It was the most wonderful day. And it was barely half over.
Jane had hurried to change, throwing on her least worn day dress, a gown in a color her mother had deemed not suitable for a debutante, so she’d seldom worn it.
It was in a pale blue, definitely not shocking, but also definitely not white, which was the only color, according to Lady Capel, that a young unmarried lady should wear.
Jane had grown to loathe wearing white.
It signified everything wrong about her situation—it indicated that she was available to wed, that she was planning on a future of nothing but agreeing with her spouse and bearing children. Occasionally being allowed to visit a friend for tea.
That was the future that had been in store for her when she was engaged to Mr. McTavish. At the time, she’d wanted that future, because she believed him when he said he loved her.
But his purported love didn’t even withstand a mild scandal, and she was glad she had found out the truth about him before they had married.
The day was warm enough not to need a cloak, and she had taken a few minutes to find a parasol that nearly matched the gown, as well as put in her favorite earrings, a gift from Lavinia.
The three left the house, Mr. Sharpe quickly hailing a hansom, though he refused—once again—to reveal where they were going.
Jane was beginning to realize she liked surprises. Especially when they involved Mr. Sharpe.
Though she really should refer to him as Thomas, if only in her head. They had kissed, after all. His hand had been on her breast. She had made noises she had never made before.
Surely that would indicate a certain amount of familiarity.
“Where are we going, Sharpe?” Percy asked for perhaps the hundredth time.
She didn’t think Percy liked surprises.
“Patience,” Thomas replied. He shot a quick glance at Jane, his wry smile indicating what he thought of Percy’s continual questioning.
Thomas peered out the window of the hansom, leaning back as the carriage slowed. “We are here,” he declared.
“Finally,” an exasperated Percy said, even though it had been only about ten minutes.
Thomas stepped out first, turning to hold his hand up to help Jane out. She took his fingers in hers, the contact—since neither of them were wearing gloves—sending a shiver up her spine.
He gave her a knowing smile, as though fully aware of how she felt.
Because he felt it, too?
Dear lord, she hoped so.
Percy, still muttering under his breath, got out as well, and the hansom pulled away, leaving them in front of a set of gates that seemed to open into a park.
“We’re going to look at flowers?” Percy said in a dubious tone of voice.
“Wait and see,” Thomas said, taking Jane’s arm and wrapping it around his. She was tucked in snugly against his side, and she felt her breath hitch at the contact.
“Oh!” she gasped, as they went through the gates. Percy was making similar noises behind her.
The gates’ structure made it difficult to see inside, but once they had entered, Jane’s eyes widened at everything she saw—it was a vast array of pleasures, from a row of vendors selling items such as foodstuffs, flowers, toys, and ribbons, to booths with signs proclaiming their owners’ extravagant claims: Fortunes Read and Guaranteed! High-Flying Acrobatics That Will Dazzle You!
And one that made Jane’s eyes widen. She tightened her hold on Thomas with one hand while pointing with the other. “Look! Over there! Balloon rides!”
He chuckled, looking down at her with what could only be described as a warm expression. “You are daring enough to hop into one of those contraptions?”
Her heart was in her throat at the thought, but what kind of determined adventurer would she be if she wasn’t . . . adventurous? “Yes, absolutely,” she said firmly.
“I refuse to go up in one of them,” Percy said. He was walking on her other side, just as enchanted by what they were seeing. It wasn’t a gathering of economics experts, but it was apparently just as enticing.
“What about you?” she asked Thomas, raising her eyebrow in challenge.
His lips twisted slyly. “Are you daring me?”
“I suppose I am,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “Are you accepting the dare?”
“Yes, my lady. I am.”
Well. She was actually going to do this, wasn’t she? Something she didn’t know was possible five minutes ago.
And she was going to do it with him.
She smothered a giggle as she realized those same thoughts could be applied to other things she was going to do with him.
“I’ll wait for you safely here,” Percy said, veering off the path to step up to a vendor selling ale. “Please do not die,” he added, sounding only halfway joking.
“We’ll try,” Jane replied. “Not to die, that is,” she added hastily.
Percy grimaced in response.
“Shall we?” Thomas asked, gesturing toward the area where a few balloons were landed. There was a queue, she could see, and there were a few balloons overhead, low enough so she could hear the excited exclamations from the passengers.
“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice firm. She was terrified, of course, because she had never done anything like this before, but that was precisely why she should do it.
And she’d get to do it with him.
A bonus: if she was too scared to look down, she could stare at his handsome face.
“Are you satisfied thus far with where I’ve taken you?”
They were standing about five places back in the line, just behind a large family with several children scrambling about. The mother—a tall Black woman with an elaborate hat and a commanding way of speaking—was able to corral her offspring with just a few words. Her husband, meanwhile, was listening as someone who seemed to be his eldest son explained the mechanics behind ballooning.
