Free Her Sky Cowboy by Beth Ciotta Page A

mumbled under her breath.
    “I’ve been called worse, darlin’.”
    Mindful of her bandaged thigh, he lifted her off her feet and up the ladder. To her credit, she didn’t fuss.
    Tuck hit the deck and cursed a primal twitch down south. Even the frigid night air failed to cool his illicit thoughts. She felt good in his arms. Right. Then again, he hadn’t been with a woman in more than three weeks. Maybe any woman would feel right.
    “I feel better already,” Amelia said, breathing deeply.
    “That makes one of us.” He looked for a place to ditch his precious cargo.
    “I’d prefer a view from the bow,” she said as he prepared to set her on a rolled canvas.
    “I’ve got better things to do than tote you around, Flygirl.”
    “Then put me down. I’ll have my say, then make my own way.”
    “You’re just dyin’ to bust open those stitches.”
    “I’ll be careful.”
    “I doubt it.” Irritated, he whisked her forward, ignoring StarMan’s questioning gaze as they moved past the dimly lit cockpit.
    “I don’t know why you’re so cross,” Amelia huffed. “I’m the one who’s been wronged.”
    “How so?”
    “I specifically stated I wanted to be awake and aware, and you had me knocked out.”
    “I call the shots on this boat.”
    “Is that your idea of an apology?”
    “No, darlin’, it ain’t.”
    “That’s another thing. I insist you refrain from such intimacies. Endearments should be reserved for family and sweethearts, neither of which we are.”
    “Next?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “You removed my trousers.”
    “Nothin’ personal,” he lied while settling her on a barrel that allowed her to peer over the gunwale. “Doc needed to bandage that leg proper-like. Don’t worry. Birdman left the room prior to the…unveiling.”
    Her cheeks flushed and she looked away. “I can only hope you were gentleman enough to avert your eyes.”
    “Sorry to disappoint,” he said, donning his own goggles against the strong winds. “I’ve never been one to turn away from a curiosity.”
    She cast him a furtive glance. “You considered my…my bare parts curious?”
    His lip twitched at a hint of insecurity. A new and welcome twist. “Your legs are lovely, Miss Darcy. Your bloomers, what there was of them, are curious. Barely enough fabric to cover your lovely—”
    “That’s quite enough,” she said, cheeks flushed. “And never mind my…”
    “Unmentionables?”
    “Precisely.”
    Her falcon swooped in and settled close by, as if sensing she needed saving—if only from an improper conversation. Tuck watched, mesmerized, as she smoothed delicate fingers over the bird’s feathered head. He’d handled a canary and other such domesticated fowl, but never a falcon. He wanted to cover Amelia’s hand with his own, to join her in stroking the majestic, albeit altered beauty, but he refrained. Her relationship with this falcon was personal. Tuck hesitated to intrude. Not to mention that holding Amelia’s hand would be as inappropriate as discussing her bloomers. Still, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the way she lovingly stroked that bird. He imagined those fingers stroking him and…
    Christ.
    “I know Leo is an oddity,” Amelia said, breaking in on his randy thoughts, “but he is a valiant and good creature. Promise me Mr. O’Donnell won’t hurt him.”
    Her quiet plea spoke to the deepest part of him. “Axel’s more bluster than bite. Except in dire circumstances,” he added. “Leo’s safe.” He’d see to it. Tuck had a long and deep appreciation of birds. As a boy he’d been obsessed with the way they glided through the air. He couldn’t think of anything more thrilling than soaring through the open sky. Even now. However, Leo was a source of fascination for more than his ability to fly. Tuck wondered about his artificial parts. Who had made and applied them? How did theywork? How did metal function with muscle? When the time was right, he’d ask. For the moment Tuck pulled