Chapter One #3
“I have almost got you.” His voice was calm. “Just a little further and I have got you.”
He could hear her fearful grunts, struggling to control his own apprehension. Hand over hand, he was nearly to the point where he could reach down and grab her when Micheline suddenly bolted into the room. Her scream of terror was almost enough to cause him to lose his grip.
“My God!” Micheline cried, plowing into Kirk in her attempt to catch a glimpse of her sister. “Mara, darling, hold on!”
Bright blue eyes gazed up at the two concerned faces several feet above.
“Misha, I am sorry!” she cried, a far different attitude from the belligerent girl of moments before.
“I should not have been so difficult and I swear if God allows me to live, I shall never do anything so stupid again! And I shall go with you to Anchorsholme, I promise!”
Kirk very nearly had her. “God is not pulling you from your death, my lady, I am.” He paused in his struggles. Stepping on the rope to hold it steady, he held out a hand as far as it would go. “Take hold, lass. Take hold!”
Mara could feel the tie around her waist loosening. Struggling to keep hold with one hand, she tried to reach him but missed by an inch. Feeling the rope as it continued to unwind, she gripped the linen fearfully with two hands again.
“I can’t,” she moaned. “I shall fall!”
Kirk knew how terrified she was. He was terrified, too. Resuming his pull on the rope, he reeled carefully. “It’s all right, I shall pull you up.” He heard a shaken voice, hardly aware that it was his own. A couple of more tugs and Mara let out a piercing scream.
Kirk watched as the rope spun away from her waist, leaving her free and dangling several stories above the bailey. She was nearing panic, her gasps of fright heavy as her hold slipped.
“My hands!” She looked up at Kirk with those brilliant eyes. “They are wet. I can’t hold on any longer!”
She was just beyond his reach. Feeling a real surge of desperation, Kirk was about to make another attempt at grabbing her purely for the fact that he knew his time had run out when Niles and Corwin came storming into the room. Kirk caught sight of his knights, feeling a burst of hope.
“Hold the rope,” he ordered, releasing it to Niles’ strong arms. Throwing himself across the windowsill, his massive hands reached with desperation for the dangling lady.
“I can’t hold on,” Mara cried again.
“Aye, you can.” He could touch her but he couldn’t quite get a grip. “Niles! Pull, man, pull!”
Someone had him by the legs. Hanging from the window, it gave him the reach he needed to grab her by the wrist just as her grip failed. Mara shrieked as the rope fell away, her slender wrist straining under Kirk’s iron hold and the undue stress of her dead weight.
Somehow, he made it back onto the windowsill. He had Mara by two hands now, hauling her up with him. She was gasping, panicked and weary, and he pulled her through the window and into his massive arms.
They were both panting, shaken. It took Kirk a moment to realize he was clutching her tightly, never more relieved of anything in his entire life.
“You’re safe now, lass,” he murmured into silken dark hair. “I have got you.”
Micheline extended her arms, trying to take Mara from Kirk’s embrace. “Mara darling!” she cried. “Thank God you’re safe. I thought I was going to lose you!”
Mara was clutching Kirk with a death-grip. After a moment, the bright blue eyes appeared from the safe cozy of his neck. “Never,” she whispered, holding out a hand. “I am so sorry, Misha. Please forgive me.”
Micheline clutched the hand tightly, kissing the small fingers as she looked to Kirk. “My lord,” she said breathlessly. “We are forever in your debt. No price shall be too great to ask in reward for saving my sister’s life.”
Kirk found he could hardly respond. The greatest reward of all was nestled in his embrace, warm and soft and trembling.
But he nodded faintly, setting Mara to the ground before he grew too comfortable with the feel of her in his arms. She collapsed against Micheline, the two sisters holding each other tightly.
Kirk glanced up at Niles and Corwin, noting that the knights were fairly shaken as well. Drawing in a deep breath to regain his composure, he struggled not to appear too unnerved by the whole event.
“Since you promised your sister that you would accompany her to Anchorsholme Castle, Lady Mara, I shall hold you to your vow.” He was already moving to the chamber door.
As if trying to escape the unfamiliar emotions that had just occurred.
“Since you are not packed for the journey, I shall give you until tomorrow morning. Considering the weather is worsening, I suspect we would do well spending the night at Haslingden.”
Mara looked up from her sister’s breast long enough to lock gazes with him. Before she could offer a measure of thanks, he quit the room with his knights in tow. Staring at the empty doorway, Mara was left to ponder the annoying, heroic appearance of Sir Kirk Connaught.