The Princess & the Pea (5 page)

Jared raised a dubious brow. "Do you really want to know?"

"Oh my, yes," Cece nodded eagerly.

"Don't get him started." Quentin warned.

Jared ignored his partner. "We began working with steam power. It's been tried for years and is moderately successful, but boilers tend to be cumbersome and heavy. Frankly, I think steam is outdated. Then we considered electricity. Battery-powered vehicles." He warmed to his subject and his words came faster, his tone intense.

Cece tried to concentrate on his words, but her mind kept getting lost, watching the movement of his mouth. What sort of man had a mouth like that anyway? Lips that were neither too full nor too thin. Kissed with a pale burgundy blush and corners that betrayed a propensity to smile.

"Some designers have had moderate success running off a battery for as much as thirty miles. But again, you run into a weight and space problem. So we discarded that in favor of this."

Something about his enthusiasm stirred her, wrapped excitement around her, like the silken ribbon on an unexpected present, and left her breathless. Jared gestured at the exposed motor, the movement pulling the fabric of his shirt taut across the muscles of his broad chest.

"We're using petrol for fuel. There are a number of problems we have yet to work out. We are still undecided on whether to use one or two cylinders, but the beauty of this idea is that, in a strictly practical way of course, the ..."

It was interesting in a wonderfully boring sort of way. But she'd lost herself in the far more fascinating way his strong, expressive hands seemed to caress the lines and edges of his vehicle like a sweetheart. Far more appealing was the supple power apparent in the length of arm revealed beneath the rolled-up sleeves and the way his shirt opened wide at the collar for a tantalizing glimpse of muscled chest. And far more exciting was the rich timbre of his voice, the deeply textured tones that seemed to reverberate in the stable and wrap around her very soul.

But it was his eyes that held her spellbound. As dark blue as the sky at midnight and just as endless, they flashed with a fire spurred by imagination, a passion born of creativity. This was no insipid English lord, no down on his luck aristocrat willing to sell his title for financial security. This was a man destined by sheer force of will alone to make his mark on the world. A man well worthy of loyalty and respect and love. If, of course, she believed in love.

"... and the French are doing a bang-up job, making great strides. There's a road race in Paris in two weeks. We're not entered, but I shall be there just to get an idea of their progress."

"Paris? Two weeks?" Cece cast him her sweetest smile. "What a marvelous coincidence. We'll be in Paris in two weeks."

"Paris?" Confusion stamped Emily's face. "I thought we were next going to L—" A sharp jab to her ribs stopped her in midsentence.

"Paris." Cece said quickly. "Paris first, then London."

"Of course." Emily glared. "How foolish of me to forget."

"I'm certain it simply slipped your mind." Cece threw her a swift, appeasing glance, then returned her attention to Jared. "You've explained how it's supposed to work, but does it?"

"Naturally it works." Quentin said with a huff of wounded pride.

A slow smile spread across Jared's face. "Would you care to see for yourself?"

Excitement surged through her. "A ride?" He nodded. "I'd love it." She turned to her sister. "Emily?"

"No, thank you." Emily shook her head vehemently. "I should think the most difficult horse alive preferable to that metallic beast."

Cece sighed tolerantly. "Em, you have absolutely no sense of adventure." Cece often wondered how the same parents could have raised such different daughters. Her sister's nature was no doubt the product of the finishing school both girls had at one time attended, although Cece had resisted all attempts to mold her own character into something considered more acceptable. And obviously Cece had shirked her duties as an older sister and failed to show her sibling life was far more interesting when one was not as concerned with behavior as excitement. She definitely needed to do something about that.

Emily crossed her arms over her chest. "Perhaps not, but I have a highly developed sense of safety." She eyed the vehicle skeptically. "Is that safe?"

Quentin and Jared exchanged glances.

"Relatively." Jared said.

"More or less." Quentin added.

"I suspected as much." Emily stared pointedly at Cece. "Are you certain you want to risk your neck in that thing?"

"This is to be my first venture in a horseless carriage and I—"

"Automobile." Jared said.

Cece pulled her brows together in confusion. "Pardon me?"

