As a girl, she'd harbored romantic dreams of finding a knight who would sweep her off her feet and end her loneliness, and what could be more wildly romantic than sailing off into the skies with him?
Averting her gaze, Eleanor smiled to herself, even while wondering how she could feel humor at a time like this.
“How far have we flown?” she asked to distract herself from worrying.
“It's hard to judge. I would guess ten miles or so, perhaps more.”
Another few minutes passed as they sank lower and lower. When they came closer to the treetops, Damon shut the valve for good.
“There, Elle… there's a meadow beyond that line of elms. I want to try to set down there.”
The grassy field was currently home to a small flock of grazing sheep, but Eleanor suspected Damon would attempt to maneuver past them. But then the balloon dropped so that they were barely skimming over the trees.
“We're too low-toss the ballast, Elle…”
Obeying quickly, she hefted one of the bags over the side of the basket.
Their craft bobbed back up a short way and cleared the treeline before starting to sink again.
“Another one. We're going down too fast.”
Again she did as she was bid, this time with better results. Their descent slowed to a safer speed.
“Now brace yourself, Elle,” Damon ordered. “And when we hit, try to absorb the impact with your knees.”
When she held tightly to the rim, he wrapped one arm around her from behind and grasped the basket's suspension ropes with his free hand.
The ground seemed to rush up at them, and Elea nor held her breath in apprehension.
It was indeed a hard, jarring landing, just as Damon had predicted. The basket struck with a jolt, then tilted and bumped along the ground as the balloon dragged them another dozen yards. When a contrary breeze struck, however, the silken mass lifted once more, causing the basket to suddenly right itself and then come to an abrupt halt.
With their own continued momentum, Eleanor and Damon went sprawling sideways, although he purposely took the brunt of the impact as they fell together on the floor.
They lay there unmoving, his arms wrapped around her, while overhead, the balloon slowly grew limp.
For a moment Damon simply stared at her. Eleanor could feel his heartbeat thudding against her breast, could see the fierce relief on his face, yet as the haunted glimmer in his eyes began to fade, she knew his concern had been for her, not himself.
Her own pounding heartbeat beginning to quiet, Eleanor let out her breath slowly. They had faced danger and survived unscathed.
Neither of them spoke a word. Then Damon's arms folded around her more tightly and his lips came crashing down on hers.
His unexpected action took away the breath she'd just reclaimed and caused a sweet shock of response in every part of her body. His kiss was hard and frenzied, expressing the almost desperate relief she had seen in his eyes.
Damon filled her mouth with his tongue, taking, demanding, igniting a burst of heat inside her so powerful, she felt weak with it. She returned his kiss avidly, though, eagerly fusing her lips to his, drinking him in like a woman dying of thirst.
To her dismay, Damon was the one to end their frantic embrace, although with obvious reluctance. Breaking off the scalding kiss, he drew back, and when he spoke, his voice was husky and raw. “Much as I would like to continue this for an eternity, it wouldn't be honorable to ravish you, Elle.”
“I suppose not,” she murmured, her own voice low and ragged.
From the expression on his face-part grimace, part hungry desire-she concluded that he was as painfully aroused and bereft as she was, and that he had only stopped for her sake.
“We need to find a farm or a village, borrow a carriage to take us home.”
“Yes,” Eleanor agreed halfheartedly. She couldn't bear for him to leave her just now. She didn't want to return home. Instead, she wanted to beg Damon for more of his smoldering kisses, wanted him to ease the relentless ache he had created in her, to assuage the heart-deep longing inside her.
When a shadow descended over them, they both glanced up. The balloon had deflated significantly by now, and yards of heavy silk had settled over the basket, blocking out the sunlight and cocooning them in a private haven.
It seemed to Eleanor as if it were some kind of sign from Providence.
“Damon… can we not stay here a while longer?”
His eyes locked with hers, his gaze smoldering and intent. Her body responded to the possessive, hungry masculinity in his eyes.
A yearning welled up deep inside her, something utterly primitive and poignant and wild. Her chest ached. Her breasts grew heavy, while a hot throbbing kindled low in her belly, between her thighs.
Urged on by her longing, Eleanor lifted her face to brush her lips softly over his, once… twice…
Damon responded just as she hoped; he groaned and covered her mouth again with his.
Their kiss was less fierce this time yet just as impassioned. Their tongues mated, sliding, stroking, dueling in a heated, urgent dance. In turn, Eleanor emitted a revealing whimper that spoke of desire and want and need. Emotion flooded her, the same heady joy she had once known with Damon so long ago. She ached for him feverishly, with a yearning that was too intense to bear.
The ravenous hunger for fulfillment had gone too long unsatisfied, but that would end here and now, Eleanor vowed. Her fingers reaching up to clutch at the dark waves of his hair, she eased away just enough to whisper against his lips.
“Damon… please.” Her plea was hoarse and breathless. “Make love to me.”
He pulled back to gaze solemnly at her, his eyes raptly searching her face.
Eleanor waited with bated breath, but Damon must have found whatever he was looking for in her expression, since a slow, soft smile spread across his lips.
That tantalizing smile warmed her like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud, and so did his reply.
“Yes,” he said at last, his rasping voice ripe with promise.
To be caught in a compromising position is perhaps the surest way to capture a husband-although I would not advise you to attempt employing so drastic a method. -An Anonymous Lady, Advice…
Eleanor's heart turned over at Damon's answer. She stared into his dark eyes, her body trembling. Time seemed to halt as his tenderness enveloped her.
Helplessly drawn to him, she raised her mouth to his once more. Yet this time his kiss was merely fleeting.
“There is no rush, love,” he murmured in response to her eagerness. “I want your first time to be unforgettably pleasurable.”
A quiet thrill coursed through Eleanor at his avowal. She had little doubt Damon would give her an experience to cherish.
Sitting up, he found the blanket and spread it out to make a soft bed, then made her kneel upon on it, facing him. Taking his time, he reached up to remove her bonnet, then her pelisse. Next he undid the fastenings at the back of her gown and drew down the bodice to expose her undergarments. Making short work of her chemise straps, he slowly stroked down her throat to the swells of her breasts pushed up by her corset. Another tremor ran through Eleanor, and when he freed the peaks to his ardent gaze, a new ache spiraled hot and delicious throughout her body.
Damon was watching the rapid rise and fall of her bare breasts, but then he bent his head. She inhaled a sharp breath as he drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking softly. The lush, wet pressure sent a shower of heat rushing to her feminine center.