“That’s an oversimplification of it, but yes, basically, that’s correct,” Matt Mowen said as we squatted next to an emergency release valve on the number three boiler.

“And the boilers produce steam that goes from here—” I stood up and visually followed the long metal pipe as it snaked up the metal girder to disappear into a gigantic pillowy shape above us that I had been informed was technically called an envelope—“and fills the envelope, which keeps the Tesla floating.”

“Yes. Boilers one and two feed the fore and middle envelopes. Number three, here, feeds the aft envelopes, and the propellers. She’s twice the size of one and two, as you can see.” He gestured toward the second pipe that led down into the floor, assumably running to the back of the airship where a giant propeller gave the ship its forward thrust.

“Gotcha. And you use coal for the boilers?”

“Coal?” He scratched his head, looking puzzled. “Why would we use that?”

“I thought that’s what the folks in Victorian times used.”

He just stared at me.

“Sorry, that’s probably not going to make any sense to you since you didn’t have a Victorian age. Or did you?”

Matt gave me an odd look. “Was there something in particular you wanted with me, Mr. Fletcher?”

“Jack.”

“Jack, then. You said you were an engineer yourself, so I’m confused why you would be wanting an explanation of how a simple steam engine works.”

“I’m a nanoelectrical engineer. That’s sort of a specialized engineer, and I didn’t learn anything about steam power in college. If you don’t use coal for the boilers, what do you use?”

“Aether.” He frowned at a valve on the back side of the boiler.

“Er . . . that would be . . . ?”

“Aether is aether,” he said, tapping the glass front of the valve. The needle inside dropped a couple of points. He nodded at it and went back to the small, rickety desk that was bolted to the floor.

“It’s the same stuff used in your guns, isn’t it? Some form of heated plasma or something along those lines?”

He shook his head as he picked up a small toolbox and started for the door. “I don’t know what this plasma is. Aether is what’s all around us.”

I glanced around as I followed him, not sure what he meant. “Air? Like oxygen and carbon dioxide and those sorts of elements?”

“Aye, it’s an element, but not of oxygen or those gases. The aether is what holds them up.”

“OK, that’s getting a little beyond me.” I climbed after him as he went up a narrow metal ladder to the landing above. “It supports air? How does it do that?”

One of Matt’s shoulders jerked in a shrug. “I’m no scientist. I’m just a simple engineer.”

“I have a feeling that’s an understatement,” I said softly.

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Aye, well, my da always told me the modest man succeeds. Aether is the matter that holds the world together, lad. It binds everything. The extractors in the boilers remove it from the air, and heat it to make steam. Does that make more sense to you?”

“Actually, it does. It sounds to me like you’re describing gluons.”

He stopped and shot me a curious look. “A what, now?”

“Gluons. It’s a way to describe the interaction of quarks.” His face was blank with incomprehension. “Let’s see. . . . Gluons are a way to describe how protons and neutrons are bound together.”

“Binding,” he said, nodding and proceeding down the narrow catwalk. “That’s aether.”

“Right, so your steam-powered society is using nuclear physics. I can accept that.”

“Good. If there are no more questions, I’d best be getting back to work, lest the captain has my ears for talking when I should be working on the propeller slide valve. The captain thinks the valve rod isn’t moving as smoothly as it should.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to keep you,” I said, trailing after him despite his obvious attempt to get rid of me. I had too many questions to be shooed away like that. “And I do have another question.”

He stopped again and faced me with a badly concealed sigh. “You want to know how a Disruptor works? How the autonavigator functions? How aether was discovered?”

I grinned. “Actually, all of those, but for right now, I have a more burning issue uppermost in my mind. Octavia.”

“The captain?” He looked me over carefully. “You fancy her?”

“Hell, yes. And I think she likes me, too,” I said without a shred of modesty.

“Does she?” He pursed his lips for a moment, then continued down the catwalk.

“Well . . . yeah. I think. No, I’m sure. She’s just . . .” I waved a hand to indicate the mystery that was Octavia’s moods. “She seems to be avoiding me right now, but I think that’s just because she didn’t like the way that kiss turned out.”

