Thom. Who is this man?”

  He shook his head. “No idea. But he’s not a pirate, as I thought.”

  “Not a pirate? He stole your coins and your ship.”

  And Georgiana wasn’t surprised that Lord Pinchpenny had heard all about Thom in Skagen. She was only surprised that he’d flown there. Pirates avoided the harbor, preferring rum dives and lawless cities like Port Fallow. Georgiana could only recall one pirate coming into town—Mad Machen, in his search for Ivy Blacksmith.

  “He stole them, just as a pirate would,” Thom agreed. “But look at this cabin, Georgie. This isn’t a pirate ship.”

  She’d barely had a moment to look. Turning, she saw that Thom was probably right. Roughly triangular to accommodate the shape of the bow, with a personal privy cabinet taking the point, the stateroom abounded in luxuries. Deep rugs of blue and cream covered the deck boards. Sunlight streamed through two thick glass portholes, twice the diameter of any she’d ever seen in a ship. A table large enough to seat four stood beneath one of the portholes, and a settee upholstered in blue damask lay beneath the other. A full-sized bed topped by a fine, pale blue counterpane sat flush against the port bulkhead, and there was still room enough for a wardrobe and washstand.

  She glanced at the rugs again. Only someone who thought nothing of cleaning would ever put a pale color on the floor. This was a wealthy man’s personal vessel. Perhaps the pirates had stolen this as well, but if so, they likely wouldn’t have kept this cabin waiting for passengers.

  “But what of the crew?” she wondered. A motley bunch. She hadn�
��t seen even one liveried servant. “They don’t fit here.”

  “They don’t. Blade said that the nobby gent was playing captain.” Thom strode to the starboard porthole and looked out. “I’m thinking that he put the regular crew off and hired mercenaries.”

  A cold slip of fear trickled down Georgiana’s spine. She’d have preferred pirates. Most of them operated by a code. They would kidnap and steal and murder, but in trade for ransom, they’d usually leave most captives alive. She might have been able to negotiate that.

  But mercenaries had no code except the cash they received from their employers. And anyone who kept a personal flyer probably had more at his disposal than Georgiana did.

  “If he hired mercenaries,” she said, “then he had a job in mind.”

  Eyes cold, Thom glanced back at her. “Yes.”

  A job that he didn’t want his regular crew to be involved in . . . or to know about. Such as boarding a salvage ship and shooting her captain.

  “Whatever his purpose, he needs to keep you alive for it,” Georgiana said. “And he will keep me alive to see that you perform it. While he does that, we’ll watch for a chance to escape.”

  As she spoke, the engines started again, the thrum humming through the airship. The boards vibrated under her feet. Flying away from home.

  She fought the panic that fluttered in her belly. They would come back home. Alive.

  As if seeing her distress, Thom returned to her side. Earlier when he’d looked down at her, his face had been gentle. Now determination hardened each bold feature. “I won’t let any harm come to you. We will escape.”

  Nodding, she desperately tried to think of how they would. Her gaze fell to his gloved hands. “You put bullets in your arm—do they function as guns?”

  His lips twitched. “Among other things.”

  His humor sparked her own, and she grinned up at him. Her husband was a man of surprises. Of course he couldn’t shoot anyone now, just as she hadn’t dared to fire her pistol. They would have to wait for the right moment. When the time came, however, hopefully these mercenaries would be surprised by her husband, as well.