"We call it an automobile." He pronounced the word slowly, as if he was unaccustomed to its sound. "Or a motor car."

"I see. Automobile." She rolled the word around in her mind. "How appropriate. Very well. This is my first venture in an automobile and I'm not going to miss it." Cece extended a hand to Jared. "Mr. Grayson?"

He took her hand and helped her into the vehicle. His innocent touch sent a current of lightning skating up her arm and down her spine.

"It's Jared," he said firmly, gazing into her eyes.

"Jared," she repeated, noting with surprise the somewhat airy quality of her voice. She drew a steadying breath that even to her own ears sounded more like a sigh, and reluctantly withdrew her hand. "Since we are obviously not going to be formally introduced ..." She tossed Quentin a look of chastisement.

He groaned. "I hate formal introductions."

"Apparently." Jared sank down beside her. The seat was small, with barely enough room for the two of them, and her hip crushed against his in a most intriguing manner. She smiled. "If it's Jared, men you must call me Cece."

He regarded her for a long moment and nodded, as if she had somehow passed some kind of test. "It suits you."

"I know," she said primly.

"No introductions. No chaperons. First names." Emily released an exasperated sigh. "This is all so completely improper."

"Well, it just seems to me that modern inventions require modern behavior, not old-fashioned rules," Cece glanced at Jared. "Don't you agree?"

"Indeed," he said solemnly.

"You'd best put these on." Quentin handed her a heavy pair of leather and glass goggles.

She struggled into the cumbersome eyewear. "What are these for?"

Jared too sported a pair of the ungainly glasses. "Bugs," he said, his manner matter of fact.

"I'm so glad I asked." She cocked her head to one side and surveyed the odd picture he presented. "You look quite a bit like a frog in those. It suits you."

He laughed. "I know. Ready?"

"Ready." Her voice rang with confidence, but her heart fluttered in her throat. Excitement sparred with apprehension. After all, she had never ridden in a beast like this before.

Quentin carried a large metal crank and stepped to the front of the automobile. Like the wind-up key to a child's toy, he inserted the crank and turned it.

The contraption shivered and coughed and sputtered like an old man with the ague. She tensed in anticipation. Perhaps this was indeed a folly. Perhaps she should get out now while there was still time. Perhaps ... it was already too late.

With a roar, the machine sprang to life. Jared skillfully manipulated three metal tillers that rose from the floor between his long legs. The vehicle lurched forward and out through the stable doors.

The noise was unbelievable, the ride jolting and, except for the inadvertent contact of his body with hers, distinctly uncomfortable. Cece gritted her teeth. A lesser woman would no doubt be cowering in terror by this time. She was made of sterner stuff and determined to show no fear and enjoy the frightful ride.

"How do you like it?" Jared's yell was barely audible above the clamor of the machine.

"It's lovely," she screamed.

He nodded and smiled.

After a few moments the automobile settled into an even gait. The ride smoothed and Cece relaxed enough to survey the scenery. They were on an overgrown country lane not substantially more than a footpath. On one side, a meadow fell away in a gentle downward slope. At the bottom, a charming pond glittered like a sapphire in a lush, green setting. It was a lovely, bucolic scene, pastoral and peaceful. And best of all, for the first time in her life, Cece saw it without having to peer around the backside of a horse.

Exhilaration filled her. "This is wonderful!"

Jared grinned. "Do you want to try it?" he yelled.

"Buy it?" What on earth did he mean? Of course she didn't want to buy this thing.

"No, no." He shook his head violently and bellowed. "I said try it. Drive it. Do you want to drive?"

"Hive? What hive?" She glanced about quickly. Why was he talking about bees? She didn't see any hives.

He pulled his brows together and shook his head again. "Put your hands here."

She strained to catch his words. "Where?"

"Here." He patted the middle lever. "On this tiller."

She tried to place her hand where he indicated but couldn't seem to reach.

"Wait." Jared hollered. He slid closer and slipped an arm around her. Her back pressed firmly against his hard chest. His arms wrapped around her. His mouth lingered a bare few inches from her ear. He took her hands in his and placed them on the levers between his legs.
Dear Lord, her hands were between his legs!
"This is how to control the machine...."

