Page 77 of A Stolen Heart

Alexandra drew in her breath sharply. “That is why you dislike him so!”

“Yes. Although, God knows, it could have been any one of a dozen other men. Barbara does not like to be alone. It broke my heart—for a time, at least. But it wasn’t really Barbara that I cried for—it was all my pitiful, broken illusions.”

“I’m sorry,” Alexandra said inadequately. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him close to her, to stroke his hair and assure him that she would banish all thoughts of Barbara and her betrayal. Of course, it was far too public a place to do something like that. However, she was not sure whether Sebastian would wish it, even if they were alone. He had apologized to her for what he had thought about her, but he had not said that he had any feelings for her, any desire. She could not help but remember the way he had rejected her that night at his house.

Sebastian shrugged. “It was a long time ago. It’s all over now.” He glanced toward their carriage. “I suppose we had better return. Else it will set tongues to wagging.”

“I find that tongues wag easily here.”

They returned to the carriage, where the servants had laid out the picnic luncheon they had brought. They ate while the slow process of filling the balloons continued. Gradually, all over the field, the balloons swelled and then began to lift from the ground.

Thorpe went off with Lord Buckminster to talk to a friend, and one of Lady Ursula’s acquaintances came over to talk to Penelope. Alexandra soon grew bored with the inconsequential chatter about people she did not know, and she decided to take a closer look at the balloons, which were floating above their baskets.

Taking her leave from the women, she strolled toward the jaunty blue-and-white-striped balloon that she and Sebastian had been looking at earlier. The man with the full head of white hair and the equally flowing white beard was standing in the basket of the balloon, arguing at full volume with the two younger men outside the basket.

Intrigued, Alexandra moved closer. The balloon was almost completely full, buoyant and straining against the ropes that held it tied to the ground. She watched the gesticulating men, who seemed to be arguing about the small bags tied to the side of the balloon. She wondered what the bags had to do with the flight of the balloon. Were they weights? She wondered how the whole thing operated and if the balloonists ever took passengers up with them.

Intent on the men and their vehicle, she scarcely noticed the rustle of footsteps behind her, until suddenly an arm shot around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. She was being lifted and pulled backward almost before she knew what was happening.

The balloonists, wrapped up in their contretemps, didn’t even look her way. Alexandra twisted and struggled, lashing with her feet. One heel cracked hard into a man’s shin, and he let out an oath. His grip on her mouth loosened a little, and Alexandra grabbed at the hand with both of hers, yanking it from her mouth. She let out a piercing scream.

“Sebastian!”

The man who was holding her began to curse in earnest, and he clapped his hand over her mouth again. But Alexandra had managed to draw attention to them.

“I say! What are you doing?” Voices rose around them. To Alexandra’s profound relief, Sebastian turned and saw them. He started toward them on the run.

“Alexandra!”

Suddenly the man released her mouth, and an instant later he jabbed something small, round and hard against her temple—a pistol! Alexandra’s screams died in her throat.

“Stop!” He jerked the gun against her temple so hard it made her eyes water. Sebastian came to a halt, his face taut and furious. “I’ll shoot the witch if you come any closer!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sebastian told him, his hard gray eyes fixed on the man intently. He edged forward as he spoke. “You cannot possibly hope to get away. You’re surrounded.” He gestured toward the spectators blocking the man’s exit. “Let her go.”

“Wot? You think I’m a bleedin’ idiot?” Alexandra’s captor replied. “Ain’t none of you doin’ anyfing to me while I got this pop shooter to ‘er ‘ead. Not unless you want a dead lady on yer ‘ands. I said, stop right there!”

His voice rose hysterically, and Sebastian stopped, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “Nobody wants to hurt you. Just let her go, and you are free to leave. But if you take her, you will have half of London on your trail. You cannot possibly escape.”

“He’s right, you know,” Alexandra agreed.

“You shut up!” Alexandra could smell the fear in her captor, hear his rapid breathing, and she wisely closed her mouth.

He hesitated, then jerked her to the side, pulling her to the balloon. The three men who operated the balloon stared at them, openmouthed, their disagreement forgotten. Alexandra’s captor shoved her into the basket and followed her in.

“Here! You can’t do that!” The fellow with the flowing white hair started toward them indignantly.

Alexandra’s companion directed the barrel of his pistol toward him. “The hell I can’t! You stay back.”

“But—but the balloon’s ready to leave,” the balloonist protested.

“Then that’s right lucky, ain’t it, ‘cause so am I.” He gestured at the man with his pistol. “Start undoin’ them ropes.”

The man stared at him, his jaw dropping. “You can’t be serious! You know nothing—”

“Shut up!” Alexandra’s abductor roared, his face reddening, and the hand holding the pistol shook dangerously.

Now that the pistol was no longer pointed at her head, Alexandra thought about lunging against the man, but he still held her arms effectively to her sides, and she was also afraid that in his agitated state he would shoot wildly and hit one of the men before her. She dared a sideways glance in Sebastian’s direction and saw that, while her assailant’s attention was on the others, Sebastian was inching his way closer to the basket.