Tethered (Novella) - By Meljean Brook Page 0,4
flushed cheek and spun away. Nearby, a stout washerwoman with red hands and sleeves rolled to her elbows was watching, smiling. Archimedes started for her. She winked and met him with a saucy toss of her hips. God love bold women. Laughing, he promenaded with her past a group of hooting sailors. He left the washerwoman with a flourish, then picked a little girl in threadbare skirts, her eyes wide and fingers sticky, dancing a wide circle before returning her to a beaming mother. A burly stevedore was next, gamely allowing Archimedes to twirl him around a huffing steamcoach, though with his steel prosthetic arms and hydraulic shoulders, he could have tossed Archimedes over it. As it was, when the stevedore saw a pretty partner more to his liking, Archimedes found himself spun directly into the path of a matriarch wearing velvet gloves and a fashionable lace ruff, and whose protest only lasted until the shouts of encouragement around them spurred her into Archimedes’ arms. Light and quick, her first step was a challenge that he almost failed to meet. The haughty lift of her brow delighted him, and he attempted to lead her on a merry chase, only to find she outstepped him on every turn. His deep bow conceded defeat; she nodded, her mouth disapproving, her eyes sparkling. He winked and turned, spotting a gray-haired woman in traveling clothes sitting atop a trunk, her face lined and weary. With only a bit of encouragement, he pulled her up on top of the trunk and into a jig. She hiked her skirts, exposing a brilliant pair of red stockings. The laughter and the clapping began in earnest then, boots pounding a rhythm on the boards. A jaunty accordion started up somewhere—a street musician would likely be earning a few more coins that day. Exhilarated, Archimedes led them into faster clapping, louder stomping. The docks were always noisy, but this sort of commotion wouldn’t go unnoticed above.
Nor did it. Archimedes looked up toward Lady Nergüi as he leapt off the trunk, and caught a glimpse of Yasmeen’s blue kerchief, her dark braids, her grin.
Perfect.
Dizzy and out of breath, he reached Lady Nergüi’s docking station. An Amazon in a sharply tailored jacket and trousers waited beside the cargo lift, her black hair cut short and exposing a neck like an Egyptian queen’s. His final partner, then—but as he spun toward her, her look of absolute horror made him pause. When her gaze flicked upward, he understood.
He stopped and held out his hand in invitation, his grin wide. “So you are not a mythical Amazon, but Adèle Vashon, our new quartermaster?”
She looked to him, to the crowd behind him—which had been shouting encouragement all the while—then up to the airship again. A hint of panic had widened her brown eyes. “Yes.”
“Your new captain watches,” he said, his hand still extended. “Do you dance like a fool, or snub her husband?”
The Amazon closed her eyes. “I snub you.”
“Good choice. My life would be nothing if she caught me with my arms around another woman.” He heard the rasp of a rope overhead, and his racing heart skipped in anticipation. The laughter and clapping around them quieted. “And here she comes now.”
And what a woman. Lithe, strong, Yasmeen slid down the rope as easily as a dancing man took a step. Like the quartermaster, she wore a short aviator’s jacket, but had brightened the dour blue wool with a crimson sash that cinched her waist. Cold steel glinted at her thighs, where her daggers were tucked into the tops of her tall leather boots. With barely a flex of her hand, she stopped ten feet above the boards.
She looked down at the quartermaster. “You are welcome aboard, Mademoiselle Vashon. Strike the chains when you’re ready, and they’ll start the lift. I’ll meet with you in my cabin as soon as I’ve gone back up.”
“Yes, Captain Corsair.”
“Captain Fox,” she corrected. Her gaze fixed on Archimedes, and he saw no limit to the warmth there. Slowly, with her thighs clenched on the rope, she turned upside down—her cat-green eyes even with his, her hair hanging in a thick curtain. Her voice softened. “And after creating such a spectacle, what do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Fox?”
He placed his hand over his heart and sank to one knee. “I’ve come to ask you to marry me, my gentle captain.”
Laughter lit her expression, and was matched by the sound in the crowd. “My current husband might