Julie Garwood - The Gift

Sara waited another twenty minutes or so to let the household settle down for the night. Then she slipped out from under the covers and collected her belongings from where she'd hidden them under the bed. She needed to be inconspicuous on her journey. Since she didn't own anything black, she wore her old dark blue walking dress. The neckline was a little too revealing, but she didn't have time to worry about that problem. Besides, her cloak would conceal that flaw. She was too nervous to braid her hair and had to settle on tying it behind her neck with a ribbon so it would stay out of her way.

After she'd placed the letter she'd written to her mother on the dressing table she wrapped her parasol, white gloves, and reticule in her cloak. She tossed those possessions out the window, then climbed out on the ledge.

The branch she wanted to grasp was just two feet away but a good three to four feet below her. Sara said a quick prayer she'd make it as she wiggled closer to the edge. She sat there a long while until she could summon up enough courage to jump. Then, with a whimper of fear she couldn't contain, she pushed herself off the ledge.

Nathan couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was just about to climb up the giant tree when the window opened and various articles belonging to a woman came flying down. The parasol hit him on his shoulder. He dodged the other items and moved deeper into the shadows. The moon gave him sufficient light to see Sara when she climbed out on the ledge. He was about to shout a warning, certain she was going to break her neck, when she suddenly jumped. He raced forward to catch her.

Sara caught hold of a fat branch and held on for dear life. She said another prayer to keep herself from crying out. Then she waited until she quit swinging back and forth so violently and slowly wiggled her way toward the trunk.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God." She whispered that litany all the way down the tree. Her dress got tangled up in another branch, and by the time her feet finally touched the ground the hem of her gown had worked its way up and over her head.

Sara righted her dress and let out a long, ragged sigh. "There now," she whispered. "That wasn't so horrible after all."

Lord, she thought, she was starting to lie to herself. She knelt down on the ground, gathered up her possessions, mumbling all the while, and wasted precious minutes putting on her white gloves. Dusting her cloak off took a bit longer. After she'd adjusted the garment around her shoulders she untwisted the strings of her reticule, slipped the satin cords around her wrist, tucked the parasol under her arm, and finally walked toward the front of the house.

She stopped quite suddenly, certain she heard a sound behind her. Yet when she whirled around she didn't see anything but trees and shadows. Her imagination was getting the better of her, she decided. It was probably just her own heartbeat making all the ruckus in her ears.

"Where is Nicholas?" she muttered to herself a short time later. The servant was supposed to be waiting for her in the shadows next to the front stoop. Nicholas had promised to escort her to her Uncle Henry Winchester's townhouse. Something must have happened to waylay him, she decided.

Another ten minutes passed before Sara accepted the fact that Nicholas wasn't going to return to fetch her. She didn't dare wait any longer. There was too much risk of being found out. Since her return to London two weeks before her father had taken to the habit of looking in on her during the night. There would be hell to pay when he realized she'd run away again. Sara shivered just thinking about the consequences.

She was completely on her own. That admission made her heartbeat go wild again. She straightened her shoulders and then started walking toward her destination.

Uncle Henry's townhouse was just three short blocks away. It shouldn't take her any time at all to walk over there. Besides, it was the middle of the night, and surely the streets would be deserted. Villains needed their rest, too, didn't they? Lord, she certainly hoped so. She would fare all right, she told herself as she hurried down the street. If anyone tried to waylay her, she'd use her parasol as a weapon to defend herself. She was determined to go to any length to save her Aunt Nora from having to spend one more night under her uncle's sadistic supervision.

Sara ran like lightning the first full block. A stitch in her side forced her to slow down to a more sedate pace. She relaxed a little when she realized she was actually quite safe. There didn't seem to be anyone else on the streets that night. Sara smiled over that blessing.

Nathan followed behind. He wanted to appease his curiosity before he grabbed his bride, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the wharf. In the back of his mind was the irritating thought that she might be trying to run away from him again. He discarded that notion as foolish, for she couldn't possibly know about his plans to kidnap her.

Where was she going? He mulled that question over in his mind while he continued to trail her.

She did have gumption, though. He found that revelation astonishing, since she was a Winchester. Yet she'd already shown him a glimpse of real courage. He'd heard her cry out in obvious fear when she'd thrown herself off that ledge. The woman had gotten herself caught up in the branches, too, then prayed her way down to the ground in a low, fervent voice that had made him smile. He'd gotten a healthy view of her long, shapely legs while she was in such an unseemly position and had to restrain himself from laughing out loud.

It soon became evident to him that she was still blissfully oblivious to his presence. Nathan couldn't believe her naivete. If she'd only bothered to look behind her, she certainly would have seen him.

She never bothered to look back. His bride rounded the first corner, passed a dark alley at a brisker pace, then slowed down again.

She hadn't gone unnoticed. Two burly men, their weapons at the ready, slithered out of their makeshift home like snakes. Nathan was right behind them. He made certain they heard his approach, then waited until they were turning around to confront him before he slammed their heads together.

Nathan tossed the garbage back into the alley, his gaze directed on Sara all the while. The way his bride strolled down the street should be outlawed, he thought to himself. The sway of her hips was too damn enticing. Just then he saw another movement in the shadows ahead. He rushed forward to save Sara once again. She'd just turned the second corner when his fist slammed into her would-be attacker's jaw.

He had to intervene on her behalf yet again before she finally reached her destination. He assumed she was going to call on her Uncle Henry Winchester when she paused on the bottom step of his residence and stared up at the dark windows a long while.

Of all her relatives, Nathan thought Henry was the most disreputable, and he couldn't come up with a single logical reason why Sara would want to call on the spineless bastard in the middle of the night.

She wasn't there for a visit. Nathan came to that conclusion when she crept around to the side of the townhouse. He followed her, then lounged against the side gate to keep other intruders out. He folded his arms across his chest and relaxed his stance while he watched her fight her way through the shrubs and breach the house through the window.

It was the most inept burglary he'd ever witnessed.

She spent at least ten minutes working the window all the way up. That simple accomplishment was a short victory, though. She was just about to hoist herself up onto the ledge when she tore the hem of her gown. Nathan heard her cry of distress, then watched her turn and give full attention to her gown. The window slid back down while Sara lamented over the damage.