Free An Airship Named Desire (Take to the Skies Book 1) by Katherine McIntyre Page A

of a mad scientist.
    “Doc, it’s only a graze. I’ll be walking smooth on this leg in a couple of days, so no need to chain me here much longer.” 
    “Jensen, you’re being too cruel,” Isabella chided. “Edwin’s been a lovely companion down here. Besides, if we have one more player, we’ll have enough to play cribbage next.” Isabella pushed on the knob above her tea press and the filter squashed the fragile leaves to the bottom. Several of the dark black flecks escaped and floated to the top while she poured herself another cup.
    “Why thank you.” Edwin waved a hand toward her. “It’s been a pleasure having you ill. You’ve provided a welcome distraction from my studies.”
    “I’m sure Isabella’s loved being out of commission.” I enjoyed her sour frown and slapped her on the back. She met my gaze with a weary one of her own. “Now Edwin, what has she been keeping you from? More of those potions you made at your shop back in China?”
    “Don’t tell me it’s another meal supplement.” Jensen groaned. I swung a nearby chair over and took a seat around the table.
    “Look,” Edwin said. “Had my one calculation not been off, we would have dined on those supplements for months.”
    Isabella smirked. “Instead we puked for weeks.”
    “I don’t know why I try with any of you ruffians. No appreciation for the finer aspects of experimentation and the sciences.” He sniffed.
    “We appreciate you, Edwin,” I said. “Our digestive systems just don’t remember you fondly.”
    “This is why we need a cook,” Jensen interrupted. “A whole crew and nobody can make a decent meal. Hell, you and Isabella can’t even make sandwiches. What kind of women are you anyway?”
    “Obviously subpar. I mean, what am I doing here?” Sarcasm flowed from my mouth in tomes. “I should be landed and popping out babies, not getting stabbed and shot at thousands of feet above ground.”
    “Is that what your people do?” Isabella lifted one elegant brow. “Mine have always roamed, for centuries. The sky’s our next frontier for travel.”
    “You mean your gypsy clans?” Jensen placed one of his beefy arms onto the table. “I thought you people always stayed in groups.”
    “Usually.” Isabella drank a quick sip of tea and avoided Jensen’s comment. “My people have remained throughout time, past industry, and weathered every war. We’ve never been captured or enslaved. We know no nation, no leader, only governed by an open sky like an eagle at flight.” Her mixed accent of British and French threaded her words with a musical resonance.
    “Here, you want to know more about my people?” She wandered over toward her bags and rummaged through the nearest one. From it she pulled a larger pack of cards sealed in an engraved bronze box under a twisting latch.
    “Not your mumbo-jumbo witchcraft again.” Jensen rolled his eyes and stretched his arms over his head, uninterested in the whole idea before we’d begun.
    She pursed her lips while arching an eyebrow. “It’s called tarot, my dear. It’s a shame not everyone shares your boorish inflections.”
    “I’m from America, haven’t you ever paid attention to stereotypes?”
    “So am I, don’t go looping me in with you, boy-o.” I rested my hand on my hip and gave him the side eye.
    Isabella snorted. “Well, I’ll read your fortunes. A tarot reading from a gypsy woman is the best telling of the art.”
    “Count me out.” Edwin shook his head. “I’m not a fan of the arcane or predictions that can’t be quantified. They don’t follow any projectors, and the hypothetical objectives cast such a wide net they’ll always find some form of emotional manipulation to fit the scheme.”
    “It’s called mysticism, sweetie.” Isabella placed a hand on her hip. “And we’ve been practicing it for years. You can’t put the power behind tarot into a classification box.”
    “How to you explain the conclusions you come to then?” His eyes