Salvage

by Meljean Brook

  Her eyes met his for a long minute before she stepped closer to his chair. Her hand lifted to his face. Just a gentle touch, her fingertips sliding over his bearded jaw, but need slapped him hard, turning his body into one thick ache. Hanging at his sides, his hands clenched to fists. He wouldn’t grab her, haul her onto his lap. He wouldn’t take her sweet mouth with his.

  But smoking hells, he wanted to. And Georgiana had to see it. Her gaze was arrested on his face, her lips parting. Her fingers had stilled on his jaw, then her focus dropped and he felt the light brush of her thumb against the corner of his mouth.

  “Georgie,” he said roughly.

  Her eyes closed. With a sigh, she turned her face away, her gaze sliding around the stateroom. “We need to search this cabin,” she said. “Maybe we’ll find something to aid in our escape.”

  Always practical, his Georgie. And she was right. He nodded against her hand.

  “Let’s look, then.”

  FOUR

  The search needed to be done, but it was also a mindless task, and Georgiana desperately needed the time to think on everything that Thom had told her.

  Her husband was such a good man. A far more fascinating man than she’d realized. And knowing why he’d stayed away left Georgiana ashamed and angry at herself now.

  She had asked him to hold her in his arms every night. Of course, she hadn’t meant it so literally—and the important part hadn’t been his arms, but that he would be there every night.

  She’d been so thoughtless. Cruelly and selfishly so. Why had she never imagined how such words might sound to a man whose arms had been replaced with iron? And she’d never explained what she’d meant, or why it mattered, so that he wouldn’t mistake her meaning. She hadn’t told him of her mother. Why had she assumed that he would know exactly what she’d wanted? As if it had been his responsibility to perfectly interpret her every thought and desire.

  Oh, and this was the very worst time to think about whose fault it was that her marriage had fallen apart. What did any of it matter if they didn’t survive this? She had to be clever and focus on their escape, not think of the past.

  She had to be clever. Even a few days ago, Georgiana would have said she was. Also sensible and intelligent. Her lack of understanding of the man she’d married dealt a shattering blow to that belief. Her gaze had been so limited and narrow. Searching the horizon for his ship, but never seeing anything but herself.

  With a heavy sigh, she pulled open the final drawer in the writing desk. Nothing there. Either wealthy people didn’t keep anything that could be used as a weapon in their staterooms, or this cabin had already been cleared out.

  Holding the mattress angled up with one hand, Thom turned away from his examination of the bed frame. “Nothing?”

  “No. If I were more clever, I would know how to make an escape balloon with the lamp and the skirts cut from my dresses. I’d sew them together and we’d fly off.”

  “I’ll be glad to take a ride under your skirts, Georgie.”

  “Thom!” So outrageous. And wonderful. She blushed and laughed, shaking her head.

  His response was a grin that she felt down to her toes. A man of few words, but he didn’t need many. He could lift her from sorrow and shame with the widening of his mouth and a laughing flash of his teeth.

  Why had he never teased her in such a bold way before? Was this new—or another part of him that he’d hidden? Wherever it stemmed from, she hoped he would continue. Forever, if possible. But forever could only happen if they escaped.

  And after they did, Georgiana was determined to win her husband back.

  If she could. He’d wanted to stay—but he’d intended to leave her, anyway. He’d thought himself a failure as a husband. That hadn’t changed. He probably still intended to leave; and maybe he would. But whether he stayed or left, Georgiana would do everything she could to prove that he hadn’t failed at anything.

  Thom let the mattress flop back to the frame. “There’s nothing here, either. But looking at you, I don’t doubt we’ll figure out something.”

  Her determination must have been apparent on her face. As well it should. She was determined to get through this.

  Her gaze fell to his arms. Thom and she weren’t completely without weapons. And Thom wore gloves, sleeves. Lord Pinchpenny probably knew of the prosthetics, but he likely didn’t know that they weren’t the typical skeletal sort, or what was hidden beneath.

