Free When Angels Fall by Meagan McKinney Page A

nodded to Miss Musgrave. “I do thank you for telling me. You’ve always been so fair and so kind to George. Now with all the trouble he’s caused, he hardly deserves your regard.”
    “Nonsense, Miss Alcester,” the elderly lady said, walking out of the schoolhouse with her. “George is a bright and handsome lad, and I daresay he has me quite under his thumb. But we must be firm here. The boy should go on to university, and he won’t unless he stays in the classroom.”
    “Thank you so much. You’re too kind. I shall speak to George as soon as I return home.” She squeezed Miss Musgrave’s hand and bid her farewell. With deflated spirits, she began the walk back to Violet Croft.
    She didn’t get far, however, before she spotted the subject of her ire walking ahead of her up the castle road. In the distance, she could barely make out his form through the elms, but she knew it was her brother. There was no mistaking his dark hair, nor his gait, which was more swagger than walk.
    The late-afternoon light was already beginning to fade and an icy wind swept through the countryside. A leaden sky had threatened snow all day, but even now all it produced was a few flurries. She pulled her dove-colored mantle closer to her neck, then quickened her step. Her eyes were trained on George but he never looked back. He seemed quite intent on going to the castle. She found this odd and would ask him what he was doing when she caught up with him. She would ask him a lot of things when she caught up with him.
    But how would she discipline the boy? Somehow, no matter how painful, she and Evvie would have to think of a way to do it. George had been indulged his entire life. His sisters had desperately tried to make up for the loss of their parents and for The Scandal that had occurred in the wake of their deaths. But now they would have to be firm, they would have to be—
    A cry escaped her lips. From out of the elms, two huge, terrifying mastiffs came galloping down the lane toward George. In the whipping wind, George didn’t even hear her cry of warning before the animals were upon him, knocking him down and mauling him.
    Numb from fright, she began running toward her brother, determined to save him from death, even if she had to pull the savage canines off of him with her own hands. Upon hearing George’s squeals, she found she had to suppress the desire to faint dead away. Terrified, she ran without paying due attention to her cumbersome crinoline. Immediately it caught in her toe and tripped her up. She almost took a brutal fall before two strong arms went about her waist and lifted her up.
    In the back of her mind, she registered that it was Ivan who held her, but she was too intent on rescuing George to do anything but cry out, “Help him! Help him!”
    She tried to pull from Ivan’s grasp and continue running toward her baby brother, but much to her horror, Ivan not only did not help George, he refused to let her go. She reached toward her little brother and clawed at the steely arms around her, but they held her like manacles. Finally, in agony, she cried out, “Release me! They’re going to kill him!” She didn’t expect the soothing baritone response she received from her captor.
    “Only if affection is lethal.”
    “My God, what—what are you saying?” she cried, still terrified for her brother. But before her question was answered, George answered it himself. She watched as he scrambled from the road, his blue tweed jacket ripped at the shoulder, his checked trousers covered with dust. Yet he was laughing joyously nonetheless, and the two mastiffs bounced alongside as he ran farther up the castle road.
    “George! George Alexander!” She practically screamed at him. Hearing her voice, George spun around, but his brow turned stormy as he looked at his sister with Ivan Tramore’s arm wrapped intimately around her waist.
    “Come here at once!” she demanded before twisting to face her captor. When she met