This morning was the first time he’d ever willingly sought her company outside the bedroom. She wasn’t about to leave.
She shook her head, pasted a smile on her face. “I’m looking forward to a new experience,” she lied.
Montgomery glanced at her, amused, and went about his duties.
She wanted to sit down, curl herself into the smallest ball possible, and wedge herself into the corner of the woven basket. Instead, she stood frozen to the spot, terrified any movement might cause the balloon to carry them into the air before Montgomery was ready.
Dear Lord, she was going to be flying in only seconds.
“Montgomery,” she said, about to beg him to help her out of the basket. He glanced over her shoulder at her, smiled reassuringly, and she changed her mind. She shook her head, and he signaled to the men holding the mooring ropes.
One by one, they began to walk closer to him. The balloon ascended, and Veronica held on to one of the supports of the gondola as it gradually rose. Her stomach seemed fixed on the ground below and was refusing to make the journey.
Montgomery began to pull the mooring ropes back into the basket until they were tethered only by the strength of two men holding one rope. He leaned over the basket, an utterly foolhardy move in her opinion, and shouted to Ralston.
The men released the last rope, and they were aloft.
The balloon sighed, fell some distance, and began to sway in the air. Montgomery pulled the rope into the gondola as they ascended still higher.
She closed her eyes, grabbed the support with both arms, and pretended it was all a dream.
The last time she’d asked for divine intervention because of a decision she’d made had been the night she’d attended the Society of the Mercaii meeting. She was in the same situation again. No one had forced her into this basket. No one had made her take this adventure unless it was her foolish pride.
“You have to open your eyes,” he said, his tone amused. “Otherwise, you might just as well be sitting in your drawing room.”
“At the moment,” she said between gritted teeth, “I wish I were.”
“Veronica.”
She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, a smile on his face.
“There’s your Scotland,” he said, extending his hand as if offering the panorama to her.
She looked up, which was easier than looking down. A bird flew by, looking as startled at the sight of them as she was to be so close to him.
She was flying, improbably and impossibly, flying. She might as well look.
Her hands came up in the air, fingers splayed as if to press against an invisible barrier as she edged to the side.
He laughed and grabbed her around the waist with one arm, pulling her closer to him.
“You’re safer here than you would be walking on a London street. Or in a train.”
“That’s not exceedingly reassuring,” she said. “Since we aren’t walking through London or in a train at the moment. We’re very, very high up.”
With one hand, Montgomery reached over, increasing the flame.
“What are you doing?” she said, panicked.
“I’m ensuring that we’ll stay aloft,” he said, looking down at her.
“How do we get down?”
“See that rope?” he asked, pointing to a tightly wound rope on one of the gondola supports.
She nodded, careful not to do so vehemently. Even her breathing was cautious.
“It’s connected to a baffle on top of the envelope. I can release some of the hot air, which will allow us to land.”
