High above the Atlantic Ocean
July 1897
"What are you doing?"
Finley Jayne smiled in the darkness. She should have known Griffin would come looking for her. Gripping the slender prow with both hands, she glanced over her shoulder and saw him standing just inside the dirigible's softly lighted observation deck. The wind blew strands of hair into her face. "Finding out how it feels to fly," she replied.
"You're over three thousand feet in the air." His gravelly voice carried over the sound of the airship's engines. "Flying might prove fatal."
Finley laughed. That was his way of scolding her for having ignored the signs that warned passengers not to climb out the windows or over the protective railings. Griffin King was the Duke of Greythorne, and sometimes he carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. That he was worried about her was...sweet.
"We're going to be landing soon," he called, trying another tactic. "Why don't you come in and make sure you have all your things?"
"I'm packed and ready," she called back. "Why don't you come out here and see how beautiful New York City is at night?"
She didn't expect him to take her up on the dare. It wasn't that he was a coward--he was anything but. However, as a duke and an only child, it would be irresponsible of him to risk his life for no reason but a pretty view, just because she asked. No, Griffin wouldn't be so foolish, but Jack would.
Finley pushed the thought of the notorious criminal Jack Dandy from her mind. Jack was in London, and it wasn't fair of her to compare Griffin to him when neither of the young men had an equal.
There was a faint noise behind her, and the next thing she knew, Griffin was there, sitting with her on this narrow shaft. All that was below them was the ship's figurehead--a robust blonde woman of dubious virtue carved from wood--and thousands of miles of night.
"What are you doing?" Finley demanded, her tone a reflection of what his own had been--only slightly more panicked. She wasn'tthat breakable, but Griffin was. "You shouldn't be out here."
One of his legs brushed the back of hers. Beneath her striped stocking, her skin prickled. "I know, but I hear it's the only way to experience the sensation of flying." She could tell he was smiling without being able to see his handsome face. "It is magnificent, isn't it? Look, there's the Statue of Liberty."
It was magnificent, so much so that Finley couldn't find words to reply. Spread out before them--just beyond the ship's lanterns--was a blanket of lights. It looked like stars covered the ground, and set a short distance from it all was the largest lady she'd ever seen, the glow from her torch illuminating from her raised hand to just the top of her crowned head. The lights of the dirigible brought the rest of her into view.
"I asked the pilot to fly by her so we can have a better look," Griff said.
"Asked or told?" she teased. This was Griffin's private airship--the Helena, named after his mother. Someone else might fly it for him, but he was the one in charge.
He smiled. "Asked. What do you think of America so far?"
"It's grand." It came out a little more exuberant than she'd planned. She had never been outside England--never been outside London--so this was already the adventure of a lifetime for her. Never mind that only a fortnight ago, she'd been battling for the safety of all the world against a madman. That had been terrible and frightening and not...