  Even she didn’t completely know. “But you have a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “What else?”

  “Anything I might need underwater or hauling sail alone. A diving knife. Cables. Grapples. Clamps.”

  All useful, but Georgiana’s mind couldn’t work past the initial part. “Hauling sail alone? What of your crew?”

  Not a large crew. Just two other men. If their trip into town had gone as planned, Thom would have given their names to the magistrate, listing them lost at sea—though they might both still be on Oriana. A pirate would kill a captain, but he needed someone to sail a stolen ship.

  Thom shook his head. “About two years ago, I rigged her so that I could handle her alone. With no crew to pay, I could send more of my earnings to you.”

  And he’d thought that amount wasn’t a lot, but it must have cost him so much more than the money he’d sent. The past two years, as alone on his boat as she’d been at home—but sailing and diving were far more dangerous. Anything could have happened to him and there’d have been no one to help.

  Her heart twisted. She could have changed that. She’d sent out messages to Thom when her mother and father had died. Not knowing where he was, she’d sent them to towns and harbors where she knew he’d been. But when he hadn’t replied, she hadn’t tried again.

  She could have. A few more messages, a few months later. Eventually, he’d have received one. But she’d been so angry and stubborn and hurt.

  Thoughtless and cruel. Angry and stubborn. Georgiana was not liking this new view of herself at all. He had not been a failure of a husband, but she might have been a failure as a wife. And she understood why, feeling this way, he’d want to leave. Because now Georgiana wasn’t certain that she deserved to keep a man like Thom, either.

  But she had to try. And also try to be something that she’d thought she was: just a little bit clever. Because she wouldn’t lose him again. Not like this.

  The vibrations under her feet changed subtly, the thrum of the engine deepening. Frowning, Thom crossed the cabin.

  “We’re slowing,” he said.

  She joined him at the porthole, looking out. Only water. No ships. “We’re going to need a boat when we escape,” she said. “He said that you’d be able to retrieve your belongings. I’d hoped that meant wherever we were going, we’d see Oriana there.”

  “I did, too.”

  They both turned at the knock. This time, the door didn’t open until Thom answered it. Blade stood in the passageway. Not leering now. Perhaps he wasn’t brave enough to do it in front of her husband, just as he’d only prodded Thom in the back behind the safety of a loaded gun. If so, he was the worst kind of coward—a mean one.

  “His majesty says to come on up. But the missus stays here.”

  Thom glanced back at her. Georgiana nodded.

  “I’ll be fine. You’d best find out what he wants.”

  * * *

  A cold wind scraped across the upper deck, whistling past the cables tethering the balloon overhead. Coming off the ladder, Thom turned up the collar of his wool coat. Blade pointed him to the starboard side, where the nobby gent stood, looking down at the water. Thom started across, his gaze sweeping the deck. Near the stern, two clinker-built cutters hung on pulleys beneath the balloon. Lifeboats, capable of holding twenty. Thom only needed to seat two.

  He looked south, squinting away the tears the wind whipped from his eyes. No land on the horizon.

  Bundled in a thick scarf and wearing goggles, his nose red from cold, the nobby g
ent glanced up when Thom reached the side. “There you are. Have you settled in comfortably, then?”

  Comfortable? What the hell did that matter? “What do you want with me?”

  With a sudden grin, the bastard nodded. “You’re a direct man. I trust that I can be as well.”

  He already had been. “There’s nothing more direct than a bullet.”

  “I suppose not. But I should have taken a few moments before pulling the trigger to ask where you’d hidden the chest. I assumed—falsely, as it turns out—that I would have an opportunity to search your ship and find it. But at the time, I was more concerned with sailing your ship away from the coast, where it might be recognized.” He sighed and looked down at the water again, and Thom saw a round buoy rolling on the swells. “My men didn’t know how to handle your rigging. She capsized and went under right here.”

  He’d stolen Oriana, only to sink her the next day? Thom’s hearty laugh rang across the deck.

