Chapter One #2
He was concerned when he discovered the room empty.
Rushing for the window, he was confronted by a rope of bed linens, secured to the heavy bed on one end and then disappearing out the lancet opening.
Puzzled, he grasped the rope as he stuck his head from the window to see what was on the opposite end of the line.
He could make out long dark hair and a worn surcoat perched on the ledge several feet away. It was a rather precarious position but she was absolutely plastered against the wall, fingers clutching at the stone. For someone attempting to jump, she wasn’t doing a very good job.
“My lady?” The tone was droll. “What, may I ask, are you doing?”
Pressed against the stone wall as far as she could go, the small figure refused to budge. “Jumping!”
Kirk did grin, then. “With a rope around your waist?”
“I did not want to fall before I was ready!”
“I see.” He leaned lazily against the windowsill, the humor of the situation apparent. “And when will you be ready?”
The dark head twitched. “Soon. Sooner still if you do not go away and leave me alone.”
Kirk snorted softly, glancing to the ground below; nearly three stories up, it was a severe drop and he could see his men gazing up with interest. In fact, the two knights that had accompanied him, Sir Corwin Martin and Sir Niles de Worth, were directly below and he waved weakly in response to their inquisitive expressions.
“I do not plan to leave,” he said, simply to goad her. “In fact, I have a rather good view of the entire event. I plan to watch.”
On the small ledge, the tiny figure shifted, pressing herself even closer to the wall. “Then I shan’t jump. I shall stay here until you leave.”
The rope was still in his grasp. With a wicked grin, Kirk tugged on it, enough for her to feel it. “Come on, lass. It’s been a long time since I have seen a good jumping.”
She squealed as he tugged. “Stop it! Stop it, I say!”
Kirk could hardly hold back the giggles, tugging more firmly on the rope. “Do not be shy, lass. Go ahead and jump.”
She screamed and he was forced to bite back great guffaws of laughter. “Damn you for tormenting me, you brutish fiend!” she howled. “Stop pulling on the rope!”
He continued to tug mischievously. “Please?”
“Nay!”
“I promise I shall applaud loudly. I shall even throw money if it’s particularly gruesome.”
“Stop pulling!”
He did, but not before he gave the rope one final tweak. “Then come in here if you are not going to jump, you naughty wench. How dare you taunt me with promises of blood and pain.”
The dark head shifted, turning toward him. Kirk’s smile faded when he beheld features more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed. Delicate, porcelain beauty with eyes of the brightest blue. Eyes that were currently blazing with fury.
“Let go of the rope, you beast,” she hissed. “I am coming to the window and if you had any intelligence, you would run for your life!”
He continued to stare at her, so mesmerized by her beauty that he hardly heard the threat.
“Come back in here.” He wondered why his voice sounded so peculiar. Moving to the edge of the window, he extended his hand. “Come along, Mara. I shall help you.”
A well-shaped black brow lifted. “How did you know my name?”
“Your sister told me. Come back in before the rain begins.”
Bright blue eyes dared to glance at the threatening sky. In fact, she could smell the imminent storm. But his outstretched hand somehow fed her stubbornness and Mara frowned, very slowly inching her way back to the window.
“Put your hand down,” she grumbled. “I shall not accept it. I can do this alone.”
He raised an eyebrow, drawing his hand back but not removing it completely. Her skirts were in her way as she crept along the ledge and he found himself watching her footing very carefully.
“Were you really going to jump?”
“Of course,” she said boldly. “I still might if you plan to force me to travel to Anchorsholme Castle.”
“I do. Jump if you must.”
Her frown deepened, out of place on her lovely face. “Then untie the rope from the bed. I am going to go through with it.”
He shook his head. “I am not going to untie anything. If you truly wish to jump, then unfasten the rope around your waist.”
She stepped on the edge of her surcoat, tugging it carefully from beneath her slipper. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a nasty, disagreeable man?”
“Constantly.”
“And this Irish accent; it offends me. Why did you not simply stay in Ireland where you belong?”
“Because my family has served the House of De Cleveley for three generations,” he said patiently. “I had no choice but to come to England and associate with stubborn English females like yourself.”
She scowled, taking her focus off the ledge for a brief moment. “I do not like you.”
“Good.”
“Mayhap you did not understand me clearly. I really do not like you. I loathe you. In fact, when my sister is married to de Cleverey, I am going to make sure that you are reduced from captain to scullery maid.”
“The name is de Cleveley. And I am too hairy to be a scullery maid.”
Her surcoat was caught beneath her feet again but neither one of them realized it until it was too late. Before Mara could deliver another insult, she lost her balance and plunged from the ledge.
Instinctively, Kirk snatched the linen rope, holding it tight. About ten feet below him, Mara gasped and twisted.
“Stop moving, lass!” he commanded. “I shall pull you in, but you must stop moving!”
Clutching the rope, Mara’s voice was tight with fear. “I… I did not tie it about my waist very well! It is slipping!”
A bolt of panic surged through Kirk, entirely foreign to the usually calm man. It was difficult to maintain a cool, steady motion while reeling in the rope; he did not want to jerk it in his haste and end up losing her altogether.