Page 81 of Courting the Country Miss

A quiver of excitement raced through her. “I’ve always wanted to ride in one of those.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Our schedule is busy. Besides, my aunt thinks they are dangerous.” She finally admitted, “I’m a bit frightened at the thought.”

“It’s very safe, I promise.” Tristan looked ahead. “We’re here.”

In a wide expanse of grass, a small crowd formed a circle underneath an airborne balloon tethered by ropes. A shimmer of silver wrapped up in an elongated ball soared overhead. The coachman drove them closer, revealing the balloon’s immensity, though it floated perhaps a hundred feet above the lawn.

Awed, Leticia craned her neck. “It’s huge.”

As Tristan helped her down from the barouche, she could hardly keep her eyes off the magical-looking craft.

“I’m happy to have impressed you.” A chuckle touched his rich voice.

Dragging her gaze away, she eyed Tristan who stood half a head taller than she. His hand, still on her arm, warmed through the fabric of her clothes to her skin. His scent, familiar but somehow more masculine-than-ever, burrowed deep inside her.

His eyes danced over her face, an odd combination of intensity and joy. “Your eyes look very green today, Tish.” The intensity vanished and her childhood playmate returned. He tapped her underneath the chin, snapping her out of whatever madness had seized her. “Shall we ride your balloon?”

She pushed back the quiver in her stomach and wound her arm around his. “Have you ever ridden one?”

“A few times as a child.”

She nodded and swallowed, but the nervousness only grew. Tristan paid their fare and led her toward the balloon. As they approached the send-off point, several men pulled on ropes as thick as their wrists to bring the balloon back to its starting place. The balloon sank to the earth, bringing a large basket filled with passengers. Workers tied the ropes while others attached large bags of sand to keep the balloon down. Starry-eyed adults and a few wide-eyed children climbed out of the large wicker basket using stepladders. Excited chatter filled the air as the passengers related their experiences. None of them looked terrified. She gulped.

A couple in line in front of them got in next, and the balloon rose, soaring effortlessly above them. Her nerves eased at the awe-inspiring sight.

“Amazing.” Leticia breathed.

Tristan stood next to her, letting her experience it without interruption. Strange how he always seemed to know what she wanted. Richard had never been in such harmony as she was with Tristan. Her love for Richard must have muddied her connection to Tristan.

What if the feeling she had always harbored for Richard had, in fact, been some form of hero worship instead of a healthy love between potential man and wife? She would have to give that further thought. It might help her identify her feelings with regard to Lord Bradbury and Captain Kensington.

Several minutes later, men with arms the size of pugilists hauled the air craft down using its ropes.

“The balloon stays tethered the whole time?” Leticia asked.

“It does,” Tristan said. “We can’t go flying all over London looking in people’s windows, you know.”

She tried to give him an answering smile but it probably came out wobbly.

“Almost our turn,” Tristan said.

Leticia donned her heavy cloak. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the frog closures.

Tristan’s sure hand held her steady as she mounted the stepladders on either side of the wicker basket. Her legs shook so badly she had to grasp the other pair of hands outstretched to help her. As Tristan climbed in after her, she peered around tanks and handles and gazed up at the balloon over her head. Harnesses connecting to ropes attached the basket to the ornate balloon, covered by some kind of netting, created an intricate network.

“Welcome,” the balloon operator said. “I’m your pilot. It’s a clear, still day—perfect for a balloon ride.” He grinned, his craggy face and missing teeth reminding her of an old sea captain.

“Excellent,” Tristan said.

“Release the ballasts,” the pilot called out.

As he opened a valve and pulled on a lever, workers removed the sand bags. They lifted off in a smooth, effortless rise. The ground fell away. Trees and people and buildings shrank below her. Fear arose and cut off her breath. Nothing seemed connected to her. What if she fell out of the basket? What if the balloon caught fire? What if the tethers broke and they floated away and never came back down? Her breath came in harsh bursts.

“Nothin’ t’ worry about, miss,” the pilot said. “All very safe. I’ve been doing this for ages.”

“If memory serves, this is powered by a type of gas called hydrogen?” Tristan asked the pilot.