Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,281

can’t.”

Turning around, Annie saw Toby shake his head as he stared at the tree as though it were a giant meant to do him harm. His face had gone pale, and his hands balled into fists. “I can’t.”

“I’ll get it,” Annie offered with a shrug.

Toby shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because…” Toby’s mouth closed and opened a couple of times as he squinted against the brilliant winter sun, trying to figure out what he wanted to say. “My father always says a gentleman is to look out for a lady.” He glanced at the tree, and a shiver went through him. “You’re a lady. You’re not meant to look after me. I’m meant to look after you.”

Annie frowned, never in her life had she heard such nonsense. “I’m not a lady, Toby,” she told him, hands on her hips. “I’m your friend, and we look after each other.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “All right?”

Inhaling a deep breath, Toby once more glanced up at his hat, then nodded. “All right. But you need to promise me to be careful, Annie.”

“I promise,” Annie vowed and then turned to the tree. “Give me a hand, will you?”

Linking his hands, Toby gave her a push so Annie could reach the first, low-hanging branch, pulling herself up, feet braced against the trunk.

“Careful, Annie.”

“Don’t worry.” Pulling herself up onto the branch, Annie held on to the trunk and then pushed to her feet, reaching higher for the next. Step by step, she made her way up the barren branches, unobstructed by the tree’s usually dense foliage. “I’m almost there.” Only one more branch and she reached out her hand to grab Toby’s hat. Her fingertips were almost touching it. “Only a little farther.”

“Annie, careful!” Toby called the moment Annie tipped forward. Her feet slipped off the branch below as her right hand grasped another one higher up. For a heart-stopping moment, her feet dangled in the air, her body suspended by her right hand alone.

Below, she heard Toby suck in a sharp breath. He called out to her, but she couldn’t answer, her main focus on holding on as panic slowly snuck into her heart. What was she to do now?

And then her hand began to slip. “Toby!”

“Hold on, Annie!”

“I can’t!” And then she was falling, her eyes pinched shut in terror.

When the landing finally came, it was nothing as Annie had expected it. She’d expected a hard thud, perhaps even broken bones. What happened was a rather soft plop!

“Are you all right?” came Toby’s panicked voice a moment before Annie felt his hands on her shoulders. Then his pale face and wide open eyes appeared in front of her. Never in her life had she seen him look so terrified.

“I’m all right,” Annie confirmed as her eyes ran over her arms and legs, uncertain if she was speaking the truth. All seemed to be fine though.

Then she noticed the heap of snow she had landed in. “Did you do this?”

Still panting, Toby nodded. “I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

Annie smiled at him, then held out her hand so he would help her up. “This was brilliant, Toby!” She brushed some snow off her coat, then surveyed the heaps of snow Toby had pushed under the tree to soften her fall. “Thank you. You saved me!” Then she flung herself into his arms and hugged him as she had never hugged him before.

“I was so afraid you’d die, Annie,” Toby whispered as he held her tightly. “I was so afraid I’d lose you.”

Blinking back a tear, Annie stepped back. “You looked out for me,” she told him with a deep smile.

Toby nodded. “And you looked out for me.” He bent down to pick up his hat that had to have slipped off the branch when Annie had. “As friends do.” He grinned at her.

“As friends do,” Annie echoed, taking his hat and pulling it back over his head.

Friends.

Forever.

Chapter One ~ A Plan is Hatched

Barrington House, England, Autumn 1801 (or a variation thereof)

Barrington House with its tall columns and wide-open land held a special place in Anne’s heart. She had spent many wonderful years here as a girl, sliding down the banister in the great hall, catching fireflies at dusk and stealing biscuits from the kitchen. She had loved following the Hawke boys on their adventures, exploring the haunted attic or the gloomy library where a whispered word would echo among the rows upon rows of books. She knew every nook