Page 2 of A Brambleberry Manor Christmas
I clear my throat.
And that’s when I hear it.
A high-pitched screech from somewhere off to my left.
My blood chills at the sound. I spin around, staring over inthe direction of the wooded area to the side of the house. The dead silence thatfollows it is almost more chilling than the agonised cry itself.
Maybe it was an animal in the woods? I’ve heard that thecries of a fox can sound similar to a human shriek.
I glance back at the door, wishing Fen would appear, tryingto rationalise the shrill sound that’s still echoing in my head. It’s beginningto seem as though there’s no-one in. I suppose I am a little early…
And then I hear it again.
A long, blood-curdling scream, echoing through the trees.
My skin prickles. That’s not an animal. It’s human.
Someone is in trouble…
I lay my bag and the cake in its carrier on the doorstep,and I hurry as best I can in my movement-limiting skirt and heels to the sideof the house, before following a path that leads past a pretty, ornate summerhouse and into the woods.
Plunged into the shadowy trees, I stumble along in thedirection I imagine the screams came from, hoping I’m not too late, but at thesame time, dreading what I might find. My heart is thudding in my ears.Suddenly, I catch a chink of light up ahead and I’m so focused on it that I’mnot watching where I’m running – and suddenly, my foot catches under what mustbe a bramble snaking across the path. Pitching forward, I land with a sickeningthud on my knees, the heels of my hands taking a battering on the forest floor.And as I struggle back up, panting, another hair-raising screech fills the air,causing the birds in the nearby trees to rise up, flapping and squawking.
My heart in my mouth, my knees stinging, I blunder on, alongthe fern-strewn path, towards the winter sun gleaming between the trees upahead. I can hear voices now. Shouts. Maybe someone has got there before me…
As I burst, breathless, into a clearing in the trees, out ofthe corner of my eye I catch sight of something big flying towards me. There’sa whirring noise as I turn, and a deep male voice shouts urgently, ‘Out of theway!’
It all happens in a flash.
Before I can work out what’s happening, a solid weight iscannoning into me and I go flying backwards. Winded, I end up lying in a heapof bracken, with someone heavy lying spread-eagled on top of me.
Gasping for breath because he’s lying right on my diaphragm,I find myself staring up into a pair of deep blue eyes…
CHAPTER TWO
The scents of earth and pine needles are tingling mynose. The owner of the eyes is gazing down at me intently, as the shock ofwhat’s just happened stills my breathing altogether.
Then in one movement, he removes his weight from me with agrunt – as if he’s doing a swift, reverse press-up – and sits back on hisheels, hands on his thighs.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks with a frown, as I struggle onto myelbows, still feeling dazed but at least able to breathe again. Gingerly, Imove my legs. Then my arms. All in working order. Except my butt really hurtswhere I landed on it so suddenly.
‘I think I’m okay,’ I tell him, taking the hand he’soffering me, and feeling myself pulled easily to my feet. I stagger against hima little and he steadies me, his hands around my waist, and a funny littleshiver runs through me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him what happenedbut for some reason, when I meet his deep blue gaze, the words get stuck in mythroat.
‘We were trying out the zip wire,’ he says, pointing overhis shoulder. ‘When you ran into the clearing, I was already on the way and Icouldn’t stop.’ He’s very tall and his voice is deep and velvety, like meltedchocolate, and I suddenly wonder if my legs will hold me up once he lets go.
‘Zip wire?’ Puzzled, I look over to where he pointed, and myeye catches two people standing watching from the top of a wooden structurearound a hundred yards away. Yes, of course. It’s what we used to call a‘flying fox’ when we played on one as kids. I remember Fen telling me they’dinstalled one here.
‘You seem to be in one piece,’ he says, releasing me. ‘Apartfrom a bit of mud,’ he adds, his eyes dropping to my knees.
Straightening my outfit, I glance down and my heart sinks.I’ve got big dirty holes in my tights from where I fell in the woods, andthere’s something suspiciously brown and glistening stuck to my smart blackskirt. Goodness knows what my back view looks like.
‘I think it’s just mud,’ he reassures me with a hint of asmile. ‘In case you were worried it was something else.’
‘Are you sure?’ I wrinkle my nose, noticing that when hesmiles, his eyes seem a shade lighter. Less ‘storm at sea’. And more‘Mediterranean blue’.
He nods, running a hand over his cropped dark hair. ‘If youlet it dry, it might even brush off.’
I haven’t got time for that!Glancing at my watch, Irealise with dismay that it’s now five past ten.
