Page 66 of The Sound of Seduction
“Gwendolyn Folsham—if you stepone inchmore—!” Nick’s voice rang out, brittle with a fury so tightly restrained it nearly shook. Whatever was left of his composure threatened to snap as he turned, throwing Stan a look so venomous, it burned. “Thisis your fault.”
Stan opened his mouth, floundered, and closed it again. He tried not to wince as Wendy, above them all, raised an arm—was she waving?!—as though utterly impervious to the storm brewing below her.
“I’m going to fetch her,” Felix called as he darted into the house, remarkably calm, though his brow furrowed as if silently judging just how far Wendy would fall if her grip slipped.
“Or perhaps a straitjacket before Nick throttles someone?” Andre said, walking closer to the wall, as if he were estimating where she might fall—if not from the second floor, then surely from grace.
There was no question in their minds, she’d fall. And if—no, when—she got hurt, it would all be Stan’s fault.
“I’ll throttle you if you don’t stop enjoying this,” Nick snapped, turning back to the scene above, his arms flailing in something caught between despair and rage. “Wendy! Get back inside this instant!”
Her answer came in the form of another wiggle, more determined this time, that sent her skirts shifting precariously against her legs. The slight flash of skin underneath shot through the group like a lit fuse, and Nick visibly reddened—though it was hard to tell if it stemmed more from anger or embarrassment. “Iswear—” Nick’s mutter dissolved into incoherent sputtering before his voice rose again. “Tell her to stop!” he barked at no one in particular.
“She’s your sister,” Alfie quipped, his tone far too relaxed for the moment as he leaned just slightly away from the inevitable eruption. “I think that’s your job.”
Nick whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Stan, his face thunderous. “You!What did you do to her?!” His voice practically cracked under the pressure of sheer, unbridled protective instinct. “If she falls, I’ll—”
But no one finished the sentence. Because at that very moment, Wendy paused her descent just long enough to glance downward at all of them—a shy little tilt of her head, her hair spilling over one shoulder like innocent curls on a child, though there was nothing innocent about the way she dangled there, smug as a cat who’d caused a vase to fall.
Stan should have protested. He should have spoken, thrown himself on what little mercy existed, or even tried to offer an explanation. Yet, all he managed to do was stare, his chest tight with some unnamable blend of concern and outright admiration. Because when Wendy grinned—a flash of delight that dared everyone below tostop her—he knew that no one, not even Nick, had a chance of reining her in.
*
Wendy gripped thewindowsill, her fingers curling tight against the cold wood. Itfelthigher from here, far higher than it had seemed when she’d looked at the same spot from the safety of the sidewalk. Her stomach shifted uneasily, a hollowness settling in as she glanced down. The air seemed thinner up here, and the sudden rush of nerves prickled along her arms. This was probably not wise. But it was decidedly too late to reconsider how to go about this.
Her foot scrabbled against the brick outside, the smooth stockings proving of no help. She winced as the abrasive surface scraped her toes. Her ears caught the faint murmur of voices from below, though the words were too distant to makesense. Wendy adjusted her grip on the window frame, her gaze dropping cautiously—and then she froze.
She only expected to see Stan.
Instead, there was Nick? Alfie? Andre? AndFelix?
Her stomach clenched, a mix of panic and disbelief rushing through her in equal measure. What on earth wereallof them doing there?
Her fingers tightened on the sill as her eyes darted from one familiar face to another. Nick’s rigid posture radiated authority; his arms crossed in a way that transformed his disapproval into a weapon. Beside him, Alfie appeared equally angry, though his expression was sharper, as if he were calculating exactly how much of his scorn she deserved for this spectacle. Andre stood closer to the wall, directly below her, his mouth twitching as if tempted to smile but too puzzled by her presence to do so. But it was Felix—Felix!—whose calm demeanor sent a fresh wave of mortification through her. He tilted his head slightly, observing her with an unruffled air, his lips pressed into a thin line of quiet judgment.
And then her eyes found Stan. The one person who shouldn’t have been caught in the shadows of their fury. He was standing a little apart from the group, his shoulders taut and his face a portrait of guilty concern. Was he afraid to meet her gaze—or terrified of Nick? She couldn’t decide, and the nervous energy bubbling inside her wasn’t helping.
Wendy blinked rapidly, heat rushing to her cheeks. She’d prepared herself mentally for Stan’s part in this chaos. She hadn’t accounted for a full jury watching her, ready to tally her sins.
Andre came nearer until he was directly below her. Was he bracing himself? Oh dear, did he truly expect to catch her? She blinked down at him, then at Nick, who was gesticulating wildly and shouting, though she still couldn’t quite hear him over herthrobbing heartbeat. And Stan, her handsomely disheveled Stan, looked… helpless. He stared up at her as though he wanted to climb up himself but didn’t quite trust the scenery.
Wendy opened her mouth to say something—anything, really—to ease the tension or, perhaps, to bolster her own resolve. But before she could, a firm hand shot out, grasping her wrist with enough strength to anchor her in place. She turned her head just in time to glimpse Felix stepping halfway into the room and rushing toward her, one hand gripping her arm, the other snatching the back of her gown like she was an unruly child caught at the edge of a pond.
“Wendy.”
The voice carried nothing of the chaos from below. It was calm, decisive. And frustratingly familiar.
“What on earth are you doing?” she spluttered, trying to twist away. Her grip on the windowsill tightened to counterbalance the awkward tug. She didn’t want to get caught, not by Nick, not Felix, not any of them. Just this once she wanted to speak to them about being a grown woman in love and not the little sister in need of protection.
“Saving your sorry, pretty face from plummeting to the gravel,” Felix replied evenly, though his tone carried a distinct lack of patience.
“Don’t!”But, yes please!
“Do you know what your face would look like after a fall from this height? Because I do. Teeth smashed, jaw tilted at an unnatural angle, a set of injuries thatI’dbe tasked with fixing, mind you.”
Wendy froze at his words, the sting of their imagery rooting her in place for just a moment. She craned her neck to glance down again, her stomach flipping as the ground beneath her seemed to tilt precariously.
“It’s not that high,” she lied, her voice soft and doubtful even to her own ears.
