Dragons & Dirigibles
By Cindy Spencer Pape
Book seven of The Gaslight Chronicles
When airship engineer Melody MacKay’s dirigible explodes and plunges her into the yard of a gothic manor, she suspects foul play. With her ankle injured—an indignity far too feminine for her taste—she resolves to crack the mystery while in the care of Victor Arrington, the stuffy-yet-disarming Earl of Blackwell.
Ex-Royal Navy Captain Victor Arrington runs a tight house and is on a mission to protect his niece and foil a ring of smugglers using fire-breathing metal dragons. He has no time for romantic attachments. Particularly not with women who fall from the sky wearing trousers and pilot’s goggles.
As he and Melody navigate a treachery so deep it threatens the lives of everyone in Black Heath, the earl becomes unexpectedly attached to his fiery houseguest, and Melody discovers a softness in her heart for him. But when the smugglers strike, there’s more at risk than just their future together.
48,000 words
Dear Reader,
If there’s one thing that’s sure to tickle me every time, it’s when I ask for book recommendations via social media, and readers come back to recommend books I’ve edited or published. Most recently, readers have given me recommendations for Saved by the Bride by Fiona Lowe, Wild Ones by Kristine Wyllys and Goddess with a Blade by Lauren Dane. I’m always pleased when this happens and I think our batch of May books will be next on readers’ recommendation lists!
We’re thrilled to welcome fan favorite Josh Lanyon back to Carina Press with Stranger on the Shore. Journalist Griffin Hadley shrugs off lawyer Pierce Mather’s objections to his investigation of a decades-old kidnapping, but it might not be so easy to shrug off the objections of someone willing to do anything to keep the past buried.
Bestselling author Stephanie Tyler returns with another sexy, unique story set not too far into our possible post-apocalyptic future. In Salvation, when Luna leaves Defiance to rescue Bish from a rival gang, she doesn’t realize she’s the one who will end up needing saving—both from the gang and from Bish, the man who can’t wait any longer to claim her and make her his. Though this book can be read as a standalone, be sure to check out both Defiance and Redemption as well!
There’s No Accounting for Cowboys in Leah Braemel’s sexy contemporary cowboy romance. Jake Grady relies on family accountant Paige Reynolds to bring order to his life, when family secrets throw it into chaos. Check out our new reduced-price bundle of Leah’s erotic romance duology, Texas Tangle and Tangled Past, available now.
And speaking of sexy contemporary romance, the only woman Grand Duke Armand ever desired is her, but not every girl dreams of marrying a prince. Anna doesn’t want prince charming, she loved the man behind the crown. Can they overcome their mistakes and reclaim a love neither forgot? Don’t miss this Going Royal book by Heather Long, Some Like It Scandalous.
Tamara Morgan joins us with the start to a new contemporary romance series in If I Stay. In this kickoff to a modern-day Downton Abbey series, the nanny to a rich hotelier family must choose between the hard-edged chauffeur who gets her pulse racing and the profligate playboy she’s loved her whole life.
Another author kicking off a new series is Sheryl Nantus. If you’ve been looking for a unique futuristic romance series to enjoy, In the Black is being described as Firefly meets Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. What’s more unique than a heroine who’s captain of a bordello spaceship?
Male/male author KC Burn also offers up a futuristic romance this month. Falling in love with an alien exotic dancer forces a prejudiced fleet captain to reevaluate who he is and what he believes in Voodoo ’n’ Vice.
May is a month packed full of science fiction, fantasy and futuristic books. Cindy Spencer Pape is back with a new book in her Gaslight Chronicles, Dragons & Dirigibles (I love this title!). Airship engineer Melody MacKay is exactly the kind of emancipated woman Victor Arrington wants to keep away from his impressionable niece—that is, until smugglers start trying to kill the girl. Then Victor turns to Melody for help. If you’re new to the Gaslight Chronicles, you can start the series now with a new, reduced-price bundle of the first three books in the series. Available wherever ebooks are sold.
