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Chapter 4

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“Are you boys nearly ready? Luke says we’re leaving in five minutes.”

Jillian strode over to the swingset and flopped down in the empty swing near Samuel. Dear Lord, she must be crazy. Why had she prattled on about her life to Luke? His questions were deceptively simple and before she knew it, she was talking too much. It was painful enough to realize—to finally admit—that her mum didn’t give a damn about Annie. That Rosemary Moseby had considered her eldest daughter dead years earlier when she’d had the cheek to leave them all behind for the wilds of America.

“She must’ve written me off now, as well,” she muttered to herself as she pushed off the ground and pumped her legs. James hopped on the other swing and immediately followed suit while Samuel followed their progress with his eyes.

Her mother had all but demanded that she remain in England…that heading to America would be to her peril. That Jillian would be “on her own.” That Rosemary would not come traipsing across the ocean to look for her.

“Thank God for that.” Jillian smiled sadly and shook her head, letting the breeze catch her hair as the swing climbed higher. It was about time. Anyone would’ve thought that she was still a child. The parental noose had only cinched tighter after Annie’d made her escape all those years ago. Jilly had been thirteen…but thanks to Annie’s stunt, she’d been relegated to the status of an eight-year-old—and a juvenile delinquent one at that, kept on a tight leash and under constant surveillance.

“Jilly, look at me!”

She shook off the memory as she turned toward James. Her eyes widened in shock when she realized how high he was climbing. “James, slow down,” she cried.

Lord, he was so high, he was going to flip off the bloody swing. Jilly immediately quit pumping her legs, trying to slow down enough to jump off. The wind whistled in her ears as her hair blew in her face.

“I’m higher than you are. I’m higher than you are.”

“Honey, stop. You’re going to fall.” She was too afraid to wait any longer. Without thinking, she threw herself from the swing, surprised at how long she was airborne before she crashed to the ground in a heap. She ignored the wrenching pain in her shoulder and staggered to her feet, not bothering to brush off the mulch. When she hobbled back toward his swing, she noticed for the first time that Samuel was staring at her, his mouth dropped open.

“What in the sweet hell did you think you were doing?”

Luke jogged over to her side with Sarah perched in his arm like a sack of groceries. The baby was laughing and waving her arms in the air. He’d clearly run across the park, yet he wasn’t the least bit out of breath. She hadn’t run anywhere and she was gasping for air as though someone had held her head under water.

For Her Protection

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