Bram steadied her with an arm about her shoulder, and though it was rather immodest of her to do so, she leaned into him, soaking in his strength.
“How’s the speed?” the balloon master called from below.
“Perfect,” Bram shouted downward, then turned to her. “This is not so bad, is it?”
“As long as I do not look or move around, it is fine.” And surprisingly, it was. God had blessed them with a calm night, and with the cloud cover, it was hard to tell how high they floated. If she set her mind to it, she could imagine being only a few feet off the ground, close enough to jump to safety, which was a calming thought indeed. “Actually, it is not as awful as I thought.”
“That’s my girl.” He grinned as the balloon master’s voice carried up to them.
“That’ll do, Mr. Hagethorn. They’re high enough. Have at it, O King!”
Bram gave her shoulder a little squeeze. “I am going to let you go now.”
She gripped the top ridge of the basket a little tighter as he pulled away. The flooring beneath her canted to one side as he lit the arrow, and it took everything in her not to yelp. The flame caught, and with impossibly smooth moves, he drewthe bowstring and released the fiery projectile down into the enormous woodpile at the center of the grounds. Cheers rose as red and orange began to lick over the smallest of branches, spreading into a bonfire that would light the night.
He turned back to her with a huge smile. “There we have it. Shall we return to earth, milady?”
“We absolutely sh—”
A curse belted out from below, overpowering the revelers near the bonfire. “It’s loose! The rope has broken.”
“But that’s impossible!” the balloon master bellowed.
Eva froze. Surely she hadn’t heard right. “What is he saying?”
Bram looked over the edge. “Hey! We are ready to come down.”
“Ease the flame!” the balloon master shouted. “Lower the flame!”
Eva’s legs shook, her knees threatening to give way. “Wh-what does that mean?”
But she didn’t need Bram to answer. The clench of his jaw and the upward movement of the balloon told her all she needed to know.
And what she knew was that she was going to be sick.
13
He’d spent the first half of his life adrift, so free-floating in a runaway hot air balloon really ought not be so very unfamiliar. But this time was different. Bram’s heart stalled in his chest as he stared, horrified, at Eva.
It wasn’t only his life at stake.
She hunched over, arm to her stomach, hand to her mouth, her bonnet lying forgotten on the basket floor. Thank God there was no wind casting them to kingdom come, nor were they rising at a breath-stealing rate, but still Eva quivered with suppressed fear.
He slung his arm around her and eased her to sit with her back against the basket wall. The flickering flame overhead supplied enough light to witness the ashen colour of her skin. He tipped her face toward his. “Breathe, Eva. Come on. You can do this.”
“I-I—oh!” Once again she slapped her hand to her mouth, her fingers muffling the rest of her words. “I am going to be sick.”
“No, you are not.” The words came out harsher than heintended but did a fair job of sparking a bit of anger in her eyes. Good. A little fight was just what she needed.
“Now then, you are going to breathe with me. In and out. Like this.” He sucked in then blew out an exaggerated lungful of air. “Ready?” Gently, he pulled her hand from her mouth. “In. Out.”
She inhaled—albeit very choppily—and exhaled just as roughly. A start, at least.
“That’s it. Keep it going.”
Her pale blue eyes locked on to his. This time, while still shaky, she breathed somewhat easier. After several more tries—and a silent prayer on his part—her air flowed much more freely. Pink seeped back into her cheeks, and the sharp line of her shoulders relaxed.
“See? That was not so hard.” Reaching for her hand, he smoothed his thumb along her palm. “There is nothing to fear. You are not alone. I am here. We will be fine.”
