“Melanie.” Malum locked his gaze with hers, his tone steady but laced with a touch of light-heartedness. “It looks like you’ll have to play the romantic hero today.”
She knew exactly what he meant and was already shaking her head, looking down at where Crossings lay sprawled below and then back to Malum.
“It won’t hold me,” she said, her voice breaking, barely audible above the crackle of flames behind her. “I’ll fall.”
Malum could see the panic rising in her—the tremble in her hands, the darting of her eyes, as though searching for another way out.
But there wasn’t one.
“You’re half his weight,” Malum said firmly, stepping closer to the trellis. His gaze never left hers. Behind him, Westcott, Helton, Beckworth, and Tipton were already unfolding a heavy sheet, pulling it taut between them.
Malum placed a hand on one of the brittle slats, testing its frailty. The old wood creaked but didn’t give. Tilting his head back, he looked up at her. “If you don’t climb down, Melanie, I’ll come up and get you.”
She leaned further out the window, her face so precious… “No!” she shouted, alarmed. “I’ll do it.”
Malum stopped, meeting her wide, frightened eyes with a look he hoped conveyed everything he felt—pride, strength, and most of all, love. “I’m right here, sweetheart. You’re not doing this alone.”
Seeing hesitation etched in every line of her face, Malum watched her grip the edge of the window frame. For a moment, she was utterly still.
He wanted to shout, urging her to hurry, but he bit it back. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on her, willing her forward with every ounce of his being.
Then, finally, she gave a tight nod, but as she went to begin her climb, her skirts snagged on the sill, tangling around her legs and hampering her movements. She paused, frustration flashing across her face, and tugged at the fabric with one hand while clinging to the window frame with the other.
Malum held his breath even as he sensed the men behind him moving closer with the stretched linen. When they were ready, he moved to the side, allowing them to get into position.
“Keep it tight,” Beckworth instructed.
The faint breeze caught Melanie’s hair, sending a few curls across her face. Slowly, painstakingly, she swung her legs over the ledge, her skirts hanging loose now, swishing about her ankles. She coughed a little, but kept moving, one hand gathering the fabric and pulling it out of the way so she could find a slat to step on.
“That’s my girl,” Malum murmured under his breath, the words not meant for anyone else. When she paused, looking unsure, he raised his voice so she could hear. “Face the building, Melanie! Step sideways. Hold tight. You’ve got this.”
The trellis creaked unpromisingly as she tested it with her slippered foot, and his gut tightened. It wasn’t just the rickety structure that worried him—but the integrity of the entire damn building, compromised by the fire.
Malum tightened his grip on the trellis, as though he could will it to hold her weight. He swallowed hard, entirely focused on the pale, soot-streaked face peering down at him, her lipspressed together as if to keep her panic contained. He’d seen her bravery before, but damn it, the stakes had never felt this high.
“It’s holding,” he said, his voice firm. “One step at a time. I’m right here.”
“Okay. I’m coming, then.” Her gaze flicked down to him, and their eyes locked. He didn’t hear the fire roaring behind her or the shifting movements of the men holding the makeshift catch. All he saw was her—terrified, determined, and entirely too precious to lose.
“You knew…” she said as she lowered her other foot.
“What did I know?”
“You knew that Crossings was dangerous.” Her voice carried just enough for him to hear. “That he was a danger to me. Didn’t you? That’s why you said you were worried—last night…” Her voice broke slightly, but her fingers held tight to the trellis, moving from one slat to the next.
Odd time for her to decide she wanted to have this conversation, but Malum was willing to talk about whatever she wanted if it would help keep her calm. Besides, she was climbing for her life; an explanation from him was the least that she deserved.
“I did,” he admitted. He should have told her this before, instead of losing his wits and breaking things off so cruelly. He should have… “I should have realized earlier. By going to that ball—and then driving in the park, I put you in danger.” Standish had been right to be livid. It was a miracle her brother hadn’t demanded they meet at dawn. “I just…” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking.”
Something cracked inside, causing the building to shudder, but she kept right on climbing, descending with halting steps.
“Why weren’t you thinking?” she asked, a little wobble in her voice. “What do you mean?”
Of course she wouldn’t make this easy. They were not alone—far from it. His friends, his servants, hell, damn near a hundred strangers were listening to their exchange. But Malum was determined to answer her honestly.
“I wasn’t thinking straight, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
She stilled, but then he held his breath when her grip faltered slightly before steadying herself again.
