Free Her Sky Cowboy by Beth Ciotta

Watching her suffer in unnecessary pain hadn’t been easy.
    “Much obliged,” Doc had said, then attacked his work with steadier hands.
    That had been hours ago. Presently, Amelia was sleeping in Tuck’s cabin. In his bed. He tried not to dwell on that. Or the vision of her fine bare legs as he’d peeled off those trousers so that Doc could dress the wound. Ridding her of that corset had almost robbed him of his good sense and manner. She’d been clad only in that low-cut blouse and those brief bloomers. All that skin. The lean curve of her thighs and calves. The generous swell of her breasts. Distraction be damned—Amelia Darcy was fast becoming an obsession.
    “She’ll rally, right, Doc?” Eli asked.
    “She’ll rally.”
    Tuck agreed, but again held silent. He didn’t want to talk or think about Amelia Darcy. Superstition had nothing to do with it. His gut warned of a large dollop of trouble,and his gut was always right. The one time he’d chosen to ignore it had cost him dearly. Family. Home. Reputation.
    “Here’s a question for you,” Axel said. “You said Miss Darcy needs to get to Italy on account of a dyin’ granddad. According to that article reporting her pa’s accident, that girl has two older brothers.” He raised a suspicious brow. “Why ain’t they travelin’ with her?”
    “Inexcusable,” Eli said in between bites. “Don’t they care about seein’ their dyin’ kin and protecting their sister from scalawags?”
    Axel shook his head. “Wouldn’t leave my little sister to fend for herself. No way, no how.”
    Tuck didn’t react. Not visibly. But everyone else around the galley table did. Forks and mugs stilled midmouth. No one spoke. No one moved. Tuck needed air and he needed it now. The legs of his chair scraped across the wooden floor, breaking the silence. “Time for me to relieve StarMan.”
    “Oh, hell. Damn, Marshal, I didn’t mean—”
    He cut off Axel with a raised hand. “I know.”
    “Nice going,” Eli muttered under his breath.
    Axel cleared his throat, then stood. “Guess I should be getting back to work, too. Turbine’s been acting up. Thanks for the hot stew, Doc. Real treat.”
    “Sure.” Doc stood and reached out as Tuck passed, then thought better of it. “Barely touched your food, Marshal.”
    “No reflection on the cook.”
    “Fruit and nut scones for dessert. Picked them up yesterday—”
    “Maybe later.” Tuck pulled on his overcoat and left the cramped and stifling galley, striving to keep his stride measured and calm. Typically he took his evening meal at the table in his cabin, a time of solace as he read through literature and periodicals of interest, but since Amelia was sleeping there…
    He was nearing the ladder leading topside when he spied her: hobbling along at a slug’s pace, shoulder againstthe wall for stability. She looked vulnerable and beautiful and two seconds from falling on her pretty face. He wanted to thrash and ravage her at the same time.
    “What are you doing?” he asked, bolstering Amelia by the shoulders.
    “Looking for you.”
    “To give me hell, no doubt. Something you can do in my cabin.” He frowned when she stiffened under his touch. Obstinate as a mule.
    “I do not wish to return to the cabin. I need fresh air.” She felled him with those intense blue eyes. “And an explanation.”
    Well, hell.
    At least she’d had the presence of mind to pull on her duster, covering the skin that tempted good men to do wrong. “Icy and windy on deck,” he said, intimating that the duster alone was insufficient against the elements. Hoping she’d reconsider instead of risking her already compromised health.
    She produced her fur-trimmed goggles and a black felt disk that, when popped, expanded into a worn top hat. Smirking, she pulled them on.
    Tuck challenged her sass with a raised brow and a stipulation. “Only if I carry you.”
    “I don’t—”
    “Back to the cabin then.”
    “Insufferable sod,” she