Her Highness, My Wife

by Victoria Alexander

  “Where are we going?” She gasped.

  “To the balloon.” He sped up on the gravel walkway. “The one place I can guarantee we will not be overhead.”

  “Excellent idea.” Her voice was breathless. “But must we run?”

  “We are not running,” he said, his tone clipped and determined. They circled the fountain and continued down the path toward the broad expanse of lawn that stretched endlessly toward the lake. “We are proceeding at a speed designed to ensure I have you where you can speak freely before you have the opportunity to change your mind.”

  “I shall not change my mind, but, Matthew, I cannot—” She stumbled behind him.

  He turned on his heel, scooped her up in his arms before she could hit the ground and continued without so much as a momentary pause.

  “Matthew.” She stared at him. “Surely you do not intend to carry me all the way to the balloon?”

  “Surely I do,” he said firmly.

  “It is rather a distance, and you shall be exceedingly tired.”

  “I shall survive.” He slanted her a quick glance. “It will be well worth it.”

  “I do hope so.”

  It might well have been his single-minded concentration, but they reached the balloon in no time. It was fully inflated, tied to the ground with a series of stout ropes.

  He tossed Tatiana unceremoniously into the balloon’s wicker gondola, ignored her muffled “Ooph” and muttered comment and turned to study the scene.

  Something didn’t seem right, although he couldn’t say what exactly struck him as odd. A fire still burned in a pit dug nearby, and the tunneling device used to direct the hot air sat on the ground. His tools and various other pieces of equipment were neatly arranged under the protection of the tent canopy. But there wasn’t a servant in sight. Perhaps that was it.

  “There were half a dozen men here when I left. There should be at least one or two still here.”

  “Obviously they were called away. Is that bothersome?”

  “Not really.”

  It wasn’t a concern, given that all he and Tatiana would do was simply ascend while remaining tethered to the ground. He could certainly handle that alone and indeed had done so uncounted times before. Still, there was something here that bothered him. Probably nothing more than apprehension over Tatiana’s long-awaited revelation.

  He shook off the feeling and climbed into the basket, running his gaze and his fingers over the ropes, lines, connections and hundred other tiny points where a problem could occur.

  He nodded at the far side of the basket. “If you will untie those ropes at the same time I unfasten these, that will even the pull on the basket from the balloon and allow us to ascend in a relatively level manner.”

  “I am not an idiot, Matthew. I do remember.” She huffed. “And this particular chore is not overly complicated. I think I can manage it.”

  He glanced at her. “I hope you also manage to remember not to untie the thickest rope. That’s the line keeping us tethered to the ground.”

  She cast him a look of disgust and he bit back a grin.

  Within moments they were rising smoothly in the gray sky. Matt watched the thick roll of rope on the ground, linking the craft to a stake driven deep into the earth, uncurl easily without the knotting or kinking that could cause a hazard later. The rope would allow them to go up approximately eighty feet, high enough to test his equipment, although for this quick flight he was not planning on testing anything. And high enough to avoid any possibility of eavesdropping.

  They had ascended to a height of about twenty feet. Everything was proceeding as it should. Matt’s gaze skimmed once more over potential problem areas. One could never be too careful. A fall from even this height would kill them.

  “Now, then.” He turned toward Tatiana and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m ready.”

  “Very well.” The wooden rail that rimmed the wall of the basket came to just above the small of her back and she rested against it, grasping the rail in either hand, as comfortable in manner as if she traveled in balloons every day.

  “Go ahead.” He stared at her expectantly.

  “I am thinking.” She pulled her brows together in a considering manner. “I am indeed trying to follow the path taken by the Princess Sophia when she was in England.”

  “I have determined that much,” he said wryly. “Why?”

  “Well…” She paused. Her reluctance at this point was disquieting. Apprehension trickled through him. He had never believed what she was doing was dangerous in any way. At most he thought her quest was regarding something of a scandalous nature. Until the destruction of her room. Abruptly he realized how serious this might well be.

  She drew a deep breath. “But when I said I was writing a history of the princess’s travels, that was not entirely accurate.”

  “No?” He widened his eyes in feigned surprise. “Imagine my astonishment.”

  “Perhaps it would be easier to start at the beginning.”

  “How refreshing.”

  She ignored him. “As a hereditary princess of the Kingdom of Greater Avalonia, I am permitted to wear the Heavens of Avalonia. Indeed, I am charged with the care and protection of the Heavens.”

  “The care and protection of the heavens?” He raised a brow. “Why not the sun and the moon as well?”

  “The sun and the moon as well as the stars are indeed part of the Heavens.”

  He studied her. “Precisely what are you talking about?”

  “The Heavens of Avalonia is a set of precious jewels. Specifically, it is comprised of a large opal representing the moon, an equally large ruby for the sun and four slightly smaller, perfect diamonds—”

  “The stars?”

  “Exactly.” She nodded. “They are set in a wide gold cuff and traditionally worn by the queen in the absence of a hereditary princess. Otherwise, it is one of the duties of my office to safeguard the Heavens. It is a tradition hundreds of years old.”

