Page 59 of What a Scot Wants
“Then do it,” Ronan growled, aware of more shouting on the ground. All he could focus on, however, was Imogen, her panicked face looking over her shoulder, searching for him.
“Ronan, I can’t hold on! My gloves—” She screamed again as a second cracking sound resonated and the basket rose at an even more perilous angle. Another rope had to have come loose. The pilot cried out as he fell backward, landing hard against the basket wall, as Ronan had earlier.
His heart seized when he saw Imogen, her fingers slipping from the basket, her feet and legs now dangling off the floor completely. If she fell… At this angle, the wall that had caught Ronan and the pilot might not be enough to catch her.
“Ronan!”
He reached for her, barely able to touch her ankle.
“Get this bloody thing onto the ground!” he shouted to the pilot, but the man was crumpled against the basket’s inner wall, clinging to his shoulder with a look of agony on his face.Shite.
“Imogen, lass, hold on. I ken ye can do it. I’ll get us down,” Ronan said, reaching out instead for the metal rods of the cage that held the burner into the center of the basket. “Tell me what to do,” he shouted to the pilot, who was still conscious. Thank God.
“Pull the controlling line—it leads to the vent lines.”
Ronan searched for a line that lead down from the mouth of the balloon. He found it and tugged. The basket dropped, though not quickly enough.
“I’m slipping,” Imogen rasped, squeezing her eyes shut. “You said I wouldn’t die a horrible and painful death!”
Ronan cursed himself and his bloody idea but refused to panic. “I said I wouldnae let anything happen to ye, and that hasnae changed. Look at me, Imogen.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I’ll land this sodding thing one way or another, but ye’ve got to hold on. Trust me.”
Her eyes glittered, but the hysteria in them subsided as she held his stare. She nodded, and Ronan exhaled. She was placing her trust in him, and he couldn’t fail her. The balloon descended, their speed increasing. Ronan kept a hold of the line opening the vents and maneuvered his way toward Imogen. If her fingers came loose, he needed to be closer in order to have a better chance at catching her.
“The ground’s getting closer,” he said.
“Too fast,” the pilot replied. “We need to slow down. Release the line.”
Ronan did as instructed, keeping watch on Imogen’s grip all the while.
“I’m never stepping foot in another flying contraption again,” she called.
“Ye say that now,” he replied, angling himself directly underneath her. “Once this is over ye’ll remember nothing but the thrill of it.”
“Thrill? You’re mad!”
He checked over his shoulder and saw the ground rushing at them. “Hold on, lass,” he called, preparing for the impact.
“Iamholding on!”
The basket landed, hard, and Imogen lost her grip. Ronan caught her as she fell, though they were already leveling out. Ronan tucked her close, trying to cushion her landing. They dropped onto the floor of the basket with awhump, the air nearly driven from his lungs, his head rattling a bit. Shouting voices approached as the silken balloon collapsed around the basket, shrouding the three of them.
“Are ye injured?” Ronan asked, running his hands down her arms and over her head, her pinned hat askew.
She blinked and tried to sit up. “I…I don’t think so. My God, that was terrifying.”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, my lady,” the operator said, still clutching at his arm as he stood and the balloon was peeled aside by the other men. “The stakes were hammered in deep, but the wind was worse than we predicted.”
Ronan helped Imogen to her feet, her arms and legs shaking. He swept her up into his arms, cradling her, and handed her over the edge, back onto solid ground.
“You’re not shaken,” she said, observing him as color rushed back into her blanched cheeks.
“We’re on the ground, safe, just as I promised ye,” he replied, keeping to himself the fact that his pulse had nearly stopped when he’d seen her hanging perilously.
“Yes, I…” Imogen pressed her lips together, going pale again. Her cheeks billowed out, and Ronan leaped out of the way seconds before she vomited onto the grass.
He rubbed her back and handed her the handkerchief in his pocket.
She whipped it from him and stepped aside. “I’d like to go home now.”