“Oh?” He stopped again, giving me a narrow- eyed look. “I won’t have you hurting the captain. You seem likable enough, and I’m not holding with Mr. Christian’s belief that you’re really a thuggee, but I don’t hold with men hurting those weaker than themselves. Not that the captain is weak, but you’re a bright lad. You understand what I mean.”

“I understand perfectly, but that’s not what I meant. I didn’t hurt Octavia—I think I ruffled her feathers because she liked the kiss too much.”

“Ah.” He almost smiled. “Women are like that sometimes.” He proceeded to yet another ladder, this one leading downward.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I waited until he was a safe distance below me before following him down the metal ladder. “Every time I try to talk to Octavia, she finds something she has to do, and gets away before I can do more than say hi. I want to know about her, Matt. She’s infinitely interesting. I like the way she thinks—when she’s around me long enough to do so, that is. I thought you could tell me something about her.”

“You want to talk to her?”

It wasn’t what he said—it was the way he said it, as if he was shocked I wanted to do anything that didn’t involve her body pressed up against mine.

“Yes, I do.” I gave him a long look. “I may not be able to keep thoughts about her being naked out of my head, Matt, but I’m not just looking for a quick lay. I want to get to know her. Maybe if I understand her better, I will be able to combat this need she feels to keep me at arm’s length.”

“I hardly know the captain. I met her about a week before you came on board.”

“Right, but I’ve watched you—you notice things. You must have made some judgment about her.”

He waited until I jumped down the last few rungs to land a few feet from a small wooden door. “She’s lonely.”

“She is?” That surprised me. “She doesn’t act lonely.”

“Aye, well, that’s an insight into her all by itself. If your intentions towards her are honorable, and not of the sort of the other men she’s filled her life with, then you might succeed. She’s alone in the world now that Robert Anstruther is dead, and a smart man, one who had her best wishes at heart, might be able to fill the void he left in her heart.”

“Robert Anstruther?” I tried to remember the names of the lovers that Octavia had mentioned. He hadn’t been one of them.

“Her foster father, not her man friend,” Matt said.

“Oh, that’s right. She did mention him.”

“You want to get her talking, you ask her about him. Now be off with you. There’s only room for one on the propeller platform, and I don’t want to be explaining to the captain why you fell overboard.”

“Thanks, Matt,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. He gave me a little nod and smile, then went through the door to an outer platform, the wind whipping through it with a punch that sent me reeling backward a few steps.

“Her dad, huh?” I mused as I retraced my steps down to the main cabin area, which I’d heard Octavia refer to as the gondola. “Speak of the devil,” I said as I caught sight of a red jacket and navy skirt whisk around the corner of a doorway. I followed, closing the door softly behind me. “Hello, sweetheart. All alone in here, are you?”

“Jack!” She jumped as she turned. “Er . . . that is, Mr. Fletcher, you startled me.” Her gaze narrowed on me. “You wouldn’t be taking lessons from Mr. Llama on how to creep up on me, would you?”

“You were right the first time—it’s Jack. And I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought I’d take the opportunity of finding you alone to have a little talk with you.”

She moved a bit to the side, her gaze slipping to the left. “I’m afraid that I have to set the autonavigator. Its mechanics seem to be beyond Mr. Christian’s ability.”

I looked at the large lump of machinery behind her. It sat on a small wooden desk, a mass of clockwork, whirring gears, and three rows of small dials. “You go right ahead. We can talk while you do that.”

She didn’t like that. I could tell by the way she kept glancing over my shoulder at the door. “Well . . . I suppose. What did you wish to speak about?”

I laughed. “You don’t have to sound so resigned, Octavia. I’m not going to bite you. Well, I might, if you asked nicely.”

She blushed. It thrilled me almost as much as the speculative light that flared in her eyes for a few seconds before reserve claimed her again. “I am not opposed to speaking with you, Mr. Fletcher. It’s just that I have many tasks awaiting my attention.”

“Go ahead and take care of your autonavigator. We can talk while you do that.”

