Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(21)

As one of the horses began pulling their assigned machine their way, her aunt held out her arms. “Do give me a kiss, child.”

Rosalyn pressed her cheek against her aunt’s withered one. “You’re only going swimming, Auntie. It’s not as if we’re parting forever.”

Her aunt pinched her cheeks, her eyes misting. “My sweet, sweet girl. I love you so.”

Rosalyn frowned, slightly concerned. “Auntie?” Her aunt rarely shed tears.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Lady Sarah rolled her eyes. “We shall meet soon.”

“You’re just going for a swim,” Rosalyn replied dryly.

Her aunt laughed, then looped her arm through Hettie’s as a particularly large woman stepped from around the bathing machine, dressed in a black bathing costume. It had to be Martha. Rosalyn watched her in wonder as she bundled the two elderly women into the machine and they set off.

“The machines are quite the contraption,” a low, musical voice murmured from her side.

Rosalyn jerked and glanced over to see a slim young woman by her side, her face hidden by the surfeit of feathers drooping from her hat. Slowly, she lifted her head. It was Lady Elana, looking as faultless as ever in a pale blue muslin gown with an immaculately embroidered neckline and a light, lacy shawl.

“My lady.” Rosalyn swallowed.

“How delightful to see you again, Rosalyn,” Lady Elana greeted with a warm smile.

Rosalyn stared at her numbly then spoke in a rush. “I sent you a letter—”

“Ah yes, I received it.” Lady Elana patted her reticule. “It is precisely why I have come.”

Rosalyn averted her eyes. “I’ve made quite the mess of it all. I confess, I am quite ashamed—”

“Nonsense, Rosalyn,” Lady Elana interrupted. She laid her gloved fingers on Rosalyn’s arm. “It is I and Stirling who have a confession to make.”

Stirling? Rosalyn frowned.

Lady Elana’s eyes began to twinkle. “I’m beyond pleased how highly you’ve scored the man and that you believe he is worthy of a bride.”

The word ‘bride’ stabbed Rosalyn’s heart. Surely, the woman knew such words tortured her now?

Lady Elana leaned forward. “I never told you the bride-to-be because I wanted you to see Ethan for who he was.” She paused and then laughed. “My dear, the chosen bride is none other than yourself.”

Rosalyn stared at her blankly.

“Your aunt and Stirling knew from the start.” Lady Elana explained. “We could see you and Ethan were a perfect pair, even matching in stubbornness.” She nodded her chin over Rosalyn’s shoulder. “Isn’t that Ethan’s balloon, my dear?”

Rosalyn whirled, her heart skipping a beat.

Behind the line of trees, a short distance down the beach, she could see the red silk canopy of Ethan’s balloon as it filled with air. He was leaving? Without saying goodbye? It was hypocritical to feel slighted at the thought, but she couldn’t deny she did.

Rosalyn turned toward Lady Elana, but the woman was gone. Rosalyn scanned the area, but with no sign of Lady Elana, she faced the balloon.

It continued to rise.

With a sinking heart, she raced to the edge of a small clearing where a crowd of observers gathered around several men who worked with the balloon. She spotted Ethan at once, so tall and handsome in a dark blue coat and gray breeches.

A strange mixture of guilt and anger washed over her. Yes, she’d been ready to rush off without a proper farewell, but it hurt that he might do the same.

The balloon’s basket began to lift from the ground as the canopy billowed. The men shouted and adjusted the bags of sand and inspected the tether lines. Rosalyn picked up her skirts and pushed through the crowd, even though she knew there was little chance she would catch him in time. The balloon’s wicker basket lifted off, and a cheer rose from the crowd. They surged forward, obscuring her view.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her waist from behind. She whirled and gasped to find Ethan smiling down at her. She froze, torn between the desire to throw her arms around his neck and the urge to be angry.

He opened his mouth and shouted, but the roar of the crowd ripped his words away. Then, with a sly twinkle in his eye, he tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and strode through the crowd.

Her heart pounded like a drum as the crowd parted to form a path to the balloon, and as the red silk canopy rose magnificently above her, she found herself hefted into the wicker basket. The next moment, Ethan hopped in at her side. The crowd cheered. Ethan gave a shrill whistle, and the lines fell free and the basket creaked as the balloon launched into the sky. Rosalyn gripped the handrails in wonder as the balloon skated over the heads of the crowd and then up and over the treetops beyond.

“It’s amazing,” she gasped.

A gust of wind caught her hair and she held it back with one hand as she craned her head in wonder at the sky above, then back to the quickly receding ground below. She felt like a bird, skimming above the grass, the rush of the wind tangling her hair.

She noticed Ethan, who ignored the wonder around him to stare only at her.

All at once, she felt shy. “I thought you were leaving without saying goodbye,” she confessed.

A smile tugged the corner of his lips. “I’ve given my balloon over to Sadler. I’m done with flying. I have other things on my mind.”