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Giving into fear at the last moment, she tightly closed her eyes, for she’d rather not see the actual moment that Death came for her. With a scream of terror in her throat, she was thrown to the floor of the basket as the gondola impacted with that first tree. It skimmed over the top, almost as if she might coast to a stop in a precariously balanced position, but as soon as she peeked her head over the edge of the basket, the whole equipage continued its fall.
She screamed again. The basket tumbled through a cluster of trees. Each time when she thought it might stop, the basket’s weight shifted, and down she went again. Her pulse pounded hard in her ears; the snap and breakage of twigs and branches was deafening.
At some point, she was dumped from the basket as it upended itself. Fighting to find any sort of purchase to stop the fall, Anne reached out for branches as they went rapidly past. Nothing but leaves came away in her gloves. Her arms, her head, her chest, her legs were all battered on the descent, but she was thankful she hadn’t been as high as she could have been had the wind been kind.
The ground rushed up and she twisted her body, wanting to hit on her back instead of headfirst, and the force of the impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Her head glanced off the dirt, and one of her arms was twisted beneath her. Everything hurt. In fact, she couldn’t determine which part of her ached worse, but her head was leading. As she struggled to suck air into her lungs, she stared up into the canopy where the basket of her balloon was snagged within a network of large branches. The envelope itself had come to rest on the tree beside it, the silk draping down like a duchess’ elegant skirts.
For long moments, she lay on the ground afraid to move lest she do more damage to herself. Her pulse pounded in time with the agony in her head. Every once in a while, leaves and various twigs drifted down to her location. The pungent scents of dirt and broken branches clogged her nose. Here and there, a rocket burst into multi-colored lights, half hidden by the trees. Tears welled in her eyes, whether from the pain or her failure, she couldn’t say. When the moisture caught within her goggles, she used her good hand to shove them upward on her forehead and let herself cry.
“I’m alive and that’s all that matters right now,” she whispered to the darkened world at large. There’d be plenty of time later to dwell on disappointment.
“Anne!” The frantic sound of Benedict’s voice had relief crashing over her. “Anne, where are you?”
“Benedict!” She tried calling out to him, but her strength was rapidly failing, and the pain and tightness of her chest prevented her from taking too deep a breath.
Because she expected nothing less from him and because she’d known, deep down inside, that he would always find her wherever she’d manage to drift, the viscount burst onto the scene looking very much like a storybook hero of old mounted upon his horse while still in his dark evening clothes.
“Anne!” He tugged hard on the reins, which made his horse dance with surprise and a snort. Without waiting for the animal to completely halt, he dismounted and ran toward her. “Dear Lord, Anne, I feared the worst when that rocket punctured your balloon.”
“So did I, rather,” she managed to whisper.
When he reached her location, he threw himself onto his knees. “Are you hurt badly?” The fear threading through that question pulled at her heart.
“I’m not certain yet, but I do know that my whole body aches. And I think my left arm will need attention.”
“My darling girl. It was Mr. Davies who encouraged some of the gypsies to go ahead with the fireworks early. Augustus rode to tell them to desist, for it might bring down your balloon.”
“I should have suspected that buggar of sabotage.”
“He’s the worst.” With infinite care, as if she were indeed the broken china doll he no doubt thought of her, he gathered her into his arms, his lap, and just when she thought he’d say something else, he brought his lips crashing down onto hers. Then he eased away, his eyes wide in the dim light. “I thought you would die, that my assessment of this flight was sound despite my belief in your skill.”
“What?” The words stung more than her battered body. She pushed at his chest with her good hand. “You don’t fully believe in me? You lied before?” Now that she was somewhat mobile and upright, the agony in her left arm sent the urge to retch into the back of her throat. Oh, that wasn’t good. Perhaps she’d broken it again.
“No. Yes, of course I do,” he tried to explain, his words rushed. “But—”
“But nothing.” She needed to withdraw, to put distance between her and him before she became a watering pot for more reasons than the aftermath of the crash.
He frowned when she scrambled to her feet and swayed in the search for stability. “I don’t like you taking such unwarranted risks in the pursuit of being someone you’re not.”
“I beg your pardon?” The words shredded the edges of her confidence. Was that what he truly felt?
“I didn’t mean that.” Benedict stood as well. He shoved a hand through his hair; had he lost his hat in coming to her rescue? “I’m not myself just now. You almost died, Anne.”
“Yet I didn’t.” She shook her head, prepared to give him a dressing down, wishing to hurt him as much as his ill-advised words did her. “You have no right to tell me how to live my life. If I want to take risks, then that’s what I’ll do.” The world began to spin while her head ached even more fiercely. Perhaps she should lie back down…
“But I—”
“No.” She held up her good hand. That glove had been torn open and a trickle of blood marred her skin. “Ballooning is my project, my life’s work!” Anger heated her chest, fueled by his betrayal. “If it were up to you, I’d be locked in a room with nothing but embroidery and painting to occupy my days, but I’m not that woman. So don’t think to protect me from making mistakes. It’s how I learn—how we all do—and everyone’s existence is full of them.”
“I’m only trying to make you look at the situation more clearly. There are ways to minimize the risks—”
Anne swallowed a few times to keep retching at bay. His image swam in front of her eyes. “Don’t dissuade me from my dreams because you’re too afraid to chase yours, Benedict.” That was perhaps the greatest truth she’d ever told him.
Hurt jumped into his eyes, but she couldn’t help it. Perhaps this talk was a long time in coming. “I’m not, I would never…” He sighed. “I apologize for what I said. That was insensitive.”
“Perhaps it’s true, and I’m only fooling myself.” Tears again welled in her eyes. “Obviously, I’ve failed, and you were right to say what you did.” If she accepted that, did it mean giving up on her dreams?
“Anne, that’s not the case. However, I’m only trying to protect you. Can’t you see that? You’re no good to anyone if you’re dead.” His voice broke. “The world would be considerably less bright if you weren’t in it.”
“But risk takers are the ones who change the world.” Her chin wobbled. Of course she knew what he’d said was sound, but his words had cut to the quick. All her life she’d been told by various people that she couldn’t do what she’d dreamed of, that she wasn’t good enough because she was a woman, that she’d never make a difference by causing scandal, that she wasn’t in the usual style.
From him it was just too much, for she’d thought he was different…
And that’s exactly the reason I didn’t want my heart involved.
“I don’t need a keeper, Lord Worthington.” She stumbled as the world spun about her and the pain rose to collect her in its vortex. “However,” she held up one finger, “I do need you to catch me. I believe I’m going to faint…”
How he moved so quickly, she couldn’t fathom, but Anne crumpled into his waiting arms, and with a sigh she let the darkness have at her.
