by Lora Leigh
Relief almost knocked Georgiana’s knees from under her when she saw Southampton’s nod.
He returned to the gangway, a pleasant smile fixed around his mouth. “Forgive me. Of course I would never deny you the means to support your family, Big Thom—especially as you’ve done my family so great a service. We will stay until tomorrow, then.”
Good enough. They only needed tonight.
* * *
The pains soon hit Thom again, though not so hard. He’d taken a longer time coming up and hadn’t been down so long. Georgiana still worried every second, checking his temperature for fever and doing her best to soothe him.
As soon as he slept, she began to prepare. She rolled up two blankets and strapped them together, so they would be easy to carry on her back. When their noontime meal arrived, she requested extra bread for her sick husband, then made a satchel from the skirts of her pink dress and stuffed into it everything from their plates that wouldn’t leak. Coats and hats and gloves and scarves. Thom only had one change of clothes, but she dressed in her warmest wool, with two pairs of stockings.
When he woke, she had everything ready and had settled into the chair by his bed. There were still several more hours to wait. Fewer mercenaries would be on watch late at night, and any bit of fire would be easier to spot and extinguish.
Thom sat up in the bed, his gaze searching her face. “You’ve thought of it.”
“Yes.” She drew a deep breath. “We have to cut open the balloon.”
His big body tensed and he shook his head, as if in instinctive rejection. “If it catches fire, Georgie—”
“I know.” That was the reason it had taken her so long to think of this plan: Cutting open a balloon was simply unthinkable. “But when we come up from the porthole and onto the deck, we’ll have the advantage of surprising the watch. You’re strong enough to pierce the envelope?”
Not everyone would be. The metal fabric was made to withstand weather and birds and the weight of the ship. Georgiana doubted that she could stab a knife through—the blade would just slide across the envelope’s surface. But she didn’t have Thom’s arms.
“I can,” he said.
“Just the threat of ripping through it will make them run to smother all the flames on deck and sound the alarm. And after it’s leaking, not one would dare use his guns.”
Thom was nodding now. “They couldn’t come after us, either.”
“So we could lower the boat to the water,” she said. “Get in and go.”
He settled back against the pillows again. Frowning, thinking it over. She waited for him to decide.
With a heavy sigh, he said, “It’s a hell of a risk, Georgie.”
But that response meant he would take it.
“I know,” she said, and when he reached out and tugged on her fingers, she slid onto the bed and curled against him. His arms came around her, and she rested her head back against his shoulder.
Holding on to each other, while they could.
Quietly, she lay with him. His back propped by the pillows, Thom stared out the porthole, and she knew he was going over it all in his head again.
“When they sound the alarm, all the crew will come up,” he said.
“Yes.” She slid her hand over his chest. “But we have to make sure they sound it. Or someone might come up with a lantern.”
He nodded. “I’m just thinking about you, Georgie. There’s ten mercenaries, and I can handle them if they come at me. You’ve just got to make sure you’re behind me or out of sight.”
“All right.” She wouldn’t argue. If Thom knew she was safe, he would be safer, too. “What about Southampton?”
“That depends on him. I’d like to kill him for every threat he made toward you. But I won’t go out of my way to do it. My only concern is getting you off this ship.” He stroked his fingers down her arm. “When we go out, you’ll have to hold on to the rail while I take care of those on deck. Can you do that?”
Hanging on to the outside of the ship. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“You are.” Shifting her against him, he tipped her chin up and looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “You are, Georgie. And I didn’t think of it much until now. Growing up, everyone was strong, man or woman. But out here, everyone’s almost always weaker. Not you, though. You’re infected?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After you left the last time. You always seemed so afraid of hurting me. It seemed practical to make certain that hurting me wouldn’t be so easy.”
“It wouldn’t have made a difference. Hurting is still easy. Just the healing is faster.” Gently, he smoothed his thumb across her bottom lip. “Most people are afraid that the tower will go up again—or that they’ll be zombies. You weren’t?”
“I was more afraid that you wouldn’t return to my bed again.” Her eyes filled suddenly, and she blinked at the tears, willing them away. “And I think it saved me when the lump fever came.”
Because she hadn’t caught it, though both her parents had.
“I’m sorry, Georgie.” His voice thickened. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I had been.”
She wished he had been, too. But she shook her head.
“If you hadn’t gone, Thom, I’d never have infected myself. I probably wouldn’t be alive now.” And as much as she’d missed him, Georgiana liked the woman his absence had let her become. “All that matters is that you’re here now.”
“I am.” His arms tightened around her. “I am.”
“But only until tonight.” She grinned up at him. “You’d better not be here after that.”
* * *
They waited until after midnight—when, hopefully, whoever stood watch on deck would be half-asleep and huddled down against the cold.
Carrying the blankets and her satchel, Georgiana watched Thom pinch the head of the steel bolt that fastened the thick window to the porthole frame. He twisted and pulled.
A metallic squeal rang through the cabin.
Thom froze. Heart pounding, Georgiana stared at the cabin door, waiting for the guard to burst through and see them attempting to escape.
