Page 65 of The Rebellious Countess
She could do this. She was the one who hung the ropes in the trees for their youngest sister’s swing, the one who jumped up and swung on the rafters in the barn just out of reach of little Robina to make the youngest Blair sister know what it was like to have someone strong and athletic in the family. All because their youngest sister not only missed out on what it was like to have a mother, but a father as well. Someone had to fill that role and Máira had been determined that Robina would experience all the physical joys of childhood she had, because Robina had missed out on the emotional joys of being loved by two adoring parents.
Granted it had been a few years since she had worn men’s trousers and played the role of her father, but she still carried that same Blair determination and she would not fail now. Not while her husband and Simon were depending on her to be more than just a woman who could pour tea for theton.
Suddenly a hand reached out in front of her. Her heart hitched until she realized it was Father Charles reaching for her hand. She clasped his surprisingly strong grip, and he pulled her to the top of the wall next to him. She swung her leg over and jumped down to the narrow walkway and raised her gaze to another wall between them and the abbey.
She’d never make it. As it was, it took all her mettle not to bend at the waist and rest her palms on her knees to catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell in tandem with her heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, thump. She closed her eyes and took a deep long breath through her nose and then exhaled through her mouth.
She inhaled again and lips brushed against her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling her senses further as Elias whispered, “You are magnificent.” He was gone before she had time to blush. She knew she wasn’t magnificent, but the idea that he thought her so, or that he would encourage her with such words, was enough to make her confidence soar.
Elias grabbed her hand and pulled her back in the direction of the Tour Gabriel, until they reached a corner in the wall. All three of them leaned against the wall and squatted down. It seemed she was the only one who had trouble catching her breath, but it wasn’t from exertion now. The anticipation of danger was far worse than facing danger. Her hands tingled. Her fingers stiffened, and with the rough cold stone at her back, she realized just how warm she was in the cool night air.
Elias put his hand on her knee and caught her attention. He took a deep breath through his nose and released it out through his mouth while indicating the movement with his hand. She nodded. He turned to Father Charles on his other side. Their conversation took place with hand motions only, and she was surprised at how much she understood. Elias would climb over first, Father Charles would help her, and then he would follow. Elias stood first and was climbing the wall before she even realized he wasn’t using the rope. Instead, he used his bare hands, searching for a handhold no deeper than his fingertips and using the corner of the structure like a spider with its legs on opposite walls. She hadn’t realized until that moment why he’d chosen the darkened spot as she gazed up in wonder at his strength. Even Father Charles seemed in awe as he made the sign of the cross and watched Elias as closely as she did.
Soon, she could no longer make out his form. His dark silhouette gone without a trace. It was as if the night sky erased his existence.
If he fell, she wouldn’t see him. Silence followed. Then more silence until the rope dropped between them and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. They both let out an audible sigh of relief, and Father Charles grabbed it, yanked on it two or three times.
“You will use it the same as before. The incline is steeper, so it will be a bit harder,” Father Charles whispered. “Hold on tightly to the rope. Your husband will be pulling you upward.”
She acknowledged the priest’s instructions and got in position to climb, when Father Charles tugged on the rope once more in a kind of silent conversation with Elias as she began climbing the wall. Suddenly she was climbing at twice the speed as she had earlier. It was if she were scaling the wall like a squirrel. No hesitation, no hiccups, and all the confidence in the world that everything would be fine. Within moments her husband’s strong hand grasped hers and pulled her up on top of the wall where he knelt.
She hugged him tightly, clinging to him and taking in his raw masculine scent as she tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
He’d never smelled better than at that moment.
He waited for her to settle her nerves, seeming to understand her, and then he pulled her arms from the back of his neck.
He gestured for her to lie flat on the open walkway at the top of the wall. It was about five feet wide, and if she looked down, she thought she just might fall into the inky depths of darkness. She gladly followed his instructions, hugging the stone as she slowed her breathing once more.
Elias turned his attention to Father Charles, and she watched as he pulled hand over hand, the rope piling up in front of her until FatherCharles was at the edge of the wall, his leg hitching over the top as he lay on his stomach. He lay there for a moment and Elias put his hand on his shoulder in question. The priest’sone finger rose telling Elias everything he needed to know. Her husband, however, was a man of action. He didn’t have a minute to wait. He gathered their rope and stuffed it in his bag, all the while watching the Tower of Gabriel and the chapel for any sign they had been detected. Then he leaned over and whispered in the priest’s ear before he silently disappeared over the opposite side of the wall.
Her breath hitched. She had expected him to climb down and descend faster than Father Charles or her; instead, he had put one hand on the edge of the wall and jumped into oblivion.
She couldn’t see him standing, crouching, or lying in a heap of broken bones.
A tap on her shoulder alerted her to Father Charles, who was holding a rope out for her to take, and she knew she was supposed to follow Elias. After taking the rope, she scurried down the wall, and before she knew it, strong hands were gripping her backside, molding around her curves with the familiarity of her husband.
Elias.
Her body sighed in relief as his lips brushed her ear, his warm breath soothing her rampant nerves. “I’ve got you,mo ghaol.”
His voice was so soft she swore it was her imagination as he guided her into a corner, the damp stone her only guide in the pitch-black night. Just as she began to feel a semblance of ease, he was crowding her, backing into her as he squeezed her thigh twice.
Something was wrong.
The rope dangled over the edge of the wall, swaying in the breeze.
The rope! She couldseethe rope and the walls!
Elias squeezed her leg again in warning. She could see the upper portion of the walls and the glimmer of a light flickering up and down as the person holding it moved in their direction.
A muttered curse bounced off the wall, and a soldier’s footfalls picked up pace. Elias threw something that bounced off the walls and the soldier’s light took a sudden change of direction, no longer headed toward them, but away as the soldier followed the noise. Then Elias was gone. Moving with the speed and grace of a born warrior as he tracked the soldier and disappeared around a bend.
Father Charles was there instantaneously, coming down the wall with the same speed as Elias. He hit the ground with a thud, his legs giving out as he sprawled on the ground in front of her. She bent to help him to his feet. Around the corner, glass crashed against stone and the soldier’s light extinguished. A man grunted. The sound of punches landing created visions of flesh hitting flesh, blow after blow. Máira pushed past the priest and ran for the corner that was hiding everything from her view. She came up short as light from the nearby chapel illuminated the scene. A soldier missing one ear, his face battle scarred, his body toned and strong, wielded a sword toward Elias who was down on one knee. Her breath caught in her chest, threatening to strangle her as her husband rose up and gutted the man with a vicious blade she hadn’t known he possessed.
The sword dropped to the stone and Elias withdrew his knife from the man’s stomach as the soldier slumped to the ground. Something passed between them that was akin to hatred, understanding, forgiveness, as if both men recognized the battle was not personal, but life and death were. Father Charles moved past her to the side of the dying man, and for a moment, the soldier’s eyes met the priest’s with one last look of knowing death was near on his craggy face. He nodded and Father Charles began administering the sacrament of the sickand dying. His voice became lost to the wind as she witnessed the oil he removed from his pocket and the sign of the cross he made on the man’s forehead before the soldier’s face and body went lax forever.
After a moment of silence, Elias picked up a pistol from where he had been fighting the soldier and shoved it in the waistband of his trousers. The elements of the battle that she had not seen were suddenly all too clear. Elias had disarmed the soldier before he could get a shot off, and the thought of how close she had come to losing him, sent a shiver through her body.
