Page 15 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
“Yes,” she whispers, her heart pounding. “But how… how are we getting out?”
“There’s a carriage waiting outside the gates,” he replies. “Your trunks are already packed.”
“How am I getting down?”
“You’ll have to climb,” he tells her.
“Climb?” Selene’s voice wavers.
“There’s a very well-situated trellis to your left,” Dorian says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world.
She has never climbed out of a window in her life. Why is he saying it as though it’s as natural as descending a staircase? Does he have any idea how many layers she’s wearing? She imagines it must be much easier to climb in boots and breeches.
Yesterday, you were running for your life,a voice reminds her.You can climb down a trellis.
“All right,” she says, though her tone betrays her nerves. “Just let me get my cat.”
“Your… cat?” Now he is the one sounding as though he’s been asked to climb out of a window in a dress. “You’re bringing your cat with you?”
“If that’s all right?”
Dorian hesitates, thennods. “Yes. Of course it is.”
Her brief panic ebbs. She turns back into the room, rushing to collect Mistress Stripe. Getting the cat into her box takes longer than expected, and when she returns to the window, she’s faced with a new dilemma: how to get Mistress Stripe down. Throwing the box to Dorian seems far too cruel.
“Use the curtain ties,” Dorian suggests, watching her linger uncertainly at the window.
Knots aren’t her strong suit, but after some fumbling, she manages to loop the ties together and secure them around the box’s handle. Slowly, she lowers Mistress Stripe into Dorian’s waiting arms. He frees the ties quickly, setting the box down with a force that makes her suspect the cat has taken a swipe at him.
“Not afraid of cats, are you, Lord Nightbloom?” she calls down, trying to mask her nervousness.
“I am absolutely not afraid of cats,” he replies, though the hesitation in his voice suggests otherwise.
Oh heavens,she thinks.I don’t know this man at all. This is absolute madness.
Madness would be staying here and marrying the Duke,the voice inside her counters.
There can be more than two mad things,she retorts silently.
Taking a deep breath, she eyes the trellis. The wall is coated in thick ivy, twisting and gnarled. Below, Dorian shifts his gaze between her and what she assumes is their carriage waiting just beyond the estate’s walls.
“You can do this,” she whispers to herself, gripping the windowsill.
With a tentative step, she places her weight on the trellis and begins to climb. Every movement feels precarious. Her skirts snag, her shoes scrape against the wooden lattice, and her breath comes in shallow gasps.
“Easy there,” Dorian calls softly from below, his voice steady and reassuring. “You’re doing well.”
Selene pauses, daring to glance down. Her heart lurches. She isn’t far from the ground, but the distance feels like miles, and her fingers have already gone numb from gripping the vines. Her mind whirls with what-ifs, spinning out terrible possibilities. What if she loses her footing? What if the trellis snaps? What if someone—
“Selene,” Dorian calls, catching her gaze. “Let yourself fall backward. I’ll catch you.”
“Are you sure?” she calls back, her voice more tremulous than she intends.
“Absolutely,” he promises, his arms outstretched, steady and certain.
Her pulse races as she clings to the trellis one last time, eyeing him with a mix of trust and fear. Then, with a deep breath, she closes her eyes, releases her grip, and tips backward.
The air rushes around her in a heady blur, but it’s less than a second before his arms close around her, solid and strong, breaking her fall. For a dizzying moment, they are so close she can feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. He has caught her, just as he promised, and she can’t suppress a soft laugh, exhilaration and relief spilling over.