No one. She looked back at Thom. “Try again?”
He shook his head. “We’ll need to make some other noise to cover this.”
“What noise wouldn’t bring them in?”
“No one came in when we were making noise last night.”
“Thom!” Her blush warmed her cheeks.
He grinned.
Unable to stop herself, she laughed and looked to the bed. It would be the sort of sound that might draw attention, but wouldn’t be unexpected in the cabin of a married couple. “Shall I jump on it?”
Thom shook his head again and led her to the door. Softly, he said, “That won’t be loud enough. Do it here, instead.”
Where? “I don’t understand.”
“You bang up against the door, like I’m having you against it.”
She met his quiet explanation with a look of sheer disbelief.
Without a word, Thom wrapped his hands around her waist and hefted her up. With her thighs around his hips, he pushed her back against the wooden door and gently rocked between her legs.
Oh. Her fingers curled into her palms. This was actually . . . quite . . . wonderful. Despite the urgency of their situation, despite knowing a guard stood in the passageway just beyond the door, heat began to coil inside her, winding tighter with every slow thrust.
She was almost sorry that they needed to escape.
He set her down again, then pushed at her hips, her backside bumping against the wood. “Like that, Georgie, but harder,” he murmured. “You make some loud noise, and I’ll get those bolts out.”
She nodded. “I can do that.”
“Then start yelling.”
Yelling? Georgiana thought she just had to bang against it. “What do I say?”
“Like this,” he said softly, then raised his voice. “Going to spread you wide a
nd fill you up, Georgie!”—his elbow thumped against the door and he gave a heavy grunt—“Going to shag your hot pussy deep and hard!”
“Thom!” she cried—scandalized and muffling her wild laughter behind her hands.
“You’ll soon be screaming my name.” He thumped and grunted again. “Lift your beautiful tits to my mouth now.” Thump. “I’m going to suck on your sweet nipples until you come all over my cock!”
“Thom!” With her face ablaze, Georgiana bumped her backside against the door. “Oh, Thom!”
Grinning, Thom lowered his head, his lips against her ear. “My mouth is full, so I have reason to be quiet. Now you start shouting all those things you said last night.”
He left her bumping at the door, trying to recall exactly what she’d said. Every moment had been seared into her brain, but she’d barely given a thought to most of what had been tumbling out of her mouth.
“Oh, Thom!” Bump. “Thom!” Bump. “Oh, yes, Thom!”
At the porthole, another bolt squealed. Georgiana threw her hips back harder, faster, trying to cover the sound.
“You’re so deep, Thom. Oh! Oh! Don’t slow down. Oh! Harder, now. Thom! I need more! More!”
His back to her, Thom seemed to hunch over. His shoulders were shaking so hard that when he reached for another bolt, his juddering fingers missed it—twice.
Laughing.
Oh, Georgiana always loved to see him do that. Enjoying herself now, she slammed harder and harder. “Thom! Oh! Faster! Don’t stop! I feel it coming!”
And she was running out of things to shout. Remembering last night was no help. Mostly she had just moaned and cried his name.
Desperately, she called up her memories of touching his body afterward, exploring every ridge of muscle—“You’re so hard, Thom!”—running her hands up his thick shaft—“And so big. So long and strong and powerful!”—circling her fingertips around the flared crown—“They should call you the King of the North Sea. Oh, Thom, make me your queen! Oh, oh, Thoooommmmm!”
By the time her wail faded, the glass was out of the porthole frame and her husband had collapsed into the settee with his head in his hands, tears streaming down his face and choking on his laughter. His muffled snorts likely fit quite well into their impromptu bit of theater.
Her face flushed from the exercise, Georgiana joined him. “I must say, Thom—that was quite invigorating.”
Still laughing, he pushed to his feet. Catching her around the waist, he kissed her hard and far too briefly. “I love you, Georgie. Now are you ready?”
No. She wanted to stay here and bask in those words. She’d known he did. Love had never been in question between them—only whether it was enough to overcome all the other hurts.
But even knowing that Thom loved her, it was so sweet to hear him say so. And to say it in return. “Oh, Thom. I love you, too.”
Eyes dark with emotion, he kissed her again. Longer this time. But not as long as Georgiana wished.
Within a few minutes, she was standing at the porthole with the blankets and satchel strapped to her back. Thom had offered to carry them, but had agreed it was more important for him to move as freely as he needed to than to relieve her of a few pounds’ burden.
Gripping the cold frame, she leaned out and looked over. Here at the front of the airship, the prow projected forward over the steep slant of the hull, presenting a sheer hundred-foot drop to the moonlit water below.
Oh, dear God. Her heart thundered against her ribs. This had been so easy to imagine before. Just a simple climb to the weather deck.
Craning her neck, she looked up. With the glass blocking the porthole, she hadn’t been able to stick her head out like this and see exactly what they’d have to climb. But there was almost ten feet of smooth, polished wood between the porthole and the rail on the upper deck—and all of it at that same steep angle.
She pulled her head back in. “I made a mistake, Thom. I don’t think this will work.”
