Chapter fifty six
The men stopped and faced her, fear almost shielding their beautiful features. A pistol was aimed at them, but better scrutiny made them realise the attack was posed to Philip.
Monica stalked deeper with the aim of her gun straight at the brown haired lad. But as much as his friends were tensed, the Duke hadn't batted an eyelid. Instead, he glared straight at her, into those sad, green eyes, daring her to shoot.
"Don't be insane Monica!" Peter said with a voice forced into a low growl. "Drop the weapon!"
The lady never flinched a muscle. And while she thought her move was fearfully and threatening, Philip Forland just smiled at her, "Save your breaths, she won't shoot." He tilted his head, turning it into a grin just before he sighed, "She can't."
Monica's stare hardened narrowly. And of course, she knew he was right. He knew her, her strengths, her weaknesses, capabilities, inside…through and out.
And the familiar feeling of vulnerability before him dawned. The grip she had around the pistol tightened and she spat, "Dare me! You have two minutes to sign my bail and let me go, or I'll shoot."
All the Duke did was smile, a small mocking smile, "Then go ahead Monica. Shoot me…"
There was silence afterwards, governed by fearful stared amid daring ones. Philip had not stopped glaring at the lady, neither had she stopped frowning at him. And there were his four friends ordering her to put down the weapon.
Her entire charade came to a halt when a colony of guards rushed through the doorway, armed to the teeth.
Jason followed soon after, sending an apologetic look to the lass that read, "I tried to stop them."
Monica gritted her teeth in genuine helplessness and walked forward slowly, "I will put a bullet through his chest. Put down your arms!"
A slight moment of confusion followed her words. However, in the end, the soldiers complied. Ironically though, the Duke they strived to protect raised himself from his seat and walked round his mahogany desk.
It took him just a few steps to reach face to face with the Scottish damsel. With his eyes still a daring shade of amber, he touched his chest to the barrel of her gun. Anything could happen now for all he cared.
Now, all eyes fell upon Monica, gasping, praying, hoping…
Her next actions, however unexpected, came as an answer to their plea.
With a careful, sudden dash, the lady went for the major window and jumped out through it.
Philip's metal glare followed her actions. Somehow, he knew she was more than capable to skillfully make it down the length of the building unharmed. And at that, she would escape.
"Follow her," The words were stern, quiet and commanding.
And of course they were heeded to instantly.
***
Anna tightened the knots around the dresses, confirming they were a strong straight line. It didn't bother her that nine expensive ball gowns belonging to her had been joined in strong bonds into a full fledged clothe rope long enough to go down the entire length of the building.
"Throw it out," she heard Rebecca shriek from behind her.
Anna fumbled with the knots again, and in one go, she swooshed it over the window panes and released it into a loop that hung down the mansion walls.
"She should have jumped down by now," the brunette daughter said to the duchess, "but then I cannot hold this alone."
Speak of the devil…
Just as she said that, she sighted a figure that dashed past and downwards… then a sudden weight entwined itself in the loop of clothes.
Anna's grip loosened at the force and the rope had begun slipping off. She looked down and met Monica's green, fearful gaze, trying to clutch on the last of the dresses before the entire rope fell free.
Well that would be ugly.
A hand came upon hers supportively, slightly wrinkled and feminine. Her mother, although weaker than she was, pulled as well. With both their efforts, the loop came to a hanging halt from which the Scottish dangled free.
She gave a genuine smile of appreciation and nodded to them.
Slowly, they lowered her unto a ledge above a window…then released the rope and surrendered to the floor, capable of killing to remain there.
"I have never done that much work in my entire life," Anna declared and received a grin.
Meanwhile, Monica perched herself in a crouch upon the ledge, taking one look at the surroundings before her. It now seemed this game festival brought more harm than good. They'd managed to keep everyone away from the building and engaged them in archery, sword fighting or any other bloody thing.
But now, she had to get through them to the gates without being seen. Well hell was easier to freeze over.
Speaking of bad luck, Philip's guards had emerged from the base of the building, successfully attracting attention from all sides.
"There she is," a small boy from the Forland clan who was previously engrossed in rope climbing pointed up at her.
Before Monica could complete her mental note to kill the lad later on, an arrow surged at her.
She darted away to avoid it uncalculated and found herself slipping off the ledge. What better definition for "Out of the frying pan and into the fire!"
But her hands gripped it as she set herself hanging down and vulnerable to any attack. At that, she made a risky move.
The staff quarters of the mansion just below her opened into a balcony framed with barristrade. That could be helpful. With a gasp, she swung the rest of her body to and fro, striving to achieve momentum.
Monica let go of the ledge and landed down to the staff balcony, an adjacent area from where she had been.
Her knees were bent in a crouch with her eyes darting about the approaching crowd of the clan. Uncertainty and fear left her shivering and weakening. The number they hovered in made her almost sure she couldn't make it through the gates.
She needed a horse…!
Her gaze shifted to the stables at the far east of the empire. Her next actions were fast-paced and skillfully done.
She turned around and headed from the balcony into the quarters m
The Scottish literally tan through the chambers and hallways, avoiding several hands reaching her way to grip her. Soon after, she met another window that faced east and jumped off it carelessly.
Of course she knew, according to the plan, that Anna and her mother must have let down another cloth line from that part of the building.
That finally made her wonder…. Why was the building so tall?!
Anyways, she gripped on the table cloth that was her rope. And as before, the two ladies had pulled with all strength in their bones. Just that this time, they needed more hands to do the trick Monica planned to pull off. And more hands they got.
Jason approached in a run, entwining one strong grip on the table cloth and relieving the ladies. After one reassuring and hopeful glance down the red haired lass, the Earl of Vetcom nodded.
Monica Maitland repeated her to and fro swinging, aiming at another barristrade balcony directly beside her and down.
After gasping for air and strength, she let go of the rope and headed down for one final break; the balcony. But then she missed it.
Her feet fell past without landing upon it, making her stifle a groan of failure. Then before she knew it, the rest of her body drifted past.
Before her hands did, she tried reaching for the rails unsuccessfully.
And then, that was the first time in fifteen years she prayed.
The answer to that came as a soft, fluffy landing instead of her body breaking upon cobbled stones. Despite how graceful it was, Monica frowned and opened her eyes to study what had happened.
He body laid on what she made out to be a mattress, something she swore wasn't there before. When she sat up to wonder who'd tossed it out to help her, her eyes just widened in shock. Wasn't it the one who claimed to hate her most.