Free Family In The Making (Matchmakeing Babies 2) by Jo Ann Brown Page B

waving frantically from the orchard. She gasped when she saw Gil high in a fruit tree, holding on to the trunk.
    She ran to the orchard, pushing aside low branches to reach the tree. Gil was perched too high for her to grasp him. “Can you climb down a bit? Then I can get you.”
    “No!” Gil shook his head, then wrapped both arms around the narrow trunk.
    “Let me.” Lord Trelawney appeared at her elbow.
    She stepped back gratefully while he reached for the child. Looking down, she asked, “Why is he up in the tree?”
    “I told Bertie to go,” Toby said, glowering at the other boy. “He was too afraid.”
    “I told Toby to go. He was too scared.” Admiration slipped into Bertie’s voice. “Gil went.”
    She took both boys by the hands and drew them away from the tree so Lord Trelawney could get closer. Their explanations told her everything she needed to know. The bigger boys had dared each other to climb the tree. When neither of them did, Gil had had to prove he was as big and brave as they were.
    Her relief disappeared when she realized Gil was too high up in the tree for the viscount to pluck him down, even when Lord Trelawney stood on his toes. When he dropped to his heels, he winced and rubbed his injured knee.
    “Move the children farther away,” he ordered, “in case a branch breaks while I climb up to the boy.”
    “You cannot climb a tree with your damaged knee. Keep an eye on him while I get someone from the house.” She turned to run inside, but halted when Lord Trelawney snapped her name in a tone she had never heard him use. His voice crackled like summer lightning, astounding her.
    Looking over her shoulder, she gasped. Gil was crying and stretching out his hand toward her.
    “Don’t move!” she shouted.
    “Want Maris,” he cried.
    She ran to the tree. “I am here, Gil. Hold on to the tree. Hold tight.” Without taking her gaze from Gil as he followed her orders, she went on, “Bertie, go into the house and bring a footman. Fast!”
    “I go,” Toby offered.
    “Bertie knows the house better than you do, and I will need you for other things.” She added the last when she saw the superior look on Bertie’s face. The boys were too competitive. “Go, Bertie! Quickly!”
    The little boy ran toward the house as fast as his short legs could go.
    A hand on her shoulder sent a warm tingle along her arm even before she realized it belonged to Lord Trelawney. She tried to smother her reaction. This was the worst time to allow his touch to thrill her.
    “It will be fine,” he said, standing so close his words caressed her neck along her bonnet ribbons. “Bertie will find someone quickly.”
    But he did not. Minutes passed, and the little boy did not return. Lord Trelawney murmured a prayer. Maris wished she could do the same, but she had to hope God would listen to the viscount’s petition as He had not to hers. No one came out of the house, and a cool wind rose off the sea. It shook the branches, and Gil began to sob.
    They had to do something before the child was knocked out of the tree. But what?
    As if she had asked that aloud, Lord Trelawney said, “Miss Oliver, I can think of one solution.”
    She glanced at him before looking to make sure Gil had not moved. “What is it?”
    “Climb onto my uninjured knee, and I will boost you up enough to reach him.”
    “That is madness!” She stared at him, shocked. “You could be hurt worse.”
    “Maybe, but not as badly as Gil will if he tumbles out of the tree while we argue about what to do.”
    Gil cried out her name again.
    “I will be right there,” she assured him. A motion caught her eye, and she turned to see Bertie coming toward them.
    Alone.
    “No footman to help!” he shouted. “Only maid.”
    Maris sighed. The children took everything literally. She should have said he needed to alert the first person he saw.
    No time to think of that.
    Turning to the viscount, she said, “Your suggestion is our best choice. However,