A little flicker of irritation was visible in those lovely velvety brown eyes. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever you like. Something of interest to us both.”

Her gaze shot to my mouth, instantly making me hard. It was just that quick. One moment I was relaxed, leaning against the door, admiring her boobs when she wasn’t looking at me, and the next, I was toting wood. I became even harder when the tip of her little pink tongue emerged to lick her lips, her teeth biting on her lower lip for a second making my blood boil. Damn. I wanted to kiss her again. And again after that. And probably again for several more decades.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Huh?” Maybe if I kissed her for a little bit, there would still be time to talk afterward. I wanted so badly to taste her mouth again, taste that sweetness that seemed to be a part of her, I damn near died denying myself.

“Pardon?”

I shook away the memory of her mouth so softly enticing beneath mine and made an effort to focus on the words that emerged from between those delectable, delicious lips. “Sorry, you asked me what? Oh, what would interest us both? I thought you could tell me a little bit about your father.”

Her gaze left my lips, the pupils flaring. “My father? Robert Anstruther?”

“Yes. Matt said you were missing him. I take it he’s dead?”

“He’s gone, yes.” She bowed her head. “And I do miss both him and his wife, Jane. As I mentioned, they were my foster parents, not my true parents, but I could not love them more if they had been.”

“Does it upset you to talk about them?” I asked, my erection dying in the face of her grief. I wanted to comfort her, to take her in my arms and protect her from the sadness in the world, but I had a suspicion if I touched her, my dick would take control again.

She was silent a moment, then straightened her shoulders and gave me a level, if dewy-eyed, look. “No. Did you wish to know something in particular about Robert Anstruther?”

“Well, let’s start with why you call him Robert Anstruther.”

Twin lines formed between her brows. “That’s his name.”

“I understand that, but why do you refer to him by his full name?”

“It’s his name,” she repeated, clearly puzzled.

“OK. Let’s try this—how old were you when they adopted you?”

“I was six years old.”

“That’s pretty young for such a big change. Matt said he was an airship captain—is that why you’re one, too?”

She set down a small wrench she had been using to tighten one of the gears on what must be the autonavigator. “For the most part, yes, but I wasn’t pushed into it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Robert and Jane told me I could choose whatever profession I desired, and they would support me.” Her gaze slipped into one that looked back through time, a little smile playing with the corners of her lips.

I mentally willed down the erection that started forming the minute I thought about her mouth.

“I remember the first time I went on board an airship. It was just a domestic flight, from London to Edinburgh, where we were going for a summer holiday. I stood out on the observation deck for hours, according to Jane, and had to be forcibly brought inside. I loved the way the wind whipped around me, loved the gentle chug-chug of the propellers, even loved the whoosh of the steam as it burped out of the release valves. It was glorious, invigorating, and exciting all at once. I felt like a bird perched at the front of the gondola, and vividly remember standing with my arms stretched out, feeling as if I could take flight myself. I knew at that moment that what I wanted most of all was to fly my own ship.”

“It sounds wonderful. You’re a lucky woman to have achieved your dream.”

Her gaze focused on me again, another faint blush pinkening her cheeks. “I am lucky. And I’m also sorry for going on at such length—I am prone to being carried away with reminiscing.”

“Don’t apologize. I enjoyed it. Octavia . . .”

“Yes?”

I struggled with myself for a moment, knowing I should just walk out of the room, but the sight of her there, flushed and pink and so enticing, threw all common sense out. “I want to kiss you.”

Her eyes widened, her gaze once again dropping to my mouth. “I see.”

“Would you be offended, appalled, or otherwise unwilling for me to do that?”

“I have work to attend to,” she said, still watching my mouth with a fascination that I wholly shared.

“It won’t take long,” I said, and realized that I was close to babbling or pleading with her, so desperate was I to taste her again. “You can get right back to whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Well...”

That was all I needed. I slid my arms around her waist, gently pulling her toward me. “Just a quick kiss. Just the slightest brushing of mouths, all right?”

“Very well, but it must be fast. I don’t have time for dalliances right now. And your hands must remain above my waist at all times,” she said as I slid my hands under her bustle to feel her ass.

