Borrowed Dreams (Scottish Dream Trilogy)
Page 37
Halfway down, Portia’s dress caught on some thorns. Trying to disengage it, she felt the trellis begin to come away from the house. She had no choice. Tearing the dress free, she jumped, grabbing at a branch of the pear tree as she fell.
As she dropped onto the soft ground, she was aware of her dress tearing and the laces of the corset snapped. Leaves and branches showered down on her, but she couldn’t stop to worry about any of it. Quickly, she struggled to her feet and started running from the window and the commotion taking place in the chamber above. Crossing the rose garden, she spied an arched opening leading out and turned her steps toward it. Then, as Portia looked back at the house one last time, she collided with a tall and very solid body suddenly blocking the archway. Stunned, she fell back, but a pair of strong hands grasped her shoulders.
Portia looked up in panic, expecting one of Admiral’s servants. Instead, she was relieved to find her captor was the Scotsman she had sent Captain Turner after. Shouts of “Thief!” and “Housebreaker!” rang out in the darkness.
“’Tis not what you think!” she exclaimed, already knowing that she could not reveal the truth if she ever wanted to come back here to carry her plans through.
“And what do I think?”
“I am no thief.” She tried to move away, but the man’s hand wrapped tightly around her wrist. She could hear the loud voices of servants coming across the rose garden. “They are mistaken. I was only walking in the gardens. I…I must have frightened a lady looking out her window.”
“It must have been an arduous walk.”
Portia winced when his free hand touched her cheek. She had scratched herself in the fall. He pulled a twig with leaves still attached to it from her hair.
The pursuers were almost upon them. She tugged on his arm and tried to hide in the shadows of the garden wall. Being caught would prove disastrous, she was sure. Admiral Middleton was vicious enough to lock his own daughter away, and Portia did not want to think of what he would do to her if he guessed the relationship between them.
“I came here as a guest. ’Twas too warm in the ballroom. I needed to come outside for a walk. ” Panic seized her. If he held her for another instant, she would be lost. “Please, you must help me. It will be impossible to try to explain this to them.”
“I agree. You are having difficulty explaining it to me.”
“Mr. Pennington,” she pleaded. “I beg you to believe me. I am no thief. Where I was and what I was trying to do is perfectly justifiable and explainable to a rational person…but not to a pursuing mob. If you would help me get out of here…”
“There!” The shout was nearby. “Someone is there!”
Portia glanced over her shoulder and saw men approaching. Several had torches. She shrank against him.
“Please,” she whispered against his chest.
He pulled her wrist sharply, forcing her to his side as he called out. “Over here.”
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