Author T.D. Wilson returns to Carina Press with book two in his space opera series. In The Epherium Chronicles: Crucible, only one more jump to the new colony in the Cygni star system, but what will Captain James Hood find when he arrives—a thriving colony, dangerous enemies, or will it be in ruins?
We’re pleased to welcome four authors to Carina Press this month. Debut author April Taylor brings us a tale of fantasy and alternate history. In Court of Conspiracy, book one of The Tudor Enigma, ordered by Anne Boleyn to protect her son, can apothecary and elemancer Luke Ballard overcome the evil sunderer who seeks to kill Henry IX at Hampton Court Palace?
Also with a debut novel this month is historical paranormal romance author Kari Edgren. Selah Kilbrid would sacrifice everything for her birthright, except the one kiss that could destroy her in Goddess Born.
For our mystery offering this month, debut author Rosie Claverton brings together an agoraphobic hacker and a streetwise ex-con to hunt down a serial killer in Cardiff. Don’t miss Binary Witness, the first in a new mystery series.
Last, we’re thrilled to have author Vanessa North join us with her new male/male romance High and Tight. Deeply closeted Navy pilot Adam returns home, planning to convince his longtime lover he’s ready to commit at last, only to find Harris has moved on without him.
Coming in June: novels from Lynda Aicher, Ava March, Christi Barth, Dana Marie Bell and more, along with a fabulous male/male contemporary romance anthology from three talented authors.
Here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.
Happy reading!
~Angela James
Executive Editor, Carina Press
Dedication
This one is for Sue Peel, who is always ready to chip in and help others, and who came up with the perfect name for Emma in this story.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to all the usual suspects: my editor, Melissa Johnson; my agent, Evan Gregory; and the entire production team at Carina Press. Also thanks to my family and mostly to my husband, Glenn, for all their care and feeding of the writer.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
Copyright
Chapter One
May 1860
“We’ve got it this time.” Victor Arrington, Earl of Blackwell, handed the brass spyglass to his former first mate. Sunset had just begun to tint the Devon coastline in fiery hues of red and violet, while the soft breeze ruffled the waves to a gentle roar. “That damned crab won’t disappear on us this time.” The steam-belching automated crustacean, roughly the size of a small carriage, scuttled out of the water and into one of the caves on the side of the cliff below their feet.
“Aye. We’ll find that blasted cave opening and root the bastards out.” Though his current title was butler, Barnaby Hatch, with his bushy white whiskers and bald pate, looked more like the old salt he was. Together, the two men drew their pistols and started down the steep path that led to the shore. There were never any men about when the crab appeared, and once on the beach, it seemed to simply vanish. For the past two weeks, it had arrived every two to four days, based on quick glimpses and the tracks it left behind. This time, however, Vi
ctor had stationed four other stout lads—all former crewmembers—at various hidden spots about the beach. As sunset approached, he and his men waited. Today, finally, it appeared, its eight jointed legs clanking as it hauled itself up onto the rocks.
“Hold,” yelled one of the men down on the shore. Victor quickened his steps.
An odd flash, something like lightning, lit the sky from behind them. No thunder followed and the day was clear, so Victor shrugged at Barnaby, a few yards above him on the path.
“Do you hear something up there, Cap’n?” Barnaby asked. Despite being well into his fifties, he still possessed the senses of a cat. “Kind of like a cannonball without the boom.”
Victor paused and listened. There it was, the high whine of a falling object. “Coming from two directions now? Go on, back toward the house.” His men on the beach could capture the crab and find the cave opening. His niece and the rest of the people who depended on him were up at Black Heath Manor. Victor ran up the path, easing past Barnaby, just in time to see something—an airship?—fall from the sky, trailing smoke. With a resounding crash, it landed in the park right in front of his house.
The ground shook and Victor’s ears rang. There’s your boom, he wanted to say but didn’t spare the breath. He shot a glance back to see that Barnaby was still on his feet and then scrambled over the heath toward the house, sprinting once he hit the smooth grass of the lawn.