“If you insist,” I said, cupping her breasts, instead.

“Mr. Fletcher!” she said, all breathy outrage and interest.

“Your boobs are above your waist.”

We both looked down to where my hands were filled with cloth- and lace-covered mounds of pure ecstasy.

“No other man has ever just held them like that,” she said, her breasts pressing a little more into my hands.

“You are quite brazen and I should insist you stop this instant.”

“Has anyone ever done this?” I asked, rubbing my thumbs across the very peak of them.

She froze, not breathing. “No. That is also quite wrong.”

“How about this?” I couldn’t help myself. God alone knew I tried, but I couldn’t stop from dipping my head down, and licking the cleft between her boobs. She smelled like violets, and sweet, warm woman. My dick hurt so bad, it made my head spin. That or the taste and feel of her soft, heaving breasts.

She clutched my hair, writhing against me. “That would be . . . oh, mercy, could you . . . yes, right there . . . that would be beyond acceptable. You must stop immediately. Just as soon as you do that tongue thing again.”

I swirled my tongue down the length of the cleft, wondering if there was any way in heaven or hell I could talk her into my bed that night. “If it’s unacceptable, then I will stop.”

“Good,” she said, panting a little, her eyes misty with desire. I was smugly pleased that she was so receptive to the attraction that we shared.

“Yes, you are. And now, the kiss you promised me.”

Her eyes widened as she took a step back, one restraining hand on my chest. “I think perhaps that will suffice. I do have things to attend to.”

I frowned as she pulled up the bit of lacy top I’d dislodged when I face-dived into her cleavage. “Oh no. You promised me a kiss, and I intend to hold you to that.”

Before she could say anything more, I pulled her into an embrace that allowed her to feel every inch of me, including the parts that were presently trying to burst out of my pants, and nibbled her lower lip until she parted her mouth with a sigh. “Very well, but just a quick—”

I groaned with the taste and feel of her mouth, the heat of it firing desire that already burned deep in my guts. She was like a bonfire of passion, a sweet, endlessly sweet pool of desire, and I dipped into it again and again, savoring every blessed moment. I pulled her hips closer to me, and she rewarded me with a wiggle that almost had me coming on the spot. But when she moaned into my mouth, her fingers digging into my butt, trying to pull me closer as her tongue danced around mine, I knew that something profound was happening. This wasn’t just a sexual itch that badly needed scratching. This was something more, and I didn’t know if there was any way I could stop it from happening.

“Captain, I—crikey! Unhand her, you murderous thuggee!”

I was rudely jerked backward out of Octavia’s embrace, my body crying a lament over that fact. “You have the worst timing of anyone I’ve ever known, and that includes my sister,” I told Al the first officer as he glowered at me. His face was almost as red as his hair.

“It’s all right, Mr. Christian,” Octavia said, clearing her throat a couple of times. She was almost as red as he was, and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You have nothing for which to chastise Mr. Fletcher.”

“I don’t?” He looked from her to me, enlightenment dawning. I didn’t think it was possible, but he flushed even harder than she did. “Oh. I . . . oh. I’ll just . . . yes.”

He slipped out without stammering anything more. Octavia sighed. “He thinks we’re lovers.”

I gave her my most insouciant grin. “Nothing wrong with that idea.”

“On the contrary, I can think of a number of things. And no, I will not detail them now,” she added quickly, forestalling the request I was about to make. She returned to the table bearing the machinery, and picked up her wrench. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Fletcher, I have work to do.”

“This isn’t over, you know,” I told her, opening the door.

She sighed again. “I know.”

Twice Jack caught me hurrying past him in the gangway, intent on some business or other. The first time he let me go with nothing but a laugh, but the second was much more disconcerting.

“You’re not still avoiding me, are you?” he asked two days after he had kissed me in the navigation room.

“What an absurd question. As if I would avoid anyone,” I said, adroitly sidestepping the question.