  “I’m not insensible of the irony, Mr. Thomas,” the bastard said, still smiling. He paused. Behind the clear lenses of his goggles, his eyes narrowed. “No. It’s not Mister Thomas, is it? Just Thomas. No one in the Horde’s laboring classes knew their family names.”

  They didn’t know any family, either. “We didn’t.”

  “Your single name is refreshing, in truth. So many of the others take such ridiculous names. Strongarm. Screwmaster. Blade.” His lip curled. “Longcock.”

  “I think they’ve earned the right to call themselves whatever they damn well please.”

  “Perhaps they did, at that.” He regarded Thom thoughtfully. “Your wife took your name as hers. How did you earn that, I wonder? An infected man with no education, no history, no family. No arms.”

  “I have two right here.” He’d always had arms. They just hadn’t always been made of flesh and bone.

  “Arms that the Horde gave you? I’ve seen their like.”

  No, he hadn’t. But Thom didn’t bother with an answer.

  The gent smiled faintly, as if amused by Thom’s silence. “You haven’t asked me who I am.”

  Because it didn’t matter. “You’re the man who’s holding my wife hostage in exchange for gold. That’s all I need to know.”

  Being shot, losing Oriana—Thom could let those go. Not the threat to Georgiana.

  “Fair enough. Especially as the name I’ll have will depend on those coins.” All trace of amusement fled his face. “And all that I need to know of you? You’re a man who can haul and dive. I want those coins back. You’re going to get them for me.”

  And so now Thom knew something else about the nobby bastard. This man would look at him and his arms and anyone else who’d lived under the Horde, and think they were all lower than shit. But he’d use them, anyway, if they served his purpose.

  So Thom was back to being under someone’s boot. But he wouldn’t be working for nothing. This would be for Georgiana’s life.

  And it might take his own life. His gaze scanned the horizon again. No telling how far out they were. But it was farther out than he usually dove. “Did you plumb the depth?”

  “Sixty-five fathoms.”

  “Impossible,” Thom said flatly. That was almost four hundred feet.

  “Not for you. The infected are less prone to the divers’ disease.”

  “But not immune to it, and there’s more than that to worry about. Any deeper than a hundred, and even men with bugs can black out, like they’re swimming drunk. I’ve felt a bit of that myself. What you’re asking is a hundred feet farther than I’ve ever gone, and that was deeper than I should have.”

  “Deeper than you should have, yet you’re alive now. So you could have gone deeper.” The bastard stepped back, his hand dropping to the pistol tucked into his belt. “I will keep it simple for you, Big Thom. Dive for the gold, or you’ll watch me put a bullet in your wife’s head. Then I’ll put one in yours.”

  Rage swallowed any response Thom could have made. Only sheer will kept him in place—and fear of what would happen to Georgiana if he ripped this bastard apart where he stood. The Winch woman had been standing guard outside the stateroom door when he’d left. If Thom did anything here, he wouldn’t be able to get back to Georgiana in time to save her.

  “Return to your cabin now. Talk to your wife. Sleep on your decision, if you must. But at sunrise, you’re going into the water. Your only choice is whether you’ll be dead or alive, and whether your wife goes with you.”

  There was no decision to make. Georgiana was right: some chance was better than none. And if his submersible was still bolted to Oriana’s deck, maybe their chances would be better yet.

  “I’ll dive,” he said. “So let me see the equipment you’ve got.”

  * * *

  Georgiana attempted to remain calm while Thom was gone, but she ended up pacing the floor until he returned. She didn’t wait for him to close the door before asking, “What does he want you to do?”

  “Dive.”

  She’d already guessed that. “Dive for what?”

  “Oriana.”

  His ship? Georgiana stared at him, expecting him to tell her it was a joke. But it was even funnier if true—and his grin told her that it was. She burst into laughter, shaking her head.

  He unbuckled his coat, glanced around the stateroom. “I told them to bring me the suit and hose so that I can look them over. They’ll be coming with those and a tub.”

  To make certain everything was watertight. “How deep is the wreck?”