Where the bloody hell had the smugglers gotten a dirigible?
Flames licked the wooden timbers of the craft’s gondola, though the gray canvas holding the gas still hung suspended about five feet above the ground. The pilot—it looked too small to have more than one or two men aboard—crawled free, struggled to his knees and pulled off goggles and a gas mask to cough on the lawn. Right behind him came the biggest damn dog Victor had ever seen, wearing an intriguing set of well-fitted goggles. It licked the man’s face before turning to bark at Victor, who was first to reach the aircraft, even though now servants had started to spill out the manor’s front door and around the house from the stables.
“Get buckets of water, quickly,” Victor shouted to the stablemaster. He reached the pilot, a slightly built man no more than five feet tall—practically a youth. “Are you injured?” It would be easier to extract information from a captive who was still breathing.
The pilot shook his head and put a hand on the dog’s neck. “I don’t think so. Down, Birch. Friend.” His voice was soft, adding to the impression of youth, though it was rough and husky from the smoke. Victor mentally cursed the bastards for recruiting someone so young to their dangerous business. The lad should be in school, not bringing in tax-free brandy and lace.
The dog—it was too slender to be a bear—whined, glared at Victor and bared its teeth before reluctantly dropping to its haunches beside its master, just as the stable hands each ran up with a bucket of water and doused the flames.
“What gas is in there and how flammable is it?” Victor didn’t know a lot about dirigibles, but he knew they were dangerous.
“A rare gas called helium. It shouldn’t explode.” The pilot drew in a deep breath, tried to stand and fell back to the ground, this time flat on his backside. “Oh, bugger.”
Victor braved the dog to step closer and hold out a hand. “What’s wrong?” This chap was just friendly enough to be a useful source of information.
The boy—up close, he looked even younger, with no hint of beard or even an Adam’s apple—sighed and rotated his left boot in front of him. “Ankle. Not broken, but it doesn’t want to hold weight.” A thin note of pain threaded through the husky tones. He took Victor’s hand, murmuring reassurances to the monstrous canine.
“Thanks.” He leaned on Victor, hopping on one foot away from the smoldering debris. “Can someone make sure all the flames are out and throw a blanket or tarpaulin over the ship? I’ll need to take it apart to see what went wrong, but not until everything cools down and I’ve got this leg strapped up.”
Victor looked over at the house, not surprised to see Emma, along with every servant in the place, watching from the front portico. “Back inside, everyone. Don’t you have work to do? Mrs. Cranston, shouldn’t Lady Emma be in the nursery? Barnaby, you check on the men and send someone down to the village for the doctor.” That last was largely for Emma’s benefit, he told himself. While he didn’t really give a damn about the health of a felon, he didn’t want to seem an ogre in front of his impressionable young niece. He turned to his stablemaster, a man who’d been here since Victor was a boy. “Keep an eye on the wreckage. Make sure all the flames are extinguished. Nobody touches it until I return. Understood? Mrs. Ritchie, a room, please?” He turned toward the house, bearing most of the pilot’s weight.
The housekeeper nodded and shepherded the gawking maids and footmen back into the house—though they weren’t supposed to use the front door. Victor didn’t have it in him to scold about that detail. Every time he took a step, a soft moan of pain escaped from the man beside him.
Victor stopped. “I know this will hurt your dignity, but it would be easier on both of us.” He lifted the other man in his arms. The leather aviation helmet slipped off and fell to the ground and a long dark braid tumbled out from underneath. “What the—” He bit back his remark. That verified what Victor’s other senses were now telling him, based on the slim curves he could feel through the baggy coverall and the whiff of jasmine perfume. A woman. Of course.
Muffling a vicious string of curses, Victor did the only thing his upbringing would allow. He snapped, “Come along, then,” to her hell hound and stalked into his home.
