Read Online Nothing to Commend Her by Jo Barrett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jo Barrett
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collar, but he paid it no heed, his only thought on his missing wife.
Her fingers were growing quite numb where she clutched the vine, and her legs weak, but Agatha refused to give up. She would not die this way.
Her throat raw, she looked to the black sky above her, the rain pelting her wind-burned cheeks, and called out once more.
"Help!"
The soggy ground shifted beneath her feet, and with a gasp she pressed herself more firmly to the craggy wall. She cast a sidelong glance at the crashing waves below and prayed once more.
"Please, God. I've so much more I wish to do in this life.” A sound, faint to her ears but growing steadily, gave her hope. “Here! I'm here!"
"Agatha!"
A light appeared above her at the edge of the muddy cliff followed by her husband's face. His scars, although more prominent in the glow of the lantern beside him, was surely the most beautiful face she had ever seen.
"My God,” he rasped, and shoved the lantern to Mr. Roberts then fell to his stomach, his arms outstretched toward her. “Take my hand!"
She eased one hand from the vine and reached for him, but he was too far away. Tipping up on her toes, she stretched further and the ground gave way near her right foot.
"No!” he roared.
She swallowed her scream and grappled for a better hold on the vine. The ground ceased to crumble beneath her, and she took several shallow breaths.
"Hold on, Agatha. Hold on."
"What does it look like I'm doing,” she snarled.
He stood and stripped off his coat then lay down at the edge. “I want you to take hold of the coat, and I'll pull you up."
"It'll rip!"
"It will hold!"
"I'm not about to trust my life to your bloody tailor!"
"Then trust me.” His voice raw and pleading, tightened the band around her heart. “Please, Agatha."
She swallowed her fear and reached for his coat.
"That's it, now the other hand,” he said.
Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the coat as the ground fell away from beneath her feet. “Magnus!"
"I've got you!"
He pulled as she held on with the last of her strength. The mud and rocks scrapped against her damp skin, but she was moving upward, and would gladly take any beating to arrive atop the cliff in one piece.
Strong, warm hands grasped her beneath the arms and hoisted her over the edge. Together, they rolled across the wet grass away from the cliff, Magnus’ arms wrapped around her.
"I've got you,” he murmured against her forehead as he sat up. “I've got you."
A blanket settled over her, but she couldn't leave the warm haven of his body, not yet.
"I'll have a bath readied, my lord,” Tess said.
The sound of whispering voices met her ears, forcing her eyes to open. “Thank you. All of you.” She trembled and huddled closer to her husband.
"Come, we need to get you inside,” Magnus said.
She started to climb from his lap, her heart still pounding, but from what? Her near brush with death or from her husband's strong embrace?
She shook her head, too tired to puzzle it out and nearly fell over as she attempted to stand. Magnus scooped her up into his arms, and she was lost to the feel of him once more.
"I should've warned you the cliffs were unstable,” he grumbled.
With a weary sigh, she tucked her head beneath his chin. “It was obvious."
He chuckled, a harsh biting sound. “If it was so obvious, then why did you venture too close?"
"I didn't, I was pushed."
He paused in mid-stride. “What did you say?"
She looked up into his stern features, the lamplight casting his scars in shadow. “I was pushed."
He stood staring at her, his mouth scant inches from hers, but she knew kisses were not on his mind. Her blatant declaration had him baffled, as it did her, but it was a fact. She had been pushed.
She nestled her head beneath his chin once more, indulging in the few moments she had in his arms. No wonder women swooned so often. The feeling of security, of strength, and dare she hope, caring wrapped around her heart like the blanket she
Her fingers were growing quite numb where she clutched the vine, and her legs weak, but Agatha refused to give up. She would not die this way.
Her throat raw, she looked to the black sky above her, the rain pelting her wind-burned cheeks, and called out once more.
"Help!"
The soggy ground shifted beneath her feet, and with a gasp she pressed herself more firmly to the craggy wall. She cast a sidelong glance at the crashing waves below and prayed once more.
"Please, God. I've so much more I wish to do in this life.” A sound, faint to her ears but growing steadily, gave her hope. “Here! I'm here!"
"Agatha!"
A light appeared above her at the edge of the muddy cliff followed by her husband's face. His scars, although more prominent in the glow of the lantern beside him, was surely the most beautiful face she had ever seen.
"My God,” he rasped, and shoved the lantern to Mr. Roberts then fell to his stomach, his arms outstretched toward her. “Take my hand!"
She eased one hand from the vine and reached for him, but he was too far away. Tipping up on her toes, she stretched further and the ground gave way near her right foot.
"No!” he roared.
She swallowed her scream and grappled for a better hold on the vine. The ground ceased to crumble beneath her, and she took several shallow breaths.
"Hold on, Agatha. Hold on."
"What does it look like I'm doing,” she snarled.
He stood and stripped off his coat then lay down at the edge. “I want you to take hold of the coat, and I'll pull you up."
"It'll rip!"
"It will hold!"
"I'm not about to trust my life to your bloody tailor!"
"Then trust me.” His voice raw and pleading, tightened the band around her heart. “Please, Agatha."
She swallowed her fear and reached for his coat.
"That's it, now the other hand,” he said.
Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the coat as the ground fell away from beneath her feet. “Magnus!"
"I've got you!"
He pulled as she held on with the last of her strength. The mud and rocks scrapped against her damp skin, but she was moving upward, and would gladly take any beating to arrive atop the cliff in one piece.
Strong, warm hands grasped her beneath the arms and hoisted her over the edge. Together, they rolled across the wet grass away from the cliff, Magnus’ arms wrapped around her.
"I've got you,” he murmured against her forehead as he sat up. “I've got you."
A blanket settled over her, but she couldn't leave the warm haven of his body, not yet.
"I'll have a bath readied, my lord,” Tess said.
The sound of whispering voices met her ears, forcing her eyes to open. “Thank you. All of you.” She trembled and huddled closer to her husband.
"Come, we need to get you inside,” Magnus said.
She started to climb from his lap, her heart still pounding, but from what? Her near brush with death or from her husband's strong embrace?
She shook her head, too tired to puzzle it out and nearly fell over as she attempted to stand. Magnus scooped her up into his arms, and she was lost to the feel of him once more.
"I should've warned you the cliffs were unstable,” he grumbled.
With a weary sigh, she tucked her head beneath his chin. “It was obvious."
He chuckled, a harsh biting sound. “If it was so obvious, then why did you venture too close?"
"I didn't, I was pushed."
He paused in mid-stride. “What did you say?"
She looked up into his stern features, the lamplight casting his scars in shadow. “I was pushed."
He stood staring at her, his mouth scant inches from hers, but she knew kisses were not on his mind. Her blatant declaration had him baffled, as it did her, but it was a fact. She had been pushed.
She nestled her head beneath his chin once more, indulging in the few moments she had in his arms. No wonder women swooned so often. The feeling of security, of strength, and dare she hope, caring wrapped around her heart like the blanket she
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