Pucinelli beamed at her. “It is good to see such an intrepid young lady. If you will come this way…”
When he gestured toward the balloon, Eleanor moved closer, accompanied by Prince Lazzara and Damon, while her aunt and Signor Vecchi remained there to watch from a distance.
“Have you ridden in a balloon before?” she asked Damon curiously.
“Yes, with Pucinelli in fact, when I was last in Rome,” he answered.
They stood for another short period while Pucinelli supervised his crew, who were busily unhooking hoses and closing flaps at the mouth of the balloon, then safely storing the casks and fueling machinery.
When the aeronaut eventually signaled they could board, Damon guided Eleanor forward to the wooden access steps. “Allow me, my lady,” he murmured in warning.
Swinging her up into his arms, Damon mounted the four steps, then lifted her over the edge of the chest-high basket and set her on her feet inside. Then, to her puzzlement, he hoisted himself aboard.
“I thought Prince Lazzara was to be the other passenger
,” Eleanor said as his highness moved away to join their party.
“Not for this journey,” Damon replied in a mild tone.
She recognized the glint he always got in his eyes when he was about to do something outrageous, and her own gaze darkened with suspicion. “Just what are you about, Damon?”
“I convinced Lazzara to stay behind.”
“You convinced him…?”
“I told you, I have no intention of letting you go anywhere with him unless I accompany you. If someone wishes him harm, a balloon ascension could provide an ideal opportunity to target him.”
A sudden breeze made the balloon tug at its moorings, which caused the basket to sway. Jostled, Eleanor clutched at the rim as she pressed her lips together in exasperation. Damon was obviously worried for her safety, but she wasn't certain his excuse could be fully trusted.
“Is that your only reason for taking the prince's place just now?” she asked. “Or are you still intent on spoiling our courtship?”
Damon's mouth quirked. “I confess that played a role in my rationale. I don't intend to let you wed him, Elle.”
Miffed by his nonchalance, Eleanor eyed Damon reproachfully. “If Prince Lazzara is not coming, then you needn't be concerned for my safety, which means you needn't come either. In truth, I would rather go with Signor Pucinelli by myself.”
Damon cocked his head. “The decision is not open for argument, sweeting. If you don't want my presence, then we will both remain here safely on the ground. I can lift you out as easily as I lifted you in.”
She hesitated, aware that Damon could be even more stubborn than she. “That won't be necessary,” she finally muttered. “I don't want to miss the chance to take a balloon flight.”
“I suspected as much,” Damon said wryly.
The basket rocked again, nearly making Eleanor lose her balance. Clinging to the rim, she decided that a gust of wind must have buffeted the balloon, causing it to rise a short distance. And yet the ground continued to fall away below them.
Then she heard Damon's low curse, followed shortly by Signor Pucinelli's startled shout from below. It took Eleanor a moment to realize what had happened: The basket had somehow been liberated from its tether and no one was holding the guide ropes. She and Damon were lifting off, just the two of them, with no one to pilot the balloon.
Pucinelli came running toward the rising gondola along with his crew, but they were too late. Although one man made a mad lunge for a dangling rope and managed to grasp it for an instant, after being dragged along the ground a dozen yards, he lost his purchase. When the rope was ripped from his hands, the balloon shot upward, sailing off into the blue.
From below, Eleanor heard shouts of surprise and horror, including what she thought was her aunt's frantic voice. Her own startlement at their abrupt ascent, however, was tempered by a sudden suspicion. “What is this, Damon, an abduction?”
His scowl dismissed her question as nonsense as he surveyed the scene below. “Why the devil would I risk your safety by arranging an abduction? I had nothing to do with this, Eleanor. My guess is that someone unfastened the moorings.”
When he emitted another oath, Eleanor glanced down and became even more aware of the danger. They were at least a hundred feet above the earth by now, imprisoned in a weaving basket held aloft by a manufactured swath of fabric that would soon lose its buoyancy. Far below, the spectators looked like a milling colony of ants, while the meadow where they had launched was fast disappearing.
Eleanor suddenly felt light-headed, while her stomach lurched. When her knees were struck by a similar weakness, she sank down to the floor of the basket and leaned her forehead against her updrawn legs.
“You aren't turning vaporish on me, are you?”
Damon said bracingly as he went down on one knee beside her.