"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." From another pouch, he selected several of the thick wicks he had fashioned to fit his bottles. Normally, the wicks would already be mounted in the containers but today he had not planned anything more than a quick ascent, short and simple and private. He'd considered not even inflating the balloon today given the low cover of the clouds. Even so, at the moment, he was grateful he'd filled the bottles.

"Although we never flew freely like this, did we? I do not recall ever going farther than the end of a rope. It is an entirely different sensation altogether."

Fifteen bottles were arranged in a circular cluster, somewhat broader in diameter than a wine bottle. Once he inserted the wicks, he planned to light the five that comprised the innermost section. He could see a clearing in the distance and they would not need much additional heat to provide the lift necessary to reach it.

"And the winds in Paris always seemed so calm." She moaned.

He tugged a bottle free from its carriage and it nearly flew out of his hands. Unease gripped him. The bottle was far lighter than it should have been. He jerked out the cork, leaned over the side and carefully upended the bottle. No more than a drop trickled out. Quickly he checked the rest of the containers. Each and every one had been drained.

"This just gets better and better," he said, more to himself than to her.

"Matthew?"

"In a minute."

He needed to think, calmly and rationally. And while he fully expected Tatiana to be calm and rational as well, who knew how the turmoil in her stomach would effect her ability to be either calm or rational? Now was not the time for emotional outbursts.

They were not in dire straits yet, but their situation was not particularly good. They were moving at a high altitude, at a brisk speed and he had no idea exactly where they were. They could be miles from Effington Hall or literally just down the road. The balloon was descending, but slowly; that was in their favor. On the other hand, the sun would soon set, and that presented their biggest problem.

"Matthew?" Tatiana's voice rose.

If he didn't put the balloon down before dusk, there would not be enough light to land safely.

"Do any of your Avalonian traditions involve luck?"

"None that come to mind." She scrambled to her feet, grabbing the rail with one hand and clutching her stomach with the other.

"This would be the appropriate time to invent one."

"Why do we need luck?"

"We have no fuel to heat the air in the balloon and we are descending. However, we are also moving quickly. If we are extremely lucky"-he blew a frustrated breath-"we will travel fast enough to miss the trees below us and land in the clearing beyond."

She stared at him as though he were insane. "No fuel? Why not? Is that not, well, stupid?"

"It would be if I had planned on traveling across the country," he said sharply. "All I had intended to do was go up and come back down, never straying farther than the end of a rope. This, my dear princess, can be laid firmly at your feet."

"My feet?" Her eyes widened with indignation. "This is your balloon. I have nothing to do with it."

"The fact that my bottles have been emptied, when I filled them myself, means the fact that the tether was not secured, something else I checked personally, is no accident. Coupled with the destruction of your room and the missing letter means someone else is looking for your blasted jewels. And if you had seen fit to tell me the truth before now, I would have taken the proper precautions." His voice rose. "As it is, we do not even have bags of sand on board for ballast."

"I am not to blame because you are unprepared!"

He gritted his teeth. "I am not unprepared for what was planned, only for the circumstances we now find ourselves in."

"Perhaps they can put that on our gravestones!" Her voice was sharp, edged with anger and probably fear. "If they can find our bodies!"