“Of course it is. You’re making it go. Now, how about the next gear?”
Violet struggled to maneuver the lever into position as well as work the clutch and hold the tiller steady. “Maybe you should have made this a two-person machine,” she said loudly over the engine. “Like a boat. One person to hold the tiller and the other to row.”
Daniel let out a laugh. “Nay, driving alone is pure freedom. No horses, no coachmen, no grooms, no waiting on anyone else. Just you and the wind and the machine rumbling under you.”
“Until you run out of fuel,” Violet said. “Then you go nowhere.”
“You’re a pessimist, love. Don’t throw cold water.”
“I’m practical. How can I flee the police if the car won’t run? With a horse, I can just gallop away.”
“Until the horse drops dead. Let’s try the brakes now.”
Violet pumped the foot brake and the motorcar slowed. Daniel showed her how to gear down and brake some more, then pull the hand brake at the end. The car rolled more slowly until it stopped altogether.
Violet swung to Daniel, her eyes shining, smile wide. “I did it! I drove it.”
She looked so happy like this, free of everything but the excitement of what she was doing. Daniel wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back. Let her enjoy the moment.
“Aye, that you did,” Daniel said. “And ye did it well, just as I knew you would. Now, want to see how fast it will go?”
The look in her blue eyes said she did. “What do I do?”
“First we ready ourselves.” Daniel reached into the back again and pulled out the other things he’d had Simon pack. He handed a bundle to Violet.
She stared at it. “You really want me to wear these?”
Daniel pulled a leather helmet over his head and settled goggles on his eyes. Gloves went on next. “If ye don’t want bugs in your hair and dust in your eyes, yes.”
Violet watched him then laughed. “You look like a fly.” Her gaze dipped to his plaid-covered lap, and Daniel tightened. “A Scottish fly.”
“Enough making fun of me, woman. Put it on.”
Violet didn’t look like a fly in her gear. She looked adorable.
They hadn’t lain together since the night in Berkshire. Daniel had spent all the nights since reliving every moment of what they’d done. Every heated, erotic moment.But Daniel had no intention of ruining what they’d begun by pushing her too hard. To that end, they had separate bedchambers in the Grande Hotel, filled their days working on the motorcar, and filled their nights showing Violet the splendors of Paris.
Daniel had Violet get the car moving forward again and guided her to the first gear, then to second. When they were moving along at a smooth pace, it was time for the top gear. “Ease in more on the throttle. More . . . more . . . yes.”
The motorcar sped up, then sped up some more. Violet fought the tiller—Daniel really needed to find a more efficient steering mechanism. The wheels skidded on the mud of the farm road, but Violet moved the tiller from side to side, naturally finding her way out of the spin.
The car kept moving. Fast and faster. Fields stark with winter rushed by on either side of them.
Violet flashed Daniel a triumphant look, then she laughed. Wind buffeted them, freezing and bracing.
“It’s like flying!” Violet shouted, and let out a whoop.
Violet embracing the world. A beautiful sight.
The road curved sharply to the right. Violet’s eyes widened as the bend zoomed up fast. Daniel had his hands with hers on the tiller as they pulled it around the bend, the wheels slipping and sliding under them.
The car went into a spin. Daniel was thrown back into his seat, but Violet set her face and hung on to the tiller, her tongue pushed between her teeth. She wrestled with the car, pulling and pushing the brakes and gears until the car came out of its wild skidding and moved in a straight line again.
Daniel thought she’d gear down and stop the car, but Violet gave him a look of wild glee and pushed the motorcar to go even faster. She leaned forward, the joy on her face wonderful to behold.
They were moving fast, faster than Daniel had thought the car would go. The best speed anyone in Europe or America was reaching at the moment was about fifteen to twenty miles per hour. Daniel and Violet had left twenty far behind. Forty was more like it. Or fifty.
Violet let out a wild noise. Every bit of fear in her was gone. She was free. And Daniel loved her.
Desire, liking, admiration, exasperation—all had rolled together to form purest, warmest love. He knew he needed this woman in his life. Always.
Violet threw back her head and laughed. Daniel laughed with her, and she looked over at him, a hot smile on her face.
The next bend made them stop laughing. Violet screamed, pumped the brakes, and worked the tiller. They hit a deep patch of mud, and the motorcar spun freely across the narrow road.
The back end of the car went all the way around, and kept going. Daniel saw the furrowed field coming at them before he grabbed Violet and dragged her down, throwing himself over her.
The back end of the car went up a bank, and the front end swung across loose dirt in a sickening wave. The rear wheels stuck fast, the engine stalled, coughed, and then died. The front wheels at last ceased their wild spinning and went still. A crow cawed as it sailed by them, and then all was silence.
Chapter 29
“Vi.” Daniel wrenched himself up, not liking how still Violet lay beneath him.