A Knight's Persuasion Read Online Free PDF Page A

out. “W-what is wrong? Why is it t-taking so l-long?”
    “The pulley was stuck, but we fixed it. Listen, now. We are going to lower the bucket. ’Twill be easier than you trying to hold on to a rope while we draw you all the way to the surface. Stand in the bucket. We will pull you up.”
    What if the pulley jammed again? What if the bucket couldn’t hold her weight and broke? She might perish before they could find another way rescue her. “Edouard!”
    “I am here, Juliana. You will be all right,” he said. “Trust me.”
    A muffled creak came from above. He’d started lowering the bucket.
    Hurry. Hurry!
    She waited, treading with her tiring legs. Her harsh breaths echoed.
    “The bucket will reach you soon,” Edouard said.
    Holding her breath, she tried to discern its arrival. The air stirred close to her face. An object splashed nearby.
    She reached out and touched the rough-hewn side of the bucket.
    “I have it!” she called, relief soaring inside her. She reached higher to grab hold of the connecting rope. The bucket shifted, sloshed, but she managed to slide one leg over the side, then the other, and set her feet on the bottom.
    “I am in!” she cried.
    Tucking her sketchbook under her arm, she held tight to the coarse rope with numb hands. One shuddered breath. Two. The rope tautened under her grip, and then she felt herself slowly rising. A joyous sob rattled in her throat.
    Little by little, she rose. The bucket swung gently with each tug from above, while water trickled from her gown, hanging over the bucket’s side, to the surface below. Her teeth were still chattering, but hope glowed inside her. Soon, she’d be on solid ground.
    Long moments seemed to pass before the sunlit stones of the well’s rim came into view. A crowd of servants and guests had gathered around the opening, many of the men assisting with the rope.
    One more tug and her head cleared the well. Edouard and Kaine reached in to catch hold of her arms. They pulled her up to the well’s edge.
    Clutching her sketchbook before her like a shield, she swung her trembling legs over the well’s side and stood.
    The crowd cheered and clapped. “Lady Juliana is safe!”
    “Well done, milords,” one of the men cried.
    “What heroes!” another man shouted.
    Juliana sucked in a breath of fresh air, all too aware of the water dripping from her ruined gown to puddle in the dirt. Her bodice stuck to her skin; the wet silk had turned indecently sheer, but at least the sketchbook hid her bosom from the crowd’s view.
    Most importantly, though, she was safe.
    “Thank you,” she said to the helpers by the well, to Kaine, and at last, to Edouard.
    He no longer looked the arrogant rogue. His expression grim, he dipped his head in reply. Dirt streaked his right cheek and grubby patches marked his tunic. He’d taken off his mantle. It lay in a heap on the edge of the well.
    As conversation spread through the crowd, Edouard touched her arm. “Are you hurt?”
    “Nay.” Juliana jerked from his gentle grip.
    “Are you certain—?”
    “I am.” She could hardly bear to look at him, the man who’d told her, of all astonishing things, that she was beautiful. The man who’d almost kissed her, knocked over the tray, pushed her into the well—and then rescued her. She didn’t know how to feel about him.
    Worst of all, the excitement stirred up by his desire for a kiss still simmered inside her, taunting her with what might have been.
    Edouard sighed, a sound heavy with regret. “I am glad you found your sketchbook.”
    Most likely a ruined sketchbook . Unable to speak past the tightness in her throat, she nodded.
    “That . . . drawing of me . . .”
    Heat swept Julian’s face. She’d never intended for Edouard to see that foolish, impulsive sketch. Never should she have indulged that curious desire to draw him, and not merely so Mother could see what he looked like.
    Fingering wet hair from her cheek, a gesture Juliana hoped might hide