Page 12 of Just Imagine
She pushed again, harder this time, but nothing happened. The window was locked.
Stunned, she leaned against the house. She’d known her plan wasn’t foolproof, but she hadn’t expected to be thwarted so soon. Mrs. Simmons must have discovered the unfastened latch before she left.
The first drops of rain began to fall. Kit wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers until the storm passed, but she summoned her courage and circled the house, looking for another way inside. The rain fell harder, striking her through her shirt. A maple tree thrashed in the wind. Near its branches she spotted an open second-story window.
Her heart pounded. The storm roared above her, and her breath came in short, panicky gasps. She forced herself to grab the lowest branch of the tree and pull herself up.
A bolt of lightning split the skies, and the tree quivered. She clung to the branch, terrified by the force of the storm and cursing herself for being so lily-livered. Setting her teeth, she forced herself higher into the tree. Finally, she began edging out onto the branch that seemed to grow closest to the house, although the driving rain made it impossible to see how far it went.
She whimpered as another thunderclap left the stink of brimstone in the air. Don’t swallow me up! She willed herself to move farther out. The limb pitched in the wind then began to sag under her weight.
The skies lit with another lightning bolt. Right then, she saw that the branch didn’t grow close enough for her to reach the window. Despair washed over her.
She blinked her eyes, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and worked her way back down the tree.
As she reached the bottom, lightning struck so close that her ears rang. Trembling, she pressed her spine against the trunk. Her clothes stuck to her skin, and the brim of her hat hung like a sodden pancake around her head. Tears she refused to shed burned hot behind her lids. Was this the way it would end? Risen Glory taken from her because she was too weak, too chickenhearted, too girly to get into a house?
She jumped as something brushed her legs. Merlin stared up at her, his head cocked to the side. She sank to her knees and buried her face in his wet, musty fur. “You no-account dog . . .” Her arms trembled as she drew the animal closer. “I’m as worthless as you.”
He scraped her wet cheek with his rough tongue. Another blast of lightning struck. He howled, and Kit jumped to her feet, fear igniting her determination. Risen Glory was hers! If she couldn’t get into the house through a window, she’d get in through the door!
Half crazed from the storm and her own desperation, she raced toward the back door, fighting the wind and rain, too desperate to pay attention to the tiny voice that told her to give up and try again another day. She threw herself against the door, and when the lock didn’t give, she began pounding it with her fists.
Tears of fury and frustration choked her. “Let me in! Let me in, you Yankee son of a bitch!”
Nothing happened.
She continued to pound, cursing and kicking.
A jagged bolt of lightning shot from the sky and struck the maple that had so recently sheltered her. Kit screamed and threw herself inside.
Directly into the arms of Baron Cain.
“What in the hell . . .”
The heat from his naked, sleep-warmed chest seeped through her cold, wet shirt, and for a moment, all she wanted to do was stay where she was, right there against him, until she could stop shivering.
“Kit, what’s wrong?” He grabbed her shoulders. “Has something happened?”
She jerked back. Unfortunately, Merlin was behind her. She stumbled over him and sprawled down on the hard kitchen floor.
Cain studied the tangled heap at his feet. His mouth quirked. “I take it this thunderstorm is a little too much for you.”
She tried to tell him he could go straight to Hades, but her teeth were chattering so hard she couldn’t talk. She’d also landed on the revolver tucked in her britches, and a sharp pain shot through her hip.
Cain stepped over them to shut the door. Unfortunately, Merlin chose that moment to shake himself off.
“Ungrateful mutt.” Cain grabbed a towel from a hook near the sink and began rubbing it over his chest.
Kit realized her revolver would be visible under her clothes as soon as she stood up. While Cain was preoccupied drying off, she slipped it out of her britches and hid it behind a basket of apples near the back door.
“I don’t know which of you is more scared,” Cain grumbled as he watched Merlin disappear down the hallway that led to Magnus’s room. “But I wish you both could have waited till morning.”
“I’m sure not scared of a little damn rain,” Kit retorted.
Just then there was another crash, and she leaped to her feet, her face turning pale.
“My mistake,” he drawled.
