“It must be wonderful.” The flight convinced her more than ever that she’d made the right choice for her future. “I can’t imagine a life that doesn’t include flying. Of course, my family thinks me insane.”
“The only way to remain sane is to fly. Once you taste the thrill of flight, there can be no substitute.” Another refreshing glimmer of sincerity.
She much preferred the unfettered version of him. “Does your family understand your need to fly?”
“They encourage it. I’m almost never home.” His smile turned grim.
Did he mean they preferred him to travel than stay at home with them? Or did they indulge his need to fly? She didn’t pry. “I wish my family were so accommodating.”
“Your parents probably worry about you.”
She stared out at the horizon, an unwavering line that barely registered the distance they’d flown, like some invisible hand held a string to hold her in place to later reel her back to earth, helpless as a kite. “My mother died long ago. My stepmother dotes all her attentions on her twin daughters. Papa encourages me to keep learning. He gave me a workspace in his automaton factory, and I’ve been building gadgets and models there for years.” She heard herself babbling, but the words kept tumbling out. “Years—that’s how long I’ve been preparing for my time to fly. Now my stepmother’s planning to ruin everything. She’s throwing a ball and inviting all the unattached men in France, I think.” The startled expression on his face kept her talking, though she’d told no one else but Cadence her private thoughts. “I’m not going to be shackled into a marriage I don’t want. I refuse to be their sacrificial lamb.”
Silent, he watched her with no discernable judgment but perhaps she’d frightened him with her outburst. Too much honesty was more than some men could handle.
Her cheeks flushed warm. “I’m sorry, how boring I must sound. You don’t want to hear about my silly problems.”
“I never consider any problem as silly. And you are hardly boring. In fact, you’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever met.” He spoke with the same matter-of-factness as if he’d been discussing navigation, or the weather.
“Me?” Finette searched his face for signs he was teasing again, but found none. She didn’t think of herself as a grown woman, but he made her feel like one.
“Yes.” He eased nearer. “You.” He halted inches from her, his sea-blue eyes drinking her in.
Her lightheadedness vanished as her senses switched to full alert. A light, exotic aroma, one that hinted of desert sand and sea breezes, mingled with his musky scent. It hit her with a powerful surge, a primal force that her body recognized, though her mind blocked out everything but him. The way he moved smooth as clockwork but the inherent grace came from very real muscle wrapped in flesh and bone. The way he looked at her as if no one else existed. The way he seemed to know her and understand what she wanted as no one ever had.
Cadence’s warning to be careful whispered in her head. She wanted to silence it, to lock her arms around him and kiss him till daybreak. Before, she’d fought off suitors who tried to be intimate with her, but now she was the one who could hardly contain herself. Her hands wanted to reach for him, explore him. Test the boundaries of danger. And that urge alone convinced her she should keep herself in check, or risk complete ruin.
The deck railing was cold against her palm, and she squeezed harder. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
A possessive gleam lit a fire deep in his eyes. “Good.”
She wanted to throw herself into that fire. Her body began to tremble from the effort of holding back, the tension building every second his heated stare pierced her. When he dropped his gaze to her mouth, she released a shuddering breath.
The last thing she wanted to do was give the appearance of a weak female, yet she could stand it no longer. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
Heat flared in his eyes, the only visible change in him. “Only once.”
“Once is enough if you do it right.” She should slap her hand across her mouth, shut her silly self up, but she was rather enjoying his reaction. He appeared to shift between amusement and desire in a slow, controlled burn. Her body yearned to know the sizzle, learn how to tease his flame higher.
He feathered his touch along her jaw. “I wonder if that’s true. Or would one kiss create an endless need for more?”
The teasing ahead of the kiss was enough to drive her to the brink of madness. She lifted her chin, determined to meet whatever force he wielded on her with a force of her own. “Find out for yourself.”
He dug his fingers into her hair and held them firm along her neck. She startled at the unexpected show of strength and fought her sudden instinct to break free. If she asked him to stop, she suspected he would. She didn’t want him to.
With excruciating slowness, he brushed his lips against hers. The languid rhythm, tantalizing and mesmerizing, washed away the nervous tension that had locked her muscles in place. Her senses were drunk on him. The taste of him, an exotic spice. The waves of his hair surprisingly soft in her fingers. The fierceness beneath his tenderness. She wanted to unleash it all, but didn’t dare.
When he slowly drew back, she might have been floating somewhere above the clouds. She kept her eyes closed a few seconds longer to cling to the sensation, then opened them.
He had the drowsy look of one just awakened. “A kiss like that can cause wars.”
Oh, to drift away into that dreamland with him… “I’ll risk it, so long as it’s not us fighting.”
His sudden alertness told her she’d surprised him again.
His brow furrowed. “I hate to leave you.”
Then don’t. “Already?” She glanced out over the railing and her senses sharpened. Details in the landscape jumped out at her—especially Addie’s hangar. “Oh, we’re back.”
“My crew and I must get on with our travels. May I see you again next time I’m traveling through?”
After such a kiss, did he really feel the need to ask? “Yes.”