  “A tradition? Like Avalonian brandy?”

  “Not exactly.” She wrinkled her nose. “This one is much more pleasant and, well, legitimate. At any rate, I have worn the cuff for state events and ceremonies all of my life. It is only recently that it was discovered that the Heavens, which neither I nor anyone else had ever questioned, was fake.

  “My brother Alexei learned of this quite by accident, in papers hidden away somewhere, I believe. The jewels disappeared during a time of great upheaval in my country’s history, half a century ago. My grandfather was king and had a replica of the cuff created. He and the queen both died within a few years of the disappearance of the Heavens and the mere fact that it had vanished and been replaced died with them. It was a closely guarded secret and even my immediate family was unaware of it. The counterfeit is quite an excellent copy, but then I suppose it had to be.”

  “I see,” he said slowly. “And all this happened fifty-some years ago?”

  She nodded.

  “At around the same time your Princess Sophia fled to England with little more than an infant, a bag of clothes and—”

  “The heritage of my country.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “No. It is entirely possible Sophia did not take the jewels. Even if she had, I am confident her motives were honorable. It was, after all, her sacred duty to protect them. But her flight from Avalonia coupled with the disappearance of the Heavens is too great a coincidence to ignore.”

  “A ruby, an opal and four perfect diamonds.” Matt shook his head in disbelief. “Set in gold.”

  “I rather suspect by this time they have been taken out of the cuff. A handful of gems is much easier to hide than a wide gold bracelet. Besides, the gold is really not significant.”

  “Of course not,” he said wryly. “The jewels alone must be worth a fortune.”

  “Indeed, they are priceless, but their value cannot be measured in terms of money.” Her gaze met his, dark green—no, emerald—and intense. “A
ccording to legend, Avalonia will stand as long as the Heavens. They have been in my country for centuries and are a symbol of the right of my family to rule.”

  “It all makes a horrible sort of convoluted sense. Your ridiculous story about writing a family history—”

  “It was not ridiculous.”

  “And why you wanted to be known as Lady Matthew instead of an Avalonian princess.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded, obviously pleased that he understood. “If someone knew about the jewels, they would never tell a princess. However, they might well inadvertently reveal something to Tatiana Weston, a mere scholar.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I thought your original story about writing a family history was ridiculous, but this one is even more absurd.”

  “Regardless, it is absolutely true,” she said staunchly.

  “Oh, I believe the story.” A gust of wind buffeted the basket and he gripped the rail on either side of him, bracing his feet to accommodate the sway. “What I don’t believe is that you seriously planned to travel to the homes of three elderly women, engage them in conversation over tea, whereupon they would promptly tell you where a fortune in jewels is hidden.”

  “I did not think it would be easy,” she snapped.

  “I’m certain you didn’t. I’m equally certain you planned to take advantage of their hospitality to search their homes.”

  She clenched her jaw and turned her head to stare off into the distance. “It could have worked.”

  “It’s the second most foolish thing I have ever heard you say.” He shook his head. “These are all honorable women from honorable families. They are not part of your Avalonian political intrigue. All they have ever done is to help a lady in need. You would do best just to tell them the truth.”

  “Possibly,” she said grudgingly.

  “While I shall never understand your thinking, I do realize how, to a mind like yours, your plan could seem reasonable. What I don’t understand”—he chose his words carefully—“is why you didn’t tell me.”

  “Why I did not tell you.” She repeated his words slowly, as if she were struggling to find an acceptable response.

  “That’s the question.” He was certain he wouldn’t like the answer. “Why?”

  “Why?” Her gaze snapped back to his. “I could not trust a man I had known less than a week with the future of my country.”

  “But you could marry a man you’d known less than a week.”

  “Indeed. But”—she shook her head—“that was different.”

  “How?”

  “That was my life, my future, not my country’s.”

  “Did you honestly think I was so desperate for funding I would take your jewels for myself? That I had no sense of honor? That I was a thief?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation. “But I could have been wrong and I could not take that risk.”

  He pulled his gaze from hers and stared unseeing over the treetops. He was angry, yet he was hard-pressed to fault her.

  “Would you have done differently?” Challenge rang in her voice. “If you had been in my position, would you have put your country’s fate in the hands of someone you barely knew, no matter how much you cared for him?”

  He looked at her and blew a long resigned breath. “No.”

  “No?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

  “No.” He shrugged. “Because I could not put the fate of a family I had not spoken to in a decade in the hands of someone I had known less than a week and was now certain was lying to me. No matter how much I cared for her.”

  “Oh.” She stared for a long moment. “How much do you care for her?”

  He shook his head and uttered a short laugh. “More than I ever thought possible.”

  “Something else in which we are well matched. It cannot be mere coincidence.” She smiled slowly. A smile of promise and invitation. “Perhaps it is past time we do something about it?”

  He grinned with surrender. Damn it all, he wanted her, and she wanted him, and maybe the future could take care of itself. “It would be wrong if we didn’t.”