She tried to concentrate on his words.

"... use this lever to ..."

Did his heart beat against her or was that just the tremble of the vehicle?

"... the turning mechanism ..."

Did his skin seem unusually hot, or was that just the warmth of the motor?

"... to the right shift ..."

Did his lips brush her ear, or was that just the wind in her hair?

"... now it's all yours."

Without warning, his hands left hers and she searched her mind frantically. What did he say? Something about one lever doing this and another doing that? What on earth was she supposed to do? Why hadn't she paid attention? What was it he had done? Pushed this lever that way?

She pulled a deep breath, closed her eyes and pushed the center tiller.

At once the motorized beast swerved sharply, plunged off the road and careened wildly down the hillside that no longer seemed a placid slope but a precipitous mountain.

"What are you doing?" Jared yelled and struggled to regain control of the unchecked vehicle. "Let me get—"

With a jolt that cracked her teeth together, the machine hit a hole or a rock or something unknown and they were airborne. Seconds stretched to eternity, and Cece muttered a silent prayer, vowing to curb her impulsive tendencies and learn to embroider like Emily if only given a second chance.

The vehicle landed hard and bounced once, then again. Cece held on for dear life, one hand gripping the carriage seat. Instinctively she reached for Jared with the other and grabbed—nothing.

He was gone.

"Jared!" She screamed and twisted on the seat until she knelt facing back the way they'd come. Her panicked gaze searched the hillside and finally found Jared running after her. His lips moved, but she couldn't hear a word.

"What?" No doubt her call was effort wasted. Surely he could hear her no better than she could hear him. Her only hope lay in mastering the controls of this renegade beast. She swiveled forward and stared at the meager display of levers and not much else. How had Jared worked this thing? Should she try this? Or that? She had to do something. It was not as if she could make things much worse.

Cece glanced up and stared in frightened fascination. Directly before her loomed a boulder. Small as boulders went, she was still fairly certain it could devastate the carriage and anything or anyone in it. Decisively, she reached forward, grabbed the right lever with one hand, the left with the other, gritted her teeth, closed her eyes once again and pushed.

Perhaps it was her actions, perhaps she indeed hit the oncoming rock: whatever the case, the runaway vehicle groaned and shuddered and jerked. Her hands were ripped from the levers and she flew through the air for a long, endless moment.

With an icy splash she landed, sank hard beneath the water, smacked the bottom with her posterior and bounced back to the surface. She pulled herself to her feet, drenched and gasping for breath, grateful the pond was barely waist deep.

"Are you injured?" Jared splashed through the water to reach her, a hint of fear shading his eyes, an oddly strained tone in his voice. On the side of the slope, Quentin ran toward them. Emily laboring to keep up.

"Only my pride," she said, pulling the askew goggles off her dripping, sodden hair and peering sheepishly at him. There was a look of fierce panic on his face she found out of place, and she unexpectedly felt the need to reassure him as she smiled ruefully.

He seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, his obvious concern replaced by amusement. He cocked his head and surveyed her thoughtfully. "Now, who looks like a frog?"

Speechless, Cece stared for a long moment until she noted the twinkle in his eye and the smile tugging the corners of his lips. She shrugged. "I think it suits me."

He laughed and she joined him until tears ran down both their faces. He had a wonderful laugh, full of life and joy. The unexpected thought flashed through her mind: What would it be like to hear his laughter often?

He wiped his face and eyed his vehicle. Mired in mud at the edge of the pond, it tilted precariously at an odd angle. "It's extremely fortunate you swerved in time to miss that rock."

She glanced at the boulder that had assumed the proportions of the Rock of Gibraltar when she approached it at breakneck speed but did not look nearly as large or lethal from a stationary point of view. "I'd say fortunate is something of an understatement."

"Still, this is a minor disaster. I just hope when we get it out of the mud there's no serious damage." He circled the carriage. "It's my own fault, of course. I should never have let you drive. A woman behind the controls of an automobile." he shook his head, "it's just ridiculous."