Free Under Her Brass Corset by Brenda Williamson Page B

spitting and sputtering apparatus. “What if it stops working? Do we fall from the sky?” Her life looked bleak, but she had no wish to die because of her foolish quest for a fortune.
    “Like a rock,” he answered seriously.
    At her uncontrolled small squeak, he grabbed her hands and held them tight to his chest. Amusement finally emerged from the depths of his blue eyes.
    “A small jest,” he said, giving her a contrite smile.
    “That wasn’t funny. Not amusing in the least.”
    “I know, and I apologize. Forgive me?”
    She nodded, not having the energy to be angry. A light-headed happiness also got in the way, and she blamed it on the liquor. After the amount she drank the night before, she should have known her body would not tolerate more in such a short time.
    “The shape of the sails will hold us up,” he explained. “Now come, let me show you more of how it works.”
    Something in his attitude had changed the moment she stopped treating him as a villain. His behavior became animated, his voice energetic. A boy with his toys, she thought.
    He steered her to the ladder, and she waited while he went down several rungs and then jumped to the main deck. She started to descend backward. When she was halfway down, he grabbed her by the waist, lifted her off and lowered her to the deck as if she weighed no more than a feather. If that weren’t enough, he took her hand and hurried her across the length of the ship to the stern.
    “See the steam?” In his exuberance, he squeezed her hand and continued holding it. “That’s modernization before your very eyes. Below is the boiler room. There is a furnace with a tank attached. It heats the water inside and turns it into steam. From there a series of things happen to condense the steam and vary the pressure within the engine. Then a cylinder housing a piston releases a condensed stream of the steam. Combined with the atmospheric pressure, the lever moves the piston up and down and turns the gears above, below and in so many directions, it’d be hard to list all the ways in which I use the harnessed power. You’ll just learn them over time.”
    The captain’s face beamed with pride. His infectious smile spun her thoughts away from her sickness and sheer delight bubbled inside her. She tore her gaze from his profile to look over the side with him. Cloudy puffs of white moisture spurted from holes in the wall of the hull.
    “It’s magnificent,” she sighed. “You’re a genius.”
    There was no other way to describe his success. Nor did she want to explain why she let him keep holding her hand. All her distrust in him shifted into the least of her worries. Filled with a desire greater than she had ever experienced, she sought to indulge herself.
    He released her hand, and she placed her palms on the front of his chest. She fondled the buckles on his shirt and curled her fingers beneath two. Seeking his mouth, she tugged his tall frame down to her.
    “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known, Captain Blackthorn—creative beyond expectation. You fascinate me.”
    “Is that so?” His breath came closer, heating her lips.
    He cupped the side of her face, and she nestled her cheek into his caress. She had deeply regretted backing from the kiss they’d shared at her house. It was a mistake she wanted to rectify. This was her second chance. She pulled on him with resolve, ignoring his slight resistance.
    “Yes,” she murmured, longing to know what it would feel like to be loved by him. “Yes, very much so.”
    Jasper brushed a kiss against Abigail’s puckered lips. Her pleased hum drew him back for a longer kiss. He felt her right hand slide higher on his chest above his heart. A slight pressure of her fingertips made his skin bristle with goose bumps. Then her touch traveled over his shoulder and glided behind his head.
    Life was hard enough before he had approached her on the street—before he had felt the sweetness of her kiss. After leaving her asleep in