“No.” To his utter and everlasting surprise, she reached up, cupped the back of his head, and brought it down to join her lips with his. The kiss was hard, swift, and full of desperation and a thousand other emotions he could not process at the moment because his entire mind was consumed by the need to get them safely to the ground. It shook him to his core. And galvanized him.
It was over before he could react.
“Thank you. I’m ready now.”
Saying this, she threw her legs over the ledge and, at a nod from him, pushed back without hesitation, putting her life and that of her nephew in his hands. His muscles strained as he lowered them slowly, safely, to the ground. Hand over hand, using his own weight and strength to counterbalance their combined weight.
By the time they reached the ground, the entire room was full of smoke and the floor was so hot that he could feel the heat even through the soles of his boots. Time for him to descend. Checking that the rope was still secured to a heavy armoire, he grabbed the curtain tieback cords and fashioned them into a harness that he wound around his waist with a secure knot. Then, looping the length of rope through the harness, he got into position and pushed off the ledge. He kept his legs perpendicular to the wall as he used his left hand under him to control his descent while holding on to the rope for stability with his right hand above his head, using a technique he had learned in the Royal Engineers Corps to navigate difficult terrain or climb walls during a siege.
In no time at all, he was on the ground, drawing deep lungfuls of blessedly clean air. To his intense relief, he noticed the fire brigade had gotten the pump working and were directing a steady stream of water into the broken windows of the burning rooms.
Josephine was by his side in an instant, still holding her nephew. She was smudged and bedraggled but alive and safe. It had been a close thing. Too close for comfort. The fire might be put out soon enough, but if he had not been staying nearby, if he had not caught the fire brigade, if he had taken even five more minutes to arrive, she and the child might have not survived. The thought sent a chill through him.
“Is Edward well?” He frowned as concern lanced through him when he beheld the limp body of the child in her arms.
“He’s fine. Merely asleep. I guess the high drama of the night exhausted him.”
The nurse came over now. Still a bit worse for wear but much better now that she was outside. “I’ll take the little one, milady.”
Josephine passed the sleeping child to the nurse, who took him aside to place him on a makeshift pallet that some of the maids had laid out.
“You came for us.”
He couldn’t tell if the hoarseness of her voice and the brightness of her eyes was due to emotion or the smoke, but either way, his answer was the same.
“Of course. I always will.” She opened her mouth to say something, but he went on. “But if you contradict me ever again in a matter of life or death, I’ll have to discipline you for insubordination.”
He had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes widen in either shock or arousal. Maybe a bit of both.
“And how will you do that?” Her attitude was defiant, but her eyes were soft. Oh yes, she was aroused. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Defy me and you will find out.”
Maybe his nearness was too much, for she stepped back, flustered. “How did I defy you?”
“I told you to go down first. But you insisted I help the nursemaid first.”
“But she’s old and—”
“That’s the reason I chose you to go down first. You are young, strong, and bold. You could have made it down fast and brought the child with you. He would have had less exposure to smoke. Not to mention that if something had gone wrong later on, at least you two would be safe, while I stayed behind to try to help the nurse until the end.”
Her face paled under the streaks of soot. “I didn’t think of that.”
A twinge of remorse tugged at his heartstrings. But this was important. It had been so damned close. Maybe it didn’t look like that to her because they had all gotten out unharmed. Buta few more seconds and either of them might not be here. “No. You didn’t. But officers are trained to make these difficult choices all the time. In the heat of battle, it could be the difference between surviving or not.”
“I understand. And Michael?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. For everything.”
Ittookseveralhoursand the combined effort of the fire brigade, the estate staff, and himself, but the fire was at last put out. He was exhausted, but his job was not done. While fighting the fire, he had noticed some patterns that didn’t make sense. At least not for a natural fire. He had stored the information away for a later time, while focusing on the most important matter: controlling the flames. Now that the fire was extinguished, it was the time to investigate.
Michael walked through the east wing corridor, hunting for the origin of the fire. Smoke still lingered, faint and acrid, clinging to the air like a ghost that refused to leave. As he stepped over the scorched threshold of the room that had sustained the most damage, his boots crunched on a mosaic of ash, glass, and blackened timber. The scent hit him first—not only the acrid bite of smoke, but something sweeter beneath it. Faint traces of lavender, orange blossom… and ethanol.
His jaw tightened.
This had once been Josephine’s workroom. Now it was a shell. The table at the far end—what was left of it—had collapsed in on itself, one leg gone entirely. Charred stumps of candlesticks clung to warped holders. Bottles lay shattered in glittering pools,their contents long since ignited or evaporated, save for the clinging, ghostlike residue on the stone floor.
