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atop him, straddling him, and pinned his wrists to the bed. Try and get free.
    He had grinned, that wide, spectacular grin that never failed to captivate her. Get free? Why would I want to?
    A sharp throb of loss resonated through her now, as she and Christopher stared at one another across the map. It seemed an appropriate measure of the distance between them—the map and its depiction of thousands of miles.
    “Give Mr. Herbert the precise coordinates of the installation and the isolated area,” he finally said.
    She hid her exhalation of relief, then told the navigator precisely where to avoid and where to find the safety she had described.
    “Have everything you need, Mr. Herbert?” Christopher asked, once the lieutenant had finished transcribing her notes.
    “Aye, sir.”
    “Come with me, Miss Shaw.” Hardly had these words left his lips than he paced from the navigator’s room.
    She struggled to keep up with his long-legged stride. He had the advantage of knowing not only the layout of the ship, but the movement of the crew, so he neatly wove past crewmen going about their duties without breaking pace. Her mouth firmed with determination. If he sought to make her feel awkward, he’d have to do better. She moved just as nimbly, skirting past crew carrying equipment, never hesitating when the companionways seemed a complex maze.
    She’d spent long hours poring over the schematics of every airship in Her Majesty’s Aerial Navy. Including the plans of the Demeter , knowing full well that Christopher was its captain. She had pictured him walking the decks, direct and unfaltering in his pace. Or she’d thought of him in his cabin, reviewing his log and absently rubbing at his jaw, as he always did when he read.
    Of course, when she’d thought of him then, he’d looked the same. Whipcord lean, quick to smile. Not the man he was now.
    Knowing the schematics of the Demeter, she understood without being told when they approached his quarters. He pushed open the door, startling the cabin boy. The young crewman stopped in the middle of picking up books scattered across the floor.
    “Dismissed,” Christopher said, entering the cabin. She immediately followed.
    The boy saluted and hurried out, closing the door behind him.
    She and Christopher were alone.
    He paced to a heavy cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, then poured himself a glass. After downing it all in one swallow, he poured out another measure and held it out for her.
    She took the glass, noting how careful he was to keep their fingers from touching. Uncertain what to say or where to begin, she sipped the whiskey, feeling its welcome burn. As she nursed her drink, she examined his quarters. They were located in the aft of the ship, with a long window running the length of the cabin. There was the carved cabinet, a desk, and a narrow, solitary bed. All standard issue. Much as she’d imagined it.
    But she saw that the books the steward had been gathering were not all treatises on naval policy or advancements in shipbuilding. Bending down, she picked up a book near her feet and smiled.
    “Still chasing birds,” she murmured, holding the book open to an illustration of a song thrush. He had never kept specimens, only watched the birds in the wild. It seemed a shame, he’d said, to admire a living creature and then shoot and stuff it. Or worse, cage the poor thing, depriving it of the open sky.
    He stepped forward and plucked the book from her hand. “Tell me what you’re doing here.”
    “Same as you. Fighting to keep the Hapsburgs from claiming the world’s supply of telumium.” Should the Hapsburgs acquire all the source of the rare metal, found only in a few remote places, they would construct a fleet of Man O’ Wars capable of conquering every nation, from Britain to the Americas and beyond.
    She finished her whiskey, needing its courage to say what she must, then set the glass down. After taking a breath, she said, “And now I need your