Page 100 of The Highland Heist
As she neared the bottom, Grace began swinging the curtain again, attempting to get Lillias as close to the balcony as possible. Her arms burned from the effort, and her throat felt raw from smoke, but she didn’t stop. Not until she heard the sound that froze her from head to foot.
A sharprip.
Her breath caught. “No! No, no, no.” She leaned out the window, panic rising like the flames below. “Jump, Lillias! The curtain won’t hold!”
“I can’t—”
The fabric gave way with a gut-twistingrip.Lillias shrieked as she tumbled, her body smacking against the stone railing of the balcony with a sickening thud.
Grace’s heart plummeted.
But then—praise heaven—Lillias hooked her arm over the edge of the railing like Robinson Crusoe’s hold on the chest as he drifted at sea. Good. Halfway there.
Zahra bolted to the edge, clutching the back of Lillias’ gown in an attempt to pull the woman the rest of the way over the railing onto the balcony. Lillias’ feet flailed in the air, skirt flying.
Grace was certain her sister would never have imagined looking so undignified.
Out of nowhere, a figure rushed onto the balcony. Grace’s breath hitched.Mr. Kane? What on earth—
Her tension shattered as Lillias’ voice, shrill but unmistakable, echoed upward. “Tony?”
Oh.Grace sagged against the window frame, her relief spilling out in a shaky laugh.
Tony wrapped his arms around Lillias, hauling her to the safety of the balcony. But as he crushed Lillias to his chest, murmuring something she couldn’t make out, the two of them melted into an embrace long overdue.
Grace averted her gaze as their reunion transitioned into a lip-on-lip reconciliation.
But she had little time to dwell on the reunion as another figure appeared below.
Frederick.
Her favorite face in the world.
He wrapped an arm around Zahra, his gaze lifting to meet Grace’s. He moved to the edge of the balcony, his gaze locked onto hers, and Grace felt as if the entire inferno paused, holding its breath. The weight of his worry, the raw desperation on his face—it was as though he were willing her to survive through sheer force of will.
Well, if her last sight was Frederick’s face and her next would be Jesus, it wasn’t the worst way to go.
But the pained expression on her dear husband’s face, the worry lining Zahra’s brow, and the smoke stinging her throat sent her into motion.
Her gaze darted around the room, searching for a solution. The tattered curtain hung useless below, fluttering in the fiery draft. But—her eyes landed on the heavy ropes used to tie back the drapes.
Ropes.Of course! She almost laughed. They hadn’t failed her yet.
She rushed to untangle them from the remaining curtain, dousing a spark from the fabric as she did. The ropes were thick, meant to hold the weight of the drapes, and she tied them together with knots she prayed would hold. Securing one end to the iron bracket, she tossed the rope out the window, tested the strength with a quick tug, and climbed onto the sill.
“Grace!” Frederick’s call grew over the sound of the fire.
She sent him a look, hoping it conveyed a little of how much she loved him, before she drew in a deep breath, gripped the rope with both hands, and slipped over the edge. Her fingers burned against the coarse threads in the rope, but little by little she slid closer to her goal and farther away from the fire.
The balcony was so close, but the angle was wrong. She needed to swing closer.
Twisting her body, she pressed one foot against the castle wall and shoved off. The rope arced, and she hurtled toward Frederick. He reached for her, but his fingers fell short.
She swung back, pushed off again.
This time, his hand grazed the rope.
A jolt sent her heart slamming against her ribs. The rope slipped a few inches. Either the knots were unraveling, or the fire was claiming her anchor.