“I am.” She certainly never would have come to such a place on her own. She appreciated the opportunity to mingle with people who weren’t the same fifty or so people—or so it seemed—that she encountered during the Social season. People who kept their distance from her, since she was now a scandal, but not so distant as to offend, since she was still a duchess’s sister. It left her in an odd Societal limbo, where she was accepted to a point, but still regarded with some suspicion.
Because if she could refuse to follow along with her mother’s plans, perhaps other young ladies would follow her example? Or just that it was outside of what they expected from someone they knew?
Thank goodness none of them suspected what she was currently up to. She smiled to herself as she looked around at her surroundings.
“The gas is lighter than the air, you see, so when the tethers are undone, the balloon can rise.”
“And how does it get back down?” the father asked.
Jane eavesdropped shamelessly as the son continued. “The balloonist releases some of the gas from the balloon, and the weight of it and its passengers help bring it back down.”
She leaned forward to speak to the son. “Thank you for explaining—this will be my first time.”
“You are welcome,” the father said. “My George is very interested in science. He is always dragging us to see the newest technology.” His tone indicated just how proud he was of his son, even while seeming to complain.
“My friend is very interested in trying new things herself,” Thomas said, nodding toward Jane.
“Have you been to the whale bone exhibit?” George asked them eagerly.
“No, not yet,” Jane said. “What is that?”
“They’ve found a whale skeleton, and you can go inside it and walk around, as though you are actually inside a whale!” the young man replied.
“I’ve never thought about being inside a whale before,” Jane said with a smile.
“Which is the best reason to go, I’d think,” Thomas said, glancing down at her. “There are so many things to do that you don’t know about, and it is my task to show you.”
She felt her breath catch at his words, at his promise that he would fulfill his task.
And that she would fulfill hers, convincing Society that Mr. Sharpe would be a good husband.
But only after he had done everything he’d promised.
The wait for the balloon wasn’t that terrible, especially once Jane continued her conversation with the family in front of them. The eldest son, George, was a budding scientist, and shared his knowledge of the balloons with enthusiasm, leaving Thomas to watch her face as she listened.
She had the most expressive face he’d ever seen—every emotion she felt was reflected in her smile, her narrowed eyes, her faint wrinkle of her nose. He had long ago learned to hide his feelings behind his smooth facade, and he envied her joy in even the little things in life—meeting new people, for example, or seeing a circus, or sharing a kiss in a carriage.
Though that last wasn’t a little thing.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since it happened, wondering just why it felt so different from all the other kisses he’d shared with other beautiful ladies.
Perhaps because it wasn’t an inevitability that they would end up in bed? That the kissing was just a precursor? Or that she was so responsive, so engaged in what she was doing. Likely not thinking about anything but the kiss.
“Mr. Sharpe?” she said, sounding amused. “It is our turn.”
“Oh of course,” Thomas replied, digging in his pocket for the fee.
“I can take care of this,” she said, holding her hand up in a stop gesture. “I don’t think you would be going up if it weren’t for my desire.”
“True in more than just this situation,” he replied in a low tone, watching as her cheeks turned pink. She took care of the payment, and then they were stepping inside the balloon, the engineer busy with the various ropes and bags that would help their ascent.
“Are you ready?” he asked. He wished he could kiss her now, in fact, kiss the pink in her cheeks before moving to her mouth, which was slightly open with excitement.
“I am,” she replied. “I think.”
The engineer stopped fussing with things to explain what they’d already heard from George—about the bags of sand, and the releasing of the gas, and that they wouldn’t go too high, so the trip would be perfectly safe.
And then they were aloft.
They stood together against the edge of the balloon basket, the engineer on the other side.
They were only a few feet up, and she was already gasping in pleasure at the sights below.
It was remarkable; he’d never thought particularly much about what birds saw, for example, or how one’s perspective could change based on where one was in the world.
Though he’d had to face the latter often enough since his father had lost his fortune. But at least this view was better than his own future.
“Look down there!” she exclaimed, pointing. “Percy! He’s waving at us.”
She waved enthusiastically in reply, so enthusiastically she stumbled. Thomas wrapped his arm around her within seconds, justifying his touch as needing to steady her, even though she was in no danger of falling.
She pressed into his side, looking up at him with a smile. As though she was pleased he was holding her.
The only person who could see them now was the engineer, and it wasn’t likely he would pay enough attention to them or gossip about their behavior, so it was safe up here.
“Nobody can see us, Jane,” he murmured. “Except for him,” he said, nodding toward the engineer. “And he can’t hear us.” He tightened his grip on her waist. “Do you remember when I mentioned anticipation?” He was playing a dangerous game, he knew that. Not with her, but with himself—his cock was already hardening at the images playing themselves over in his mind, and he knew that whatever happened between them would change him irrevocably. Whether for better or for worse, it wouldn’t matter. Because he’d be saying “for better or for worse” to someone else. That was the truth of it.