  Pity there wasn’t room to do much of anything. The basket was designed for function and smaller than the gondolas on most balloons. Circular in shape, the bulk of the center section was taken up by his heating device. A narrow walkway, less than a yard in width, ran between the mechanism and the outer wall of the basket. Leather pouches for storage were affixed to the wall. There was barely room for two people to pass.

  Yet within a moment they were face-to-face.

  He braced his feet instinctively to adjust for the movement of the balloon. In the back of his mind he noted the wind was a bit brisker than he’d realized. Not a particular problem, but something to be aware of.

  Tatiana gazed up at him. “I quite believe you would like to kiss me.”

  “Is it the look in my eye?”

  “Most certainly the look in your eye.” She slipped her arms around his neck. “Among other things.”

  Her lips met his and he gathered her close against him. The basket swung sharply with a hard gust of wind and he barely noticed it, far more intent on the feel of her mouth, pliant and welcoming under his.

  “Matthew.” She looked up at him. “I think it would be best if we were to descend.” She swallowed hard. “At once.”

  He laughed and pulled her closer. “Come, now, Princess, if I recall, you quite enjoyed being up amidst the clouds. Surely you’ve not developed a fear of heights?”

  “Heights is not what I fear,” she murmured.

  He studied her carefully. It might have been nothing more than the effect of the late afternoon light. The day had been gray and overcast with no sun to speak of, but the color of her face was odd. A pasty shade of white. Not at all normal.

  “Are you quite all right?” Concern sounded in his voice.

  “Fine. Really, quite”—she smiled weakly—“fine.”

  No not white. Green. He’d seen that color before. On board ship on those rare occasions when someone unused to the rigors of the sea succumbed to mal de mer.

  “You’re sick, aren’t you?”

  “I do not travel well.” She drew out of his arms and turned away, leaning on the basket rim for support.

  “Travel? You don’t travel at all. You simply move from place to place in a constant state of slumber brought on by…” At once he realized the truth. “You drink that awful brandy to put you to sleep because travel, or rather motion, makes you ill. I should have known.” He laughed. “I daresay that traditional traveler’s toast is nothing but fabrication to keep me from discovering this little problem of yours.”

  “It is a most unpleasant problem and not something I prefer to discuss. Furthermore, I am glad you find it amusing, although I doubt you will be laughing for long.”

  “No, of course not.” He stifled a grin. “You are feeling unwell and it’s not at all gallant of me to make light of your problem.”

  “It is not your gallantry that will change your mood.” An odd note sounded in her voice. “I believe, Matthew, we may be in trouble.”

  “In trouble?” At once, he looked upward at the balloon looming over them but saw nothing untoward. He glanced at Tatiana and followed her gaze. She stared downward, and only now did he note the treetops rushing past beneath them.

  His stomach clenched. “Well, this is indeed enough to foul anyone’s mood.”

  He leaned over the side of the basket. One end of the heavy tether rope was still firmly attached to the basket. He could spot the other end dancing in the breeze below them.

  “Damnation.” He stared in disbelief. “I watched the rope uncurl and saw nothing untoward. I can’t believe I missed this.”

  “Apparently we were far too busy with my confession to notice.”

  He straightened and studied her. “I checked to make certain that line was staked firmly to the ground not half an hour ago. Given that, and the state of your room, I gather there is more you have
yet to tell me.”

  “Yes, of course, but are you not going to do something?”

  “There really isn’t much I can do at the moment. We seem to have caught a current of air that is taking us in a northwesterly direction at a rather brisk rate of speed.”

  She glanced uneasily over the side. “Should we not, well, land?”

  “Would you have us land in the trees?” He shook his head. “We shall have to wait and watch for a pasture or a wide clearing of some sort.”

  “Are you certain we can wait? Will not the balloon descend when the air cools?”

  “Of course. However”—he smiled in a confident manner—“as that is precisely what I’ve been working on, there is no need for concern.”

  Tatiana eyed the odd-looking contraption in the center of the basket with obvious skepticism. “I thought you had said it still needed adjustment.”

  “Adjustment, yes, but minor.” He studied the combination of padded bottles, bindings and supports with pride. “Those containers are filled with a mix of oil and spirits. Lighting several of them will supply enough lift to avoid the trees.”

  He nodded at one of the leather pouches hanging on the basket. “You will find a brimstone match in that pouch.”

  She stuck her hand in the nearest pouch and shook her head. “This is empty.”

  “That’s odd. Well, no matter.” He squatted and gazed at the bottom of his heating system. Tucked within the supports, for situations precisely like this, was a flint box. “I much prefer matches, but this will do.”

  “Good.” She sank to her knees, folded her arms against the rail, closed her eyes and rested her head on her arms. “Do let me know what happens.”

  He cast her a quick look of sympathy. Poor woman. He’d never experienced such problems himself, but he could well understand her distress. It would be best to get her back on solid ground as soon as possible, but the balloon was already starting to drift lower, and without additional lift they could well crash into the trees.

  “This is quite unsettling,” she said, as if talking more to herself than to him. “Especially as it did not happen when last I was in your balloon.”