Novel - Airman Read Free Page A

kings of the day, a youthful thirty-seven, dressed in stout hunting leathers and a flat cap. His sideburns were trimmed back, and his hair cut military style, close to the skull. His face was tanned, with a tic-tac-toe pattern of faded scars on his forehead from a close call with a land mine. A stranger might assume Nicholas to be the king’s gamekeeper, but never the king. There was no pomp or circumstance about the man, and he lived as plainly as one could in a stately palace. Nicholas had served as a skirmisher and a balloonist during the American Civil War, and it was said that he slept on the window seat in his royal chamber because the bed was too soft.
    Nicholas was a new breed of European king. One who was determined to use whatever power he had to improve the quality of life for as many people as possible. Good King Nick. Declan Broekhart loved him like a brother.
    Declan hitched the yacht’s bow line, then leaped onto the jetty to greet his monarch.
    “Your Majesty,” he said, bowing slightly.
    King Nicholas returned the bow, then punched his friend on the shoulder.
    “Declan! What kept you? I read about your miraculous airborne baby before I see him. I can only pray that he has inherited his mother’s features.”
    While the men shared a chuckle, Catherine stepped onto the gangplank, holding her precious bundle wrapped in a blanket.
    “Catherine,” said Nicholas, taking her arm. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”
    “I had my fill of rest on board.” Catherine pulled little Conor’s blanket down past his chin. “Now, your newest subject would like to meet his king.”
    Nicholas peered into the swaddling, finding a baby’s face in the shadows. He was a little disconcerted to find the child’s eyes focused and seemingly taking his measure.
    “Ah,” he said, rearing back slightly. “So . . . alert.”
    “Yes,” said Catherine proudly. “He has his father’s sharpshooter eyes.”
    But King Nicholas saw more. “Perhaps. But he has the Broekhart chin, too. Stubborn to a fault. Your brow, though, Catherine. A scientist perhaps, like his mother.” He tickled baby Conor’s chin. “We need scientists. There’s a new world coming our way from America, and Europe too. The Saltees won’t stay independent unless we have something to offer the world, and the diamond mine on Little Saltee won’t last forever. Scientists, that’s what we need here.” King Nicholas tugged on his riding gloves. “Teach him well, Catherine.”
    “I will, Your Majesty.”
    “And take him up to the palace. Introduce him to Isabella.”
    “I’ll take him up after breakfast,” promised Catherine.
    Nicholas smiled sadly. “Isabella’s mother would have had a gift wrapped and ready. The perfect gift.” The king stood silently for a moment, remembering his wife, then roused himself.
    “And now, Declan, sorry to drag you away, but apparently some opium smugglers have dug themselves into Lady Walker’s Cave. Right under our noses.”
    “I’ll take care of it, Majesty. Perhaps you would escort Catherine to our quarters?”
    “Nice try, Captain.” Nicholas grinned, clapping his hands. “Trying to keep me out of harm’s way, weren’t you?” The king was excited again, the old soldier in him relishing the chase. Unlike most old soldiers, he did not relish the kill. These smugglers would be sent to work the diamond mine on the prison island of Little Saltee, but not harmed unless it was unavoidable.
    “Come now, we have dawn light and low tide. Criminals do not like to get up early, so we should catch them napping.” The king touched his cap to Catherine, then strode down the jetty toward a small company of Saltee cavalry on horseback. It was, in fact, the entire Saltee army mounted division, a dozen expert horsemen on Irish stallions. Two of the horses were without riders.
    Declan was anxious to stay with his wife, but more anxious to be about his work. “I must go, Catherine. The king will injure himself swinging