Read Online Ransom by Julie Garwood - Free Book Online

climb down.
    But she wasn’t experienced—or nimble. Looking down made her dizzy, but, dear God, she couldn’t leave him, and time was critical. The rope would soon snap, and the child would plunge to his death.
    There wasn’t any choice, and so she said a frantic prayer to God to give her courage. Don’t look down , she silently chanted as she turned and cautiously scooted over the edge on her stomach. Don’t look down .
    Gillian cried out with joy each time her foot touched one of the protruding stones. Just like stairs, she pretended.When at last she was level with the boy, she leaned her forehead against the cold rock, closed her eyes, and thanked God for letting her get this far without breaking her neck.
    She slowly turned toward the child. He couldn’t be more than five or six years old, and he was desperately trying to be brave and bold at the same time. He had been clinging to the rope for several minutes now, holding tight with one hand and clutching a dagger—her dagger—in his other hand. His eyes were wide with terror, but she could see the tears there as well, and, oh, how her heart ached for him.
    She was his only hope for survival, but he was stubbornly afraid to trust her. Defiant, foolishly so, he would neither speak to her nor look at her, and each time she tried to grab hold of him, he thrust the dagger, slicing her arm with each jab. She wouldn’t give up though, even if it meant she died trying.
    â€œStop this nonsense and let me help you,” she demanded. “I swear to heaven, you don’t have any sense at all. Can’t you see your rope is tearing?”
    The sharpness in her tone jarred the boy, and he was able to shake himself out of his terror. He stared at the blood dripping down her fingertips, suddenly realized what he had done to her, and threw the dagger away.
    â€œI’m sorry, lady,” he cried out in Gaelic. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to hurt ladies, not ever.”
    He’d spoken so quickly and his words were so garbled with his brogue, she barely caught what he said.
    â€œWill you let me help you?” She hoped he understood her but wasn’t sure if she’d used the correct words, for she only had a rudimentary knowledge of Gaelic.
    Before he could answer, she cried out, “Don’t wiggle like that, the rope will snap. Let me reach for you.”
    â€œHurry, lady,” he whispered, though this time he spoke her language.
    Gillian edged close, held on to the indentation in the rock above her head with one hand to balance herself, and then reached out for him. She had just wrapped her bloody arm around his waist and was pulling him onto the ledge with her when the rope snapped.
    If the child hadn’t already had one foot securely on the rock ledge, they both would have fallen backward. She squeezed him against her and let out a loud sigh of relief.
    â€œYou were just in time,” he told her as he uncoiled the rope from his wrist and tossed it down into the chasm. He wanted to watch it land, but when he tried to turn around, she tightened her hold and ordered him to stay perfectly still.
    â€œWe’ve made it this far,” she said so weakly she doubted he heard her. “Now for the difficult part.”
    He heard the shiver in her voice. “Are you scared, lady?” he asked.
    â€œOh, yes, I’m scared. I’m going to let go of you now. Lean against the rock and don’t move. I’m going to start climbing back up and . . .”
    â€œBut we got to go down, not up.”
    â€œPlease don’t shout,” she said. “We can’t possibly climb all the way down. There aren’t enough footholds. Can’t you see the rock is sheared smooth?”
    â€œMaybe if you went and got a good rope, we could—”
    She cut him off. “It’s out of the question.”
    Both of her hands gripped the edge of the tiny crevice above her