“What if I tug the string and pull the apron around?”
“Do it,” she commanded.
I tugged, undoing the bow at her back.
“I see the fire now. It’s spreading so quickly,” she choked out.
“Would you believe your father gave me advice on courting you?” I asked to keep her distracted from the crackling fire. Smoke billowed in black clouds while the heat scorched my skin, promising further torture if we didn’t hurry. A ragged cough tore at my throat.
A horrified gasp sounded behind me. “He did not!”
“Oh, he did.” I could not help my smile as I pulled the string, cramping my fingers. “Lean away from me. I need more room.”
At last the apron circled round. I slid my fingers into the pocket, grasped the cool edge of a handle, and lifted it out—and felt it slip from my fingers to the floor with a clatter.
“Blast!” I cried. “I’ve dropped it.”
A pounding on the brewery door echoed loudly.
Bridget screamed. I yelled. On the other side, a man sounded frantic, and I had never been so relieved to hear Mr. Whittle’s voice.
“Bang the door down, gents!” Then, “Hold on, my lord. We’ll get you out!”
39:Bridget
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
ISAIAH 43:2
The brewery and abbey burned, flames shooting from the upper windows, scattering ash and sparks into the night. Wood cracked and moaned, the ancient structures going up in an unholy blaze worthy of Hades’s underworld.
After Mr. Whittle and Mr. Spencer rescued us and used my knife to saw at the ropes, we all fled the brewery and rushed to the courtyard, alight with the ghastly glow of the fire.
Rafe stood beside me, his broken face enough to summon more tears. I reached for his hand and clung to it. He glanced at me, his eyes blackened and swollen and his mouth bruised beyond recognition.
“Can we save the abbey?” I asked him. My heart seemed to cleave in half at the idea of him deprived of the last bit of fortune he had fought so hard to save. “I don’t want you to lose it.”
“Maybe,” he answered as he raised my hand to his mouth, lingering long enough to brush a gentle yet searing kiss against my knuckles. “But I have not lost everything.”
My tears flowed freely. I, too, felt the same, regardless of whether someone had stolen the amethyst necklace and mosaics from Mr. Perry and me. I had found something far more valuable than any gold jewelry or recognition, and I never wanted to lose Rafe.
As I glanced at the second-story windows, a form darted away and melted into the shadows. My blood chilled as I struggled to comprehend what I had just seen. I yanked on Rafe’s sooty sleeve and pointed to the glass panes.
“There is a man inside. I swear I saw him in the window.”
He squeezed my fingers to offer reassurance, but the jut of his jaw suggested he would not remain by my side where we would be safe.
“I’m going in, Bridget. I can’t let your antiquities or the abbey burn. Wait for me here.”
“Rafe, don’t! No ring is worth your life,” I cried, but he pulled me in for a quick embrace, pressing a kiss against the top of my head before merging into the crowd forming near the entrance to the abbey.
Mr. Spencer had brought as many tenants as he could from the surrounding farms. He and the other farmers rushed to the well with any bucket they could find. They ran into the open door of the hallway, splashing what they could.
Rafe’s broad back disappeared through the crowd of tenants. Pushing past the men, I hurried after him, all the while wishing for a handkerchief to cover my nose from the smoke. My throat tickling, I coughed, betraying my presence.
“Bridget,” he all but growled when he whipped around to face me. “You can’t come with me.” Regardless of his tone, he gently put both hands on my shoulders, pinning me in place.
“I am coming,” I protested. “Two are better than one, wouldn’t you agree? We seem to make a good team, and I should hate to lose you now.”