Some cold realization appeared to sober him, then vanished and left no trace behind. For a moment, she shared his fear. Today they’d crossed a line, leapt far past casual friendship, but they could stop now and all risk would disappear. Their hearts and lives would remain intact, and no one would be the wiser. If they moved forward, the next steps would complicate everything. The dance of courtship might begin, and she had a bad habit of tromping on men’s toes.
His eyes crinkled at the edges. A brief squeeze of her arms, and he strode to the hatch, threw it open and tossed the ladder down. “Ready?”
She followed him down the ladder until her boots touched the ground. There was so much she wanted to say, and it all seemed terribly inadequate, so she merely pressed a kiss to his cheek.
He lifted her hand to his lips. “Au revoir.”
“You’ll have to teach me Romanian so we can converse in your language.”
“I will.” Something held him there, and he seemed ready to say more, but above, a bell clanged. An exhale, and he snapped into action. No sooner had he clambered up inside the hatch than the airship turned, quiet as a ghost, and flew off.
She waited until the ship was hardly more than a speck before it disappeared into a cloud, and then kept waiting to see if he would reverse direction and speed back to her.
Fool, she admonished herself. You hardly know him. Some wishes were irrational, an overreaching of her girlish heart. Her head and her heart were rarely in agreement. On this, they aligned with precision. She didn’t know whether to embrace it or run away.
If nothing else, it affirmed her choice to restore the aeroplane. If she were to someday give her heart, she must be free of all constraints of obligation, and the only need she should seek to satisfy was that of her body and soul. Independence would provide her that freedom, but the aeroplane remained the key.
So she returned to her work of restoring the flying machine with the unwavering focus of an automaton.
***
Finette measured the days by the progress of her efforts. One day, removing the shredded linen from the hickory frame of the right wing. The next day, the bent tail rudder. The day following, the back wheel, the spokes of which had twisted. And the next, the snapped rudder control wires—the cause of the crash.
In successive days, she began replacing the ruined parts. On the afternoon she threaded the new rudder control wires into place, then sat in the pilot’s seat to test it, she knew from the tight response of the tail rudder that the aeroplane was ready for a test flight. She wanted to take it up more than anything in her life, and her heart leapt as she imagined herself skimming the air currents.
Instead, she forced herself to climb out of the flying machine. Her promise to Addie must stand. She would not fly until her friend returned home, so there was nothing left for her to do except go back to her father’s house. She swept the floor slowly to put it off as long as possible. The prospect of having to spend even a few hours in the company of her stepmother and sisters grated her nerves. Only then did she remember Jacalyn’s order to select a gown from the dress shop. An inward groan, and she quickly calculated that by the time she reached the shop, it would be closed. Perhaps tomorrow she would visit there, before coming to the hangar to finish cleaning up. Addie wouldn’t appreciate coming home to a mess. Finette hoped her friend would approve of her repairs to the flying machine.
In three weeks, the race would take place.
In two weeks, Jacalyn would hold the ball. A cold lump formed in her stomach. If only those two events could exchange dates, her mind would be eased. She gripped the wooden handle of the broom tighter and swept hard enough to raise a small dust cloud. At someone’s cough, she whirled.
There stood Sacha, waving away the dust. She’d never seen such a welcome sight. He must have halted his airship to the side of the hangar, out of view.
“Do you need some help?” he asked with a laugh.
She tossed away the broom and ran to him. Her first instinct to throw herself into his arms gave way to caution. “Yes.” But not with cleaning.
His humor disappeared. He stilled, and tension filled the air between them so thick, it kept her in check.
“Your wish is my command,” he whispered.
If only he had a flying carpet to whisk her away… but perhaps she had the next best thing. “Come with me on a test flight? I’ve finished repairing the aeroplane.”
“You did?” He shot his gaze to the flying machine, and strolled to its nose.
She heard his implied ‘already?’ and gave a satisfied smile. “I did.”
He ran a hand along its smoothed-out wing, bent to tug at the taut control wires running from the cockpit to the rear, and then jiggled the back rudder. Walking toward her, he fitted the spare goggles on his head. “Let’s go.”
“Really? You’re not in a rush to leave?” As many times as she’d walked through the pre-flight checks in her head, she had the procedure memorized and now ran through each one with a clockwork precision that helped steady her nerves.
He helped her push the aeroplane onto the air strip. “My crew is on leave for the night, so I’m all yours until tomorrow morning.” He settled back in the seat with his arms rested on the aeroplane’s sides and a crocodile smile on his face.
Tomorrow morning. Her stomach flipped, and threw off her concentration. “This flying machine will only remain aloft for eight or nine hours, depending.” After manually spinning the propeller to get it started, she listened to the sweet sound of the steam engine purring as she climbed inside the cockpit.
His low voice sounded close to her ear. “Then we may have to think of other ways to occupy our time together.”
Her breath faltered and her hand hovered near the levers. The myriad of ‘other ways’ running through her mind blocked all else from her vision.
He reached past her to guide her hand to the wheel. “We’ll think about that later.”
