The Aviator by Morgan Karpiel Read Free Book Online

bowing their stout frames, chuckling under bristling mustaches, their suits impeccably starched and tailored.
    Nathan frowned and took his seat, distracted by the glow of sunset behind the room’s spindle work balcony. The sky was now a rosy hue, the approaching airships drifting like fabric whales in a burning sea, their skin blushed to pink, windows and gondolas glinting with crimson light. He wondered briefly if Gilda was colored in the same rich shade, her fingers steadying the rudder of a giant airship he’d built, her eyes set on the fiery horizon as she prepared to rendezvous with the Intrepid.
    He dropped his gaze, confused by the notion that he wanted her to see the new air machine when it was tested in the morning. He wanted her reaction. Perhaps just to be cruel, to gloat and watch her accept that he had already sold it, and himself, to the Royal Navy…to force her to accept that not everything in this world belonged to her.
    He enjoyed the thought of that.
    But then, other imaginings fit themselves in without permission, her expression the moment she understood the freedom his new machine would offer, her cool fingers on the wooden wheel, her breathless admiration after the first flight. The Navy could train a thousand test pilots, and not one of them would fly it with the skill and abandon she would. Not one of them would understand what he had intended. She was reckless and infantile, but she was the best pilot he’d ever seen, and when she was in the clouds, she was something else entirely.
    He glared at the crystal goblet set above his plate, its facets turning the candlelight into sparkling color, its beauty created by angles and flaws.
    “To our host,” one of the investors was on his feet, raising his goblet.
    Nathan blinked, focusing on the slender figure of Lord Wycott, his gesture grandiose in the small dining room. “Very well done, sir. We have enjoyed the trip to this rare island and are all most excited by the prospect of this investment venture. Sinclair has the most solid of reputations, in an era that has seen far too many flashes in the pan.”
    Nathan forced a polite acknowledgment, raising his glass in return. “Good of you to say, sir. I am gratified that you have found our operations here satisfactory. I look forward to briefing you all, in detail, after dinner.”
    “Oh yes,” a feminine voice rose from doorway. “I anticipate that most eagerly, I must admit.”
    Gilda.
    Heads turned. Men rose from their seats in awkward surprise, the astonishment in the room palpable. And understandable.
    She stood before them in a dress of the deepest scarlet, its satin shimmering in the candlelight, her naked shoulders pale against crimson bows and the dark glitter of beads. She stared at him, the devil in red, her expression glowing with triumph, her blonde hair spilling over jeweled pins.
    “Your Ladyship,” one of the investors said brightly. “How delightful.”
    Most of the other guests looked less certain. Sharing a business with the Mad Lady Sinclair, even while holding the majority of overall shares, was not a prospect they particularly enjoyed thinking about. It was a small and unpalatable detail in the large profit scheme that was Sinclair Airship , a detail much easier to ignore when she wasn’t standing in the room, dressed in flaming red satin.
    Nathan felt the sweat break under his collar. There was no choice but to play the ruse and hope for some measure of cooperation in return. He rose to his feet. “Good of you, to join us, Lady Sinclair. I’m happy to report that our new investors have great plans to expand the company and increase your profits .”
    “That is welcome news,” she replied, allowing herself to be seated at the opposite end of the table, settling like a restless cat in her voluminous skirts. “This year has been so dreadful, after all.”
    “Dreadful?” Lord Wycott looked dismayed.
    “Not a dime of profit, but what can you do? Flying elephants is an