  “One hundred feet.”

  Deep, though not horrifyingly so. And still dangerous. Most wrecks went down in the shallows, where giant eels and young sharks and sharp rocks threatened to tear into a man or into his air hose. The dangers of the open sea were not worse or better. Just different.

  And now she watched Thom’s gaze slide away from her face, as if there were something he meant to conceal. But she could imagine what it was. “Did he threaten to kill me if you didn’t go down?”

  His gaze snapped back to hers. “Yes. But I’ll kill him before he touches you.”

  “I know.” That had never been in question. Knowing that he was diving for Oriana, however, raised another one. “Was your submersible aboard? Is there room enough for two?”

  “Yes. And I was thinking the same.” Striding to the wardrobe, he hung his coat on a hook and dragged off his hat. His short hair stuck up every which way. He ran his gloved palm over his head once, as if to smooth down the strands. It didn’t help.

  Well, she would not help him. Georgiana rather liked this wild look. “Do you think it’s a better option than a boat?”

  “I do.”

  “What of the megalodons? Sound will carry better through a metal hull. It might attract their attention.”

  “She runs quiet. Just the propellers and whatever noise we make. But either way is a risk, boat or submersible. We have to decide which we like better.” His expression grave, he stopped close, looking down at her. “If we took a boat, it wouldn’t be anything for this airship to come after us. They’d spot us on the water and that would be the end of it. But if we’re under the surface, we’d be out of their sight.”

  So they would have to weigh the uncertain chance of attack from an enormous shark against the certainty of being caught again. Georgiana knew which risk she’d rather take. “What of the air? Without another vessel, we couldn’t use a pump or hose.”

  “We’d come up when we needed it, open the top hatch to let in the fresh air. Then go down again before they could catch up to us. It wouldn’t take long before they’d lost us completely.”

  Georgiana nodded. “How will you bring it up from Oriana?”

  “I wouldn’t have to. If she’s still full of air, she’ll pop up to the surface as soon as I release the bolts. The question would be when to dive for her.”

  So that they could avoid anyone on the airship knowing they had a mode of escape. It would have to be at night—but that would make seeing anythin
g underwater almost impossible.

  A sharp knock sounded at the door. The equipment had arrived. They would have to discuss this more later.

  For now, her only task would be to assist him in checking and rechecking every seal and valve, and every inch of that hose. Lord Pinchpenny would use a threat against her to make Thom go down. She would help make certain that he came back up alive.

  FIVE

  Lord Pinchpenny threatened their lives . . . then sent Mrs. Winch to invite them to dinner in his cabin.

  Georgiana debated whether to refuse, and saw the same struggle in Thom. But in the end, refusal didn’t seem worth the risk, and she told Mrs. Winch that they would join him as soon as they’d washed up. With a sigh, she rose from her kneeling position beside the tub, where she and Thom had just rolled up their sleeves and begun running the long coil of air hose through the water to check for leaking bubbles.

  With shorter sleeves and a bit of lace at the scooped neckline, her pink cotton dress seemed most suitable for dinner, but she wouldn’t wear it for Lord Pinchpenny’s sake. She only wanted to please Thom—and she changed into the dress to please Thom, too, though she wasn’t quite bold enough to face him after she unfastened the blue wool and stood in front of the wardrobe, clothed only in her chemise and stockings. Her cheeks felt as pink as her dress when she tugged everything into place, but the burning in his eyes when she turned around was worth every moment of embarrassment.

  He must have watched her the entire time. When she’d left him by the tub, he’d been rolling down the right sleeve of his linen shirt. Though several minutes had passed, the left sleeve was still bunched up over his steel elbow.

  She glanced at his hands. “You’d best finish covering those.”

  The sound he made in response might have been a yes but emerged more like a primitive grunt.

  Smiling, she moved to the mirror and began repinning her hair. In the reflection, she watched him pull on his woven gansey, followed by the gloves. Oh, but he was such a handsome, incredible man. Every part of her felt more alive when he was near.