* * *
Melody MacKay wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand as the autocratic Englishman carried her into the big, gloomy manor house, isolated out on the moors. She’d seen it from the air before her boiler had blown, and thought even then that it belonged in a gothic novel, with its dark, heavy timbers and overhanging many-gabled slate roof. The owner—for he couldn’t be anyone less—matched perfectly, big and loud, with his craggy face seemingly set in a permanent glower. If she wasn’t so angry about the failure of her new engine design, she would be entertained by her surroundings and her rescuer.
“Thank you for the assistance,” she muttered into his coat as he carried her up a broad staircase. He smelled of horse and strong soap, tinged with lime. Her Scottish deerhound, Birch, walked watchfully beside them up the steps, still wearing his own goggles. She watched him as best she could but didn’t see any indication that he’d been injured.
“Aye.” His voice was deep and resonant. “You’re welcome. Whatever possessed you to do such an idiotic thing as try to fly that contraption single-handedly? You’re just a girl. You could have been killed.”
She managed not to growl. “I’ll have you know, I developed that ‘contraption’ single-handedly. I’ve also flown it on every single test voyage and there have been several. Something went wrong with the boiler and the generator today. It could have happened to any pilot.” It was hard to sound arch and dignified when someone was carrying you like a sleepy toddler. Worse, she felt like one. Her ankle throbbed, and now that the fear-induced energy spike from the crash was beginning to ebb, her eyelids felt heavy. She knew she was in shock, recognized the symptoms. Being an airship engineer and pilot, this wasn’t her first injury, not even her first crash. Likely it wouldn’t be her last.
“Well, someone ought to have stopped you.” He paused in front of a door on the second floor and a female servant hastened to open it. “That sort of thing is no fit hobby for a woman.”
Melody opened her mouth to argue that she was a qualified professional, but it felt like too much trouble, so she just ignored him.
“My lord, shall I take that beast down to the stables?” Another servant, this one male, had evidently followed them. “The two men checking the beach for erm...driftwood came back empty-handed. One of the lads has gone for the doctor.”
Birch growled.
&nb
sp; “Better let him stay with me.” Melody heard her voice begin to slur. “He can get a touch difficult if he thinks I’m in trouble.” She tried to laugh at her own understatement but couldn’t quite get her lungs to work. “Better get my boot off before it swells.”
“Might be too late, miss.” As his master laid her on a big curtained bed, the male servant bent over her feet. “Still, might as well give it a go. These boots are too fine to cut if we don’t need to.”
“Do you have a name, madam?” The master loomed over Melody’s head. “We’re not on the telephone, but I can send someone to the inn in the village to contact your family.”
“MacKay.” She swallowed, willing herself to stay awake just a little longer. “Melody MacKay. Papers are in the aircraft, if they didn’t burn up. You can contact my superior, Lord Lake, at Trowbridge House, London.” Better he contacted her employer than her parents. Although most of the Order of the Round Table were close family friends, there wouldn’t be quite as much panic from Kendall, Marquess Lake, head of the London office, as there would be from her father, Sir Fergus MacKay, who managed the Order’s headquarters in Edinburgh.
“How is this Lord Lake involved with smugglers here on the Devonshire coast?” Her rescuer—or tormentor, she wasn’t sure which—seemed to know she was not quite up to prevarication at the moment and chose to press for something.
“Not. Works for the Crown.” That was as much truth as she was allowed to give. Although the Order was legendary in Britain, very few people knew that it continued to exist, still fighting supernatural and other threats to crown and country. Melody’s brother, father and grandfather were Knights. She was a mere employee but was proud even of that.
“Best let her rest now, my lord.” The older man had eased off her boots with only moderate pain while she’d spoken with his employer. “Mrs. Ritchie can help her get out of those clothes. Right, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course.” The housekeeper sounded none too thrilled about the prospect. “Perhaps your, ummm, pet can wait in the dressing room?” She cast a fearful glance at Birch, who sat sentinel beside the bed, between Melody and the strangers.
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