She had no choice. Besides there were plenty of things left for the child. She tossed the bundled clothing outside before she crawled onto the window ledge and sat there with her feet dangling in the damp air.
It was certainly a long way down. She took a deep breath and turned around. She gripped the shirts tightly in both hands, then she lowered herself out the upper window.
She moved carefully, hand over hand. Twice she scraped the side of the house and the rocks scratched her knuckles and forearms.
The rope became wilder the farther down she got. It tended to swing back and forth. To keep from banging against the house every half foot or so, she had to struggle and kick her legs wildly and clamp the rope between her thighs.
She looked down. She was just about halfway. So she paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then she slid the next hand down a few inches.
Not more than an instant later she heard a sharp whistle.
She froze.
“Great legs, George.” Eachann was standing beneath her, right next to the side of the house. He had one boot resting on a large rock and an elbow propped on his bent knee while he grinned up at her.
She hung there, her legs wrapped tightly around his shirts and her hands gripping them so hard her arms had begun to quiver.
“Do that little thing again where you wiggle your butt and let my shirts slide between your drawers.”
Her hands slipped and she struggled, kicking out her legs to try to grasp a steady hold again.
He was crowing the whole time. “Thanks, George. That last eyeful was even better.” He paused. “You know, I’ll never look at these shirts in the same way again.” Then he gave an obnoxious and wicked bark of laughter.
She struggled and fumed and flushed angrily, trying to keep her legs together and to not slide down any farther.
Time ticked by with nothing but stubborn silence.
He stretched and gave a mock yawn, then said, “Not in a hurry anymore? Well, that’s fine, George. I’m in no hurry.”
Her arms were killing her.
His arms were crossed again in that annoying way he had, as if all he had to do was wait and the world would come to him.
She didn’t budge, just glared down at him. Then her hands slipped again and she groaned, hanging there stubbornly.
“George.” He held out his arms. “Just let go. I’ll catch you.”
She looked up at the window above her. Gritting her teeth, she started to climb back up, but she could only go about a foot because she had almost no feeling left in her arms and hands.
“You are stubborn.”
She knew she didn’t have the strength to go back up. But to admit that to him would be worse than sawing off her own feet.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, then. I have no choice.” He reached out and tugged on the shirts. “The way I see it, the odds are three to one it will hold both of us. Let’s test it.”
“Wait! It can’t possibly hold both of us!”
“I thought I warned you about doing anything else foolish. You don’t listen very well.” He grabbed the shirts and jerked them so tautly that Georgina slid down two feet all at once.
She shrieked.
His hands slid slowly up her calves.
She kicked her legs out at him, but missed. Her hands slipped. She fell the rest of the way. Her bottom smacked him right in the chest and they both tumbled to the ground.
Stunned and shocked, she lay there sprawled all over him.
She was mortified.