“It will.” Thom was pushing up his sleeves over his forearms, sliding aside small steel panels in his wrists, breaking the illusion of smooth metal skin and revealing the gears and pistons within. “You’ve just got to hang on to me. All right?”
His certainty helped. Though her heart still raced, she nodded.
Moving to the porthole, Thom looked up. He swung his arm. A glint of metal caught the moonlight—a thin cable, she realized. He tugged, seemed satisfied.
He gestured her close. “All right, Georgie. I’ve got this hooked around the bowsprit. We’re going to swing out, and I’m going to pull us up. Once we get up to the rail, I’ll look over, see where the crew is. The bird screen they’ve put across the bow will probably keep us from being seen, but if we’re spotted, I’m going to go up and over right there. But if they don’t see us, you’re going to hang on while I go around the hull and get closer to them. You should take off your gloves for a better grip.”
She stripped them off and shoved them into her coat.
The steel of his palm chilled by the air outside, he cupped her cheek. “Now, listen. If it all goes to hell when I cut that balloon, if you see any hint of fire, you drop into the water before she explodes. Try to straighten your body and hit feet first—your legs will heal. Can you swim?”
“A little.” She couldn’t manage more than a whisper.
“I’ll come for you. I’ll find you.” His head lowered, his kiss a fierce promise. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. After another hard kiss, he moved to the porthole. Gripping the frame at the top, he lifted his body through and sat in the opening with his legs hanging over. Georgiana linked her arms around his shoulders, and buried her face against the back of his neck.
“All right,” she whispered.
He leaned forward, pulling her with him. The front of her legs scraped past the porthole frame, and then they were falling out into nothing, the bowsprit creaking above them and her scream locked behind clenched teeth. They spun, the hull and the moon in a dizzying whirl around them. Desperately, she wrapped her legs around his waist, then a windowed porthole spun into her view—the porthole on the other side of the stateroom, over the settee instead of the table—and she realized that they weren’t falling, but swinging in an arc around the prow like a pendulum.
Before they swung back, Thom began to climb. A soft ratcheting click came from inside his left arm—winding up the slack in the cable. Georgiana clung to him, not daring to close her eyes, too frightened to look anywhere but up. The long bowsprit spar extended like a spear from the point of the bow, and at its base, the heavy iron loop that anchored the balloon’s forward tethers was set into the hull.
“As soon as we reach that anchor, you put your foot on that big loop,” Thom said softly. “Then grab on to those balloon cables or hold on to the spar. You can hide right there for a bit.”
Better than dangling from the rail. Heart thumping wildly, Georgiana watched the anchor loop come closer. Thom slowed, hanging on to the cable with one hand while reaching around behind her with the other. His forearm rotated against her back, his fingers curving around her side as securely as if he’d been holding her from the front.
“I’ve got you, Georgie. Now step on that loop.”
The iron was as thick as her ankle, but even while dangling from a thin cable a hundred feet over the water, the man she clung to seemed more secure. Clenching her teeth against the whimpers building in her chest, she let her leg slide from around his waist and set the toe of her boot on the anchor loop.
“Reach out and grab that spar now.”
Held, but still terrifying to let go. With one arm still clinging to his shoulders, she leaned over. The wooden bowsprit pole was smooth and cold, slippery to her sweating hand. She gripped it tight.
“Pull yourself over, now. I’ve got you.”
It seemed almost impossible to make herself move, then she was over all at once, clinging to the heavy tether cables and looking at Thom.
His dark
gaze swept her from head to toe. “All right?”
As long as she didn’t look down. Chest heaving, she nodded. The rail was just above her head—truly an easy climb now. She would just have to reach up and pull herself over.
Just as Thom did now, lifting himself and glancing over. After lowering himself again, he hung on to the rail with one hand and unhooked his cable from the bowsprit. A grapple dangled from the end. He folded the claws and slipped the contraption into his left biceps.
“There’s just two of them amidships, starboard side,” he said quietly. “Only three lanterns. There’s none at this end, Georgie, so they won’t be coming this way to put one out—and they aren’t likely to see you when you look over.”
And they would be less likely to see him coming. Good. “Be careful, Thom.”
He grinned. “That’s the opposite of what we’re doing, Georgie.”
And then he was gone, silently making his way along the rail. Hardly daring to breathe, Georgiana waited. A cold breeze slipped past her cheeks. The airship swayed slightly, the hull creaking.
A shout rang from the deck.
Heart almost bursting in her chest, Georgiana gripped the rail and hauled herself up to look, feet braced against the cables. The soft glow of the lamps at the opposite end of the deck transformed everything in between into shapes and shadows—two men with pistols extended, but they didn’t dare shoot, not with Thom so close to the balloon. With the moon behind him, he was silhouetted ten feet above the deck, hanging from a portside tether cable by one arm. From his other arm, the point of a long blade pressed against the envelope.
His deep voice carried across the deck. “You’d best put those lanterns out.”
They hesitated, clearly not believing that he would. It was unthinkable to them, too. Without a word, Thom stabbed the blade through the envelope.
Georgiana’s heart stopped. The opposite of careful—but if they didn’t risk everything, they’d lose everything.