“Nearly there—” Jasper gasped behind her, close enough now she could hear the scuff of his boots and the wicked grin in his voice.
“Not fast enough,” she panted, stretching, and with one final, graceless lunge—her glove nearly tearing on the edge of the weathervane—her fingers closed around the cold metal tail.
She whooped, winded and triumphant. “That, sir,” she called, clinging to the crooked slant of the roof, “was awin.”
She turned, breathless with glee and fully prepared to gloat, only to find Deverell already moving. He gave a sweeping, mocking bow atop the roof, as though it were a ballroom floor, and then leapt from the lower eave to the grass below, landing in a crouch. Rising, he dusted his hands off on his breeches and looked up, smug as a devil.
“Well struck, Miss Tolliver,” he said, voice rich with laughter. “Your triumph is absolute.”
“Show-off,” she muttered, turning towards the edge, and promptly went still. The roof had felt exhilarating when she’d been racing across it with the tiles beneath her boots, wind in her hair, and the thrill of victory thrumming in her blood. It now felt rather… high. A misstep here would be undignified at best, and fatal at worst.
She bent her knees, gauging the distance to jump down. The corner of the eave looked manageable, if she could just get one foot over.
Until, of course, her boot slipped. She fell on her bottom, sliding down to the eave, where she stopped and looked down at the ground, suddenly quite terrified.
Below, Deverell stood with his hands on his hips, looking up at her with a grin.
“Do not dare laugh,” she hissed.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Although you do appear to be in a small amount of trouble at present.”
“I am perfectly capable of climbing down.”
“I’ve no doubt. Though,” he added thoughtfully, “I do wonder how you might ride home with a twisted ankle.”
She muttered something foul under her breath.
He stepped nearer, spreading his arms. “Come now, Miss Tolliver. Shall I offer you a gentlemanly rescue?”
“I do not require rescuing.”
“No, no, certainly not. Merely a… well-placed landing arrangement. Might I catch you?”
She leant forwards, eyeing the distance and pressing her lips into a thin line. The ground looked terribly far away, and she was beginning to slip further down the roof. She glanced down again and felt her stomach twist.Damn him.
“I amnota damsel in distress,” she called.
“Never. But come now, Miss Tolliver. I will catch you safely.”
She huffed. “If you drop me—”
“I shall never forgive myself.”
She stared at him, jaw clenched. “Very well,” she bit out. “But I do not wish to see so much as a smirk!”
“I shall only smirk internally,” he promised, arms still outstretched.
With one last murderous glance at the distance below, she jumped.
He caught her cleanly, with a grunt and a stagger, but his hands gripped her waist, strong and sure.
She looked up. He looked down.
“Quite the jump,” he murmured.
“Quite the catch,” she replied, oddly out of breath.
Chapter 12
