Stephen tightened his grip, muscles trembling. “Hang on. I’ve got you.”
“Not for long. She’s made her choice. Now, let go.”
Stephen felt his stitches straining and his grip on his brother weakening. Was this the future Winnie had warned against? Would Wesley die here today, leaving Stephen their father’s heir? Rather than his own death being imminent?
No, Lord. Idon’t want it. Not like this. Help me savehim....Pain burned through his shoulder and down his arm. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
A scramble of rocks from above, and Stephen felt himself drop lower as Sophie slid forward.
She panted, “I’m... slipping.”
Stephen pressed his eyes close.God, no....He would not risk her life.
Heart breaking, he released his brother.
Wesley fell away from his grasp down the steep slope.Lord have mercy on his soul.
Stephen forced himself to look. Wesley slid, then rolled, then jerked to a stop. A stubborn gorse shrub several yards down snagged him with its sinewy arms and thorny branches. The thing was apparently stronger than he was. Surprise and relief filled him.Thank you, God!
With Sophie’s help, Stephen clawed his way back up to the path. His torn sling blew away in the wind.
“Don’t move, Wes,” Stephen called down to him. “We’ll go find a rope and come back to pull you up.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Wesley replied, humor and fear thinning his voice. “At least I hope not.”
Together Stephen and Sophie hurried back to the village for a length of rope and help. Half an hour later, with the aid of two strong men, they pulled a sheepish, scratched, and bruised Wesley to safety.
The three of them returned to Mavis Thrupton’s cottage. As they walked in awkward silence, Sophie longed to put her hand in Stephen’s but resisted, afraid to goad Wesley into another fight.
At the door, Mavis looked in surprise from one man to the other, but quickly regained her composure. She sternly told them to be quiet, because the baby was sleeping. Then she looked significantly down at the men’s boots, muddied in the fight, along with their outer coats. Both men took the hint and removed coats and boots inside the entry porch—Stephen struggling with his injured arm but managing without help.
Wesley had cuts on his face and hands. Mavis ordered him to sit at her table while she cleaned the wounds and applied salve.
While they were thus occupied, Sophie drew Stephen aside and said, “Wesley is right about one thing. I have made my choice. I hope you know that.”
“I still like hearing it.”
“Now I need to ask you to do something difficult for me. I need to ask you to let me take Wesley in first to meet Mary Katherine. I feel as though I need to resolve things with him. Let him say his piece, to me, to her, before I introduce you. Will you trust me?”
“I trust you completely, Sophie. But Wesley?” He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“You can stay right here. In calling distance, if need be. But I doubt you have anything to worry about. And I don’t think we’ll be long.”
“Very well. If you think it best.”
“All right, Captain, your turn,” Mrs. Thrupton announced, cloth in hand and patting the back of the chair Wesley had just vacated. He acquiesced.
Sophie turned to Wesley. “Will you come in and meet Mary?”
He stilled. “Of course I will. It is why I came here after all. Well, one of the reasons.”
Sophie opened the bedchamber door and held it open for him. She walked to the cradle and scooped up her daughter in her arms, then turned and presented her to her natural father.
“Here she is.”
Wesley leaned near, his golden-brown eyes taking in every feature. “Well, look at you, young lady. You’re right, she does look like Kate. Oh...”
His brows lowered as his attention was snagged by the purplish-red mark on her neck.