“I’m sorry if you think it’s absurd, but I don’t play games with people,” he said, the amusement in his eyes fading. “At least not those sort. I believe in calling a spade a spade, and I’ve had the feeling the last day that you’re deliberately keeping yourself unavailable. I had hoped we could get to know each other a little better.”

“Is that a euphemism for those acts you engaged in on Monday?”

He made a little shrugging gesture, his mismatched eyes twinkling with enjoyment. “I wouldn’t have any objection at all to kissing you again, if that’s what you’re asking. Otherwise, no, it wasn’t a euphemism. I’m quite honest in my desire to get to know you better.”

“It’s been my experience that most men who say that simply do so in order to seduce women to their beds.”

“I am not most men,” he pointed out.

Oh, how I knew that. No other man had filled my mind so completely with thoughts of the most intimate nature, not to mention all the usual desires, needs, and wants that accompanied such a fascination. I glanced down the gangway toward the direction I had just come, wanting to escape, knowing if I didn’t keep my distance from him, I’d end up with a bigger situation on my hands than I already had. “I am the captain, Mr. Fletcher. You might be unfamiliar with airship travel, but surely even you must realize that I have duties and obligations that do not include the entertainment of unexpected passengers. I have tasked Mr. Dooley with seeing to the comforts of your sister and you; I am sorry if he has not been able to achieve the level of service you are used to—”

“Stop,” Jack said, putting his hand on my arm as I was in the process of sidling past him. I froze, feeling his hand as if it were a brand on my flesh. “I am not complaining. Neither of us are—Hallie says you have excellent taste in literature, and she’s enjoying reading the books you gave her. And I’m perfectly happy following Mowen around and learning the ins and outs of steam boilers, although he’s probably getting sick and tired of my questions. It’s not the fact that you’re busy and have a job to do that bothers me.”

“I am delighted to hear that,” I said, trying to edge past him again. All that did was bring me into close proximity to him, however. He took my other arm in his hand, turning me gently until I faced him.

“You’re avoiding me, Octavia. And I have a bad feeling I said something to offend you.”

I stared at the cross tie sitting so jauntily in the center of his two snowy collar tips. I knew his face would reflect nothing but earnestness, but I didn’t want to see it. One look at those eyes, and I would be lost. It was far better that he think me a coward, a woman who didn’t care how rude she was so long as she did her job. There would be no complications, no potential trouble, that way.

“Octavia?”

His voice was low and intimate, caressing me, but I hardened my heart against it. “I am wanted in the propeller room, Mr. Fletcher. If you will allow me to pass, I would be grateful.”

His hands dropped away from my arms. I felt lower than a beetle as I edged around him. I made it past him, taking a deep breath as I started on my way to the rear of the airship, and congratulating myself on standing firm when my heart screamed its protest of such actions.

“I’m sorry for whatever it is I’ve done,” Jack said from behind me. Unbidden, my feet stopped.

The pain in his voice pierced through to my soul. I turned back to face him, wanting to explain everything, wanting to tell him about Etienne, about Alan and William, about my goals and my plans and my dreams. And more than anything, I wanted to kiss him again. But I couldn’t do any of those things. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” I said with regret for all that had been, and all that couldn’t be. “If things were different—but they aren’t. Tomorrow we will land in Rome. You and your sister will be free to pursue your return to wherever it is that you came from.”

“Assuming we can,” he said, making a wry face.

“I’m afraid I have little advice to offer you there,” I said primly.

“I know. I’ll find a way, I’m sure. But what about you?”

“Me?”

“What will you do?”

My gaze dropped. “I will do my duty, Mr. Fletcher. It’s what I have been raised to do.”

“That sounds like a very cold and unhappy future,” he said, then gave me a little bow, turned on his heel, and strode off in the opposite direction.

The following day we stopped at Parcetti, a small village about an hour outside Rome. In an attempt to spare the crew of any charges of complicity, I ordered them to their quarters, assisting Mr. Mowen myself as we lowered the airship to the uneven ground of a rocky hillside. I watched the engines while he wrestled two crates out of the forward hold, depositing them without any ceremony. We regained our standard flying altitude, then continued on to Rome, having lost less than an hour from our schedule.