charlotte finds much to entertain her—an unexpected problem—flying lessons—family jewels—the disappointment of an untroubled childhood—clacton-on-sea—alex is irrational—a lively discussion—the ghost of mischief past
If Charlotte disapproved more of Captain O’Riley’s house, she might be able to talk about it less. But she knew what she was. Alex and Bixby would hear nothing but truth from her. For three hours as they flew east toward Clacton-on-Sea, she blamed them, and lectured them, and they bore it as no other men in England would have borne it: so badly, they considered locking her in the closet, until they remembered what happened last time that was attempted.
She had much to occupy her. The dust. The spiderwebs. The sluggish rate of travel, second only to the sudden dangerous speed. The dust (again). Not enough tea. Bixby remedied the latter, along with a provision of fresh scones, after which there was the pleasure of discovering just what exactly gentlemen pirates considered adequate for a lavatory. Charlotte was able to entertain herself with expressions of horror about that one for quite some time. Eventually Bixby lockedhimselfin the closet and Alex, forced to remain at the helm, decided to offer her a flying lesson.
Charlotte wasdisappointedsurprised to discover this was not a metaphor for something more interesting. She eyed him suspiciously as he demonstrated the various pieces of navigational equipment. “Are you just trying to distract me from suggesting improvements to your home?”
“Not at all,” Alex responded tonelessly.
“Because it is only my intention to be helpful.”
“Of course.”
“If you alphabetized your boxes of loot, you would feel so much—”
“Charlotte?” He smiled at her.
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
She gasped. “Well I nev—”
He caught her by the front of her shirt, pulled her close, and kissed her. And if he felt her triumphant little smirk against his lips, he was wise enough not to say so.
The kiss was pleasant in its own way (i.e., the way of coffee-flavored chocolate melting in one’s mouth, its warmth spreading through one’s body until remaining upright becomes increasingly, but deliciously, difficult). But it failed to convince Charlotte of there being any charm in the pirate’s messiness.
She had to admit, however, that she rather liked the messiness of his charm. After a lifetime of carefully crafted narratives, having someone show her just how delightful unexpectedness could be—sudden kisses, sensuous smiles—proved enlivening. But also rather frightening. How could one prepare a correct response to the unexpected? Charlotte knew that over the past two days she had behaved so unlike Elizabeth Bennet or Anne Elliot as to be almost authentically herself, and that was far too risky to be considered a good thing.
She did not mind exposing her flaws to Alex O’Riley, for he was just a pirate, and as soon as she had her amulet she would undoubtedlynever see him again. And oh dear, Bixby’s scones must have gone down the wrong way, for suddenly she felt an odd heartburn.
The real trouble would come if she got into the bad habit of being herself when she returned to regular society. No one wanted to see a young woman dressed in trousers, or laughing with abandon, orfeelingthings.
The kiss ended finally, and with a mutual sigh they returned their focus to the flight lesson. Alex guided her to stand at the great spoked wheel, and then positioning himself behind her, he set his hands on hers.
“The wheel is a conduit for the magic,” he explained. “There are no mechanics involved. So long as it can be attached in some secure manner to the house, and then moved to provide direction, it does not even strictly speaking have to be a wheel. But convention helps, because the pirate’s state of mind is all-important, and it’s less easy to believe yourself piloting a house by means of a stick or hairbrush or something.”
“If state of mind is all-important—considering most pirates seem to be utterly mad, how do they keep their houses aloft?” Charlotte asked.
“Aren’t you going to add ‘present company excepted’?”
“No.”
He grinned. “Fair enough. To be honest, it depends on the madness. Delusions of grandeur are actually helpful in our trade.”
“What’s this?” She put her hand on a lever protruding from the wheel shaft. Alex hastily pulled it away.
“Careful. That’s my emergency vertical thrust accelerator.”
Before she could make the kind of reply that would horrify even a penny-dreadful heroine, Alex began intoning the phrase to take them out ofmomentum automatica.The house creaked, shifting into his manual control. At once, Charlotte felt magic press her hands more firmly against the wheel. The sensation was uncomfortable, and not inthe way her own magic recently had become, igniting nerves and stroking carnal instincts. Rather, it felt heavy, suffocating. This was indeed what she’d always imagined a bombastic pirate’s magic to be, or perhaps a man’s magic: forceful compared to the fine raveling of witchery.
“Your accent is stronger when you incantate,” she noted.
“Oh?” The word was like a shield. With spikes on it. Bloodstained spikes. But before Charlotte could question why, he went on incantating, low and lilting. He slipped his fingers between hers, back and forth, until her breath was moving in time with it. Gently together they turned the wheel, and the house veered, moving into a pale haze of clouds.
“Can you feel the magic?” he asked between phrases.
“I hope you are talking about the incantation,” she said. “Otherwise, that is a ridiculously lewd question.”
