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“Very short.”
Noelle pressed her face into Fuzzy’s fur. “Now’s our chance,” she whispered.
So saying, she inched away until she came up against the thick bark of the oak tree that loomed beside the pond. Tilting back her head, she gauged her distance, then flung Fuzzy up as high as she could.
He landed—and caught on the lowest branch.
In a flash, she shimmied up the tree, snatched Fuzzy, and—just to be on the safe side—climbed several limbs higher. After counting to ten, she called, “Brigitte!”
Brigitte spun about, her gaze darting everywhere at once. “Noelle, where are you?”
“Up here.”
Following the sound, Brigitte tipped her head back un
til she spied her charge. “What are you doing up there?”
“Fuzzy got stuck. I climbed up to get him.”
“Well, you can climb right back down.”
“I can’t. I … My dress is caught on the branch, and I can’t pull it free.”
“Noelle …”
“I know you’re afraid,” Noelle interrupted in a soothing tone. “So why don’t you get Uncle?” She pointed helpfully toward the manor. “Just throw a stone at his window. He’ll hear it. He’s probably standing near there anyway.”
Brigitte gaped. “Why you little imp. You planned this.”
A grin. “Get Uncle, Brigitte. He’ll help you.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You come down here this instant.”
“No.” Shaking her head, Noelle inched farther out over the water. “The branch gets real thin out here,” she announced. “You’d better not take any chances. You’d better fetch Uncle so he can—”
Noelle’s sentence ended on a broken scream as, with a loud crack, the branch gave way, toppling both its occupants directly into the center of the pond.
“Brigitte!” Noelle shrieked, flailing about in genuine terror.
Her dark head vanished beneath the surface.
“Oh, my God.” Brigitte kicked off her shoes and flung the holly to the ground, racing forward and splashing into the pond without thought or strategy.
She struggled her way to the spot where Noelle had now resurfaced and was thrashing about in an attempt to save herself. Frantically, Brigitte grabbed for her—once, twice—but each time Noelle’s battling limbs evaded her.
Panic took over. Relinquishing all attempts at retaining her footing, Brigitte lunged at the child, grabbing hold of Noelle’s waist and catapulting them both headlong into the center of the icy pond.
Frigid water slapped Brigitte in the face, stinging her eyes and nose. She strove to regain her balance, but Noelle’s wrestling limbs and her own sodden layers of clothing were too ponderous to overcome. Blindly, she fought for their lives, her arms and legs growing weak after what seemed like an eternity of effort. Finally, with her last bit of strength, she thrust Noelle upward, praying it was far enough for the child to break the surface and breathe. Her own lungs were bursting for air and a dark roaring pounded through her skull as she kicked at her gown and cloak, her feet searching desperately for the muddy bottom.
Abruptly, Noelle was yanked from Brigitte’s grasp. A split second later, a powerful arm anchored beneath her legs, hauling her up and out of the water.
Air, frosty or not, was the greatest of gifts, and Brigitte sucked in one huge breath, then another—dissolving into harsh spasms of coughing.
“Slowly,” Eric commanded. “Breathe slowly. Don’t try to speak.”
“Noe … Noelle …” Brigitte rasped.
“I told you not to speak.” He deposited her on the bank, Noelle coughing and wriggling beside her. “She’s fine. As are you. Reckless and stupid, but fine.”