She nodded. Stay focused. Or there’d be no later for either of them, only a short, disastrous flight. Crippled for a second by doubt that clicked upward to sheer terror, she gripped the wheel pushed determination ahead of fear. This was the moment of truth, and she would not back down from it.
“Here we go,” she called over her shoulder. In a whirlwind of nauseous fright and giddy delight, she pushed the lever forward and the vessel glided ahead. Her stomach bottomed out, but the aeroplane lifted from the airstrip. Easing back the rudder control guided them higher and higher, until the landscape became a checkerboard below.
“We did it!” Finette whooped with laughter. The aeroplane moved with a decent, but not impressive, air speed. The tail rudder responded perfectly to the direction she moved the lever.
The rush of air in her face was heaven. The steam engine sputtered, and so did her heart. Wariness replaced delight and she snapped straight in the seat. “What happened?”
“Take her down.” Sacha spoke the command gently but with an urgency that further shook her.
Another sputter, and the aeroplane lurched into a low dip, the left wing suddenly rising in sharp contrast to the lowered right wing, threatening to overturn them. She bit back a screech and struggled to straighten the flying machine, and her thoughts.
“Hold her steady.” He sounded like he spoke to a skittish colt. “Lower her on your terms.”
She gripped the controls, the engine vibrations reverberating through her. At a small boom, she startled. Instead of steam, black smoke billowed from the engine.
“Good, keep going,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “Aim for the airstrip.”
The black line in the field below appeared so far away. She blanked her mind of everything but her training and eased the rudder forward, forcing the aeroplane to drift downward. Moments lasted hours. The ground rose up to bump the flying machine’s tires, and she made her arms like iron, holding the controls in place. With slow force, she applied the brakes. Once they skidded to a halt, she jumped out, knees shaking. She couldn’t bear to look Sacha in the eye.
He hopped out and wrapped her in his embrace. “You’re a fantastic aviator.”
“Except for the little mistake that could have killed us.”
“But it didn’t.” He touched the tip of her nose. “Why? Because…” He tilted his head and arched his brows, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
She tried not to roll her eyes. “Because I’m a blooming wonderful fly-girl.”
He winked. “A slight adjustment will solve the problem.”
With no enthusiasm, she gave a nod. “Of course. I’ll somehow fix it to fly faster, too.” And keep the engine operational.
“Are you ready to push it back into the hangar?”
The cavernous structure sat far from the aeroplane. She should have landed closer. Another amateur mistake.
She ducked her head and stepped behind a wing. “Ready.”
He positioned himself behind the opposite wing and pushed. Her tightly wound muscles gave her unexpected strength, and they reached the hangar sooner than she expected.
He twisted open the hatch and inspected the engine.
She couldn’t avert her gaze from the hard muscles across his back, visible beneath the silky fabric of his shirt. His physique was perfect. If she were a sculptress, she’d carve his likeness in marble. Capture every contour and ripple…
“There’s the problem. Hand me a wrench?”
His deep voice startled her from her thoughts, and she scrambled to find the right tool, then promptly dropped it and sheepishly held it out to him.
He smiled over his shoulder. “Merci.” He unscrewed a bolt, removed a tube and showed her the hole. “It must have been leaking fluid. Do you have another of these?”
A quick search produced an identical tube, which she handed to him. He expertly inserted it in place, tightened the bolt again. “Good as new.”
“Merci.” In her state, she’d probably have missed it.
H
e bowed his head, then assessed her. “Let’s walk together. To soothe your nerves.”
“My nerves are…” She met his skeptical gaze, and relented. “All right, I’m wound up tight as a spring.”
He offered her his elbow.
She linked arms with him. “It might be a very long stroll if our aim is to calm me.” An impossibility, with him touching her.
He threw his head back in a laugh, and his gold earring caught the rays of the late afternoon sun. “I will enjoy every step.”
“As will I.” Giddiness flooded her at remembering the flight. “I was flying.” A skip found its way into her gait, and she had to repress herself.
“There is no hope for you now. You are part of the sky.”
“It does feel that way.” But hopeless seemed the wrong word. Rather, she was hopeful. Finally, so filled with hope that it buoyed her up and kept her there. She hardly felt her feet on the ground. “There’s nothing like it.”
He made a noise of acknowledgement that she took to mean he didn’t quite agree. She opened her mouth, ready to ask what else, and then understanding hit her. He means making love. Her face flushed hot and she ducked her head. The heat lingered when she imagined how such intimacy would compare with flying. She stole a peek up at him.
He stared ahead, but grinned the moment she looked over, as if he felt her gaze on him.
“Sacha.”
“Finette.” He pronounced her name with relish, and the ‘t’ clicked in the air.
Her focus dropped to his lips, and the tongue and teeth that still held her name. She forced a sharp breath. “I must be imagining things.”
“I doubt that.”
“Then how are you so attuned to my thoughts, even before I speak? Are you pretending? Or is it some sort of Romanian magic? That’s it, isn’t it—you’re a world traveler, so it makes sense that you’ve acquired many skills.”
“Magic?” He chuckled, but his brow furrowed.
“Yes, a trick to read my mind.” That had to be the answer, no matter how Addie protested against it. The alternative frightened the wits from her.
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