She propelled herself up into a sitting position, shoving away Duncan’s hands as he tried to still her. Grinning like a madwoman, she lumbered to her feet and promptly limped toward the base of the tree, certain she could climb it without feeling a thing. All that mattered was winning that prize.
“Valery, what on earth are you doing?” Duncan grasped her by the ribbon of her dress, pulling her back.
“I am going to win,” she replied, tugging away from him, searching for a suitable handhold.
He wedged himself between her and the trunk, holding her by the shoulders, his expression sterner than she had ever seen it. His dark blue eyes clouded over, his lips set in a grim line. “You just fell over, and rather hard at that; your foot is bruised, you are certainly winded, and you might have hit your head without realizing—there is not a single chance that I am letting you climb a tree in this condition.”
“I have to get it, Duncan,” she insisted, peering up at the fluttering beacon of victory.
He held her at arm’s length, expelling a frustrated sigh. “Very well,Iwill fetch it for you.”
“Absolutely not! You will take it for yourself,” she protested, though, now that she thought about it, the cluewasrather high up. And her head was swimming.
He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I promise, I will not take it for myself. That prize is yours. I am a man of my word—and, after all, I still owe you a debt—so stand back and let me get it for you.”
“Did you know it was up there?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced up to where the ‘treasure’ flapped in the wind. “Surprisingly, no. In fact, I shall have to have words with the staff who put it up there. I am certain I said nowhere high or dangerous, but… I suppose even the grass can be dangerous to some.”
“Yes, very amusing,” she muttered, stepping back at last.
With her safely remaining on solid ground, Duncan began to climb the mighty cedar with all the grace and agility she had missed that morning. He moved with the confidence of someone who had made his way up that tree a thousand times, prompting her to wonder what he had been like as a boy.
Had he climbed that same tree with his brother? Had they reclined in its shade after a long day of adventuring? Did he still climb it when no one was around to see, remembering bygone days?
She still did not know what he had been about to say to her last night, before they were rudely and terrifyingly interrupted by those drunken gentlemen, but it pertained to that lost brother somehow. What she had no idea about was howthatpertained to her.
He hoisted himself up onto a narrower bough, the muscles across his back straining the seams of his tailcoat, his arms bulging with the effort, though he made it look effortless. Maybe shehadhit her head, but she could not draw her eyes away, admiring his athletic prowess.
Straddling the bough where it met the trunk, he untied the ‘treasure’ and waved it with a smile. “Do you want to read it or shall I?”
“Drop it down to me!” she insisted, holding her hands up.
He shrugged. “As you wish.”
He let the golden note fall, the paper lilting back and forth through the air like an autumn leaf, drifting down to the eagerly grasping hands of the victor.
Snatching it out of the air before it reached the grass, Valeria held it to her chest for a moment, breathless with exhilaration.
“What does it say?” Duncan called down, as he turned himself around to make his descent.
“Is that not something you should already know?” she replied, laughing as she cracked the seal on the back of the paper and prepared to read out the winning word.
He swung down to the next bough. “I told you, the staff arranged it.”
“I do not believe you,” she countered. “One of my clues was in the apple tree, and Iknowthat was not coincidence.”
“I assure you, it was,” he replied, glancing toward the ground for a moment to mark his path down. “Come on, do not leave me in suspense. What does it say? Tell me the words and I will fetch your prize, while also seeing what is taking the viscount so long.”
Still not quite believing him, but unable to restrain herself any more, Valeria opened out the golden paper… and frowned at the words inked inside. “Is this a jest of some kind?”
“I do not know,” he replied, climbing downward. “I promise you, faithfully, that I did not write it. So, what does it say?”
Perhaps, she should have waited until he had reached the ground, but her desire to know if it was a trick of some kind overwhelmed her common sense. As did her desire to know if, perhaps, it was not a trick at all, but a grand gesture to undo all of the confusion and hurt he had inflicted.
“Will you marry me?” she said.
Duncan’s foot slipped, his hands scrabbling for purchase that was not there. Seemingly in slow motion, he fell from the tree, while Valeria watched helplessly, unable to do a thing to break his fall.
