Page 19 of A Bonny Pretender
“My name’s Brigid. Have ye climbed many trees?”
He shook his head. “Not this big. I didn’t think I was this high.”
“It happens, George. How old are ye?” she asked as she continued to climb closer to the boy.
“Five.” He sniffled. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be!” yelled the governess.
Frank made himself known. “Ma’am, perhaps the scolding could wait until he’s down.”
She jumped at his voice. Her hand flew to her chest, eyes wide.
“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Lord Raines at your service.” His introduction chased the fear from her eyes. He called up, “Miss MacNaughton, can I be of assistance?”
She froze, her arm in midair reaching for the next branch. “Lord Raines?” came the faint reply.
“Yes, I was wondering if I can help in any way?” A grin curved his lips. He couldn’t help it. Her slender ankles, the outline of her backside with her skirt tied at the side, her heaving chest as she peeked down at him, all had his blood boiling.
“If ye’d asked that five minutes ago, I’d have said yes. But it’d be a wee silly to come down now so ye can take my place.” Her tone sounded irritated. “Have ye ever climbed a tree?”
“Well, no.”
“Then how could ye be of any assistance?”
How much experience didshehave? “I’ll stand here and catch any falling bodies, then.”
She rewarded him with a giggle and scrambled up another branch. Brigid reached the boy and leaned against the trunk next to him. “George, have ye ever seen monkeys?”
He nodded. “At the circus last summer.”
“Good.” she said with a reassuring smile. “Let’s pretend ye’re a young monkey. When they climb, they hang on to their mother’s back and watch how she moves from limb to limb.”
The boy nodded. “I’ll try.”
Brigid turned her back to him. “Reach up and grab the branch right above yer head. Use it for balance as ye lift yerself up, then wrap yer arms around my neck. I’ll let ye ken when I’m ready, then ye’ll wrap yer legs around my waist. Can ye do that?”
He nodded again, his eyes unblinking.
“Good lad! Now, up ye go.”
“Careful, Master George. Follow her instructions to the letter,” added the governess.
“But I don’t know all my letters yet,” he moaned, panic raising his voice another pitch higher.
“Ye’re fine,” soothed Miss MacNaughton. “It’s only a phrase, like not counting yer eggs before they hatch.”
George rose a bit wobbly, then practically jumped on Brigid’s back, clinging to her neck with his eyes squeezed shut.
The governess gasped, and Frank’s heart stopped for a moment. The boy’s weight pulled Brigid, and she gripped the branch above her to keep them both upright as the duo swayed back and forth. Blast, why hadn’t he been here sooner?
“Ye’re doing a fine job, George,” came the soft brogue again. “Now, I’ve got both hands holding us steady, so wrap yer legs around my waist. Then all ye need to do is hold on.”
Another ten years ripped from his soul as the boy pushed against her shoulder blades with his elbows and threw his legs about her middle, their entwined bodies swaying again as she regained her balance for both of them.
“I don’t feel so well,” said the older woman.
Frank glanced down at the weaving form and caught her as she tumbled over. Holding the prone governess, he kept his eyes trained on the wholly inappropriate rescue still taking place. As Miss MacNaughton made her way, the boy’s face pressed against her neck. Frank watched how easily she scaled one branch and then the next. Almost as if she’d done this before.
