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.