“Yes,” she replied, her tone as low as his.
“And then we kissed. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss, Jane.” He spread his fingers wide at her waist, his index finger stretching to the underside of her breast. His pinky finger resting on top of her hip. “About sliding my tongue into your mouth. About how you opened for me, and how your fingers gripped my hair. I liked that a lot, Jane. I liked how you explored. I want you to explore more. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Her tone was strained, and she had melted into his side. She was holding on to the edge of the balloon basket with her left hand, in front of his body, but she released her hold to take his hand, squeezing his fingers.
He edged his fingers up so that they were on top of her breast. The engineer couldn’t see what was happening, since he was crouched down at the other end of the basket, and they were facing out. He paused, long enough to allow her to reject his touch if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to.
Instead, she gave a soft moan and held his hand tighter. He shifted to put her body more in front of his, which had the benefit of placing his erection right near her arse.
He wondered what she would do if he bit her there. Right on her sweet arse as his fingers played with her soft, wet warmth. Rubbing the tiny bud of her clitoris as he licked his way toward her pussy. Savoring—anticipating—putting his mouth on her, tasting her, bringing her to climax.
Fuck, he was so hard.
“Touch me, Thomas,” she urged, pushing herself back against him.
“Do you feel what you do to me, sweet Jane?”
She nodded as his fingers stroked her breast, finding the sharp, taut bud of her nipple beneath the fabric of her gown.
“Are you wet, Jane?” he asked. “Down there, I mean?”
She nodded again, pushing back harder against him. He shook her fingers off his left hand, moving it to the juncture of her thighs. He pressed the heel of his hand into her, and she made a strangled noise of pleasure. He could feel how tightly drawn her body was, as though concentrating entirely on what he was doing.
He wished he could yank up the skirts of her gown and sink his fingers into her, but the engineer would most definitely notice if there was skirt yanking. He’d have to work outside of her clothing. A challenge, but not impossible.
He ran his fingers around the shape of her, his mind’s eye figuring out where every part of her was, sliding his fingers up and down her mound, pressing his hand into her.
“Do you like that, Jane?” he asked, speaking softly into her ear.
“Mmm-hmm.”
His cock was so hard as to be painful, and he pressed against her, finding a tiny amount of relief at the contact of her arse and his penis.
“I am going to make you fly, Jane. More than you are already. Do you want that?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“Tell me.”
“I want you to make me fly,” she said, emphasizing her words with her shifting back harder against him. She learned quickly. “I want you—”
“I want you to make me come,” he supplied.
“I want you to make me come. No,” she said, making his heart stop for a moment. “No, I demand that you make me come.”
He growled at her words, stroking her in a strong rhythm as he listened and felt her reaction—what she liked best, where she responded. He could feel her body stiffen, hear her soft moans, until she gasped and her breath caught and he knew she was climaxing, could tell by how her body shook and how tightly she was gripping the edge of the balloon.
“Oh my,” she said, when she had stopped shaking.
“That was beautiful,” he said. “You are beautiful. I wish I could have seen your face as you came.”
“Oh my,” she said again. Her breathing was ragged.
“Do you like flying?” he asked, shifting slightly away from her. He could feel that the balloon was descending, and he wanted to make sure they looked nearly appropriate when they reached the ground. That meant he’d have to think about some of Percy’s economic theorems, or recall what the young man had said about balloons and gas and how it all worked.
Not about how responsive she was, and how much he wanted to break her apart again.
“I do,” she replied, twisting her head to look at him. She wore a satisfied expression, one more knowing than he’d seen on her face before. Because he was teaching her, instructing her just what pleasure could be had, even through layers of clothing and a random man doing scientific-type things behind them.
What could he do if they were alone?
The balloon bumped the ground as they landed, jostling them together. He steadied her, wrapping his arms around her back and holding on to the edge of the basket so she was effectively trapped in his arms.
“Thank you,” she said in a soft, low voice. She met his gaze again, smiling as though she was a cat who had just had all the cream. “That was most instructive.”
“It was.” And for him as well—he hadn’t known he would want, so desperately, to make a woman climax until her. He did it, of course, because he was an unselfish lover, but it had never felt like such a need before.
He needed her.
Which was the last thing he needed, honestly. He’d have to make certain she didn’t know anything about his deepening feelings—he owed it to her to keep his distance so her future wouldn’t be tainted like his.
The engineer swung the door to the balloon open, and Thomas stepped out, wishing they could have just flown up into the clouds and never come back.
But he always had to come down to earth, didn’t he.
It was all worth it, though. To bring her that pleasure now was worth every moment of agony at knowing her pleasure wasn’t his future.