“We’re ’ere, milord.” With a weary smile, the footman held open the carriage door. The day had been a long one, the last few hours lengthened when one of the wheels had dropped into a rut and some of the spokes were broken. They finally got it fixed and arrived at Justin’s grandmother’s house well after dark, all of them shivering with cold.
“Thank you, Timms.” Justin leaped to the ground. “The kitchen’s round back. There’ll be something there for you and the others to eat and a place for you to get warm.” He reached up and helped Ariel down, pulled her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. Settling a hand at her waist, he led her up the flagstone walkway toward the arched wood plank door.
The old stone house looked the same as he remembered, the shutters a bit more weathered, the shrubs a little more overgrown. The house stood two stories high, with gabled roofs and half a dozen chimneys. Lamplight illuminated the windows in the dining room, and he could see the faint flicker of firelight in the big stone hearth.
An unexpected sense of homecoming settled around him, odd since he hadn’t lived in the house all that many years. He lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it fall several times, the echo a familiar one. The sound of shuffling feet preceded the opening of the heavy front door.
For an instant, he didn’t remember the ancient, bone-thin butler who stood there grinning.
“’Tis Sedgewick, milord. We had given up hope, sir. We thought you had decided not to come.”
“A wheel broke on the carriage. Damnable nuisance, but we finally got it fixed.” He glanced around as he stepped inside, thinking to hear the sound of voices, his distant cousin Maynard and his wife, Sarah, or Phineas and Gerdie and their growing brood of five, but the house was eerily silent.
“This way, milord … milady. ’Tis beyond cold outside. Come, warm yourself before the fire.”
He followed the old man’s creaking footsteps along the hall and stepped into the parlor, beginning to worry about his grandmother, wondering where she was, hoping she hadn’t fallen ill.
Sedgewick seemed to read his thoughts. “She is not so young anymore. It’s difficult for her to get round. She’s in the dining room. She doesn’t yet know you are here.”
“Where are my cousins?”
The old man shook his head, his watery blue eyes filled with sadness. “They always mean to come, but the journey is a long one, and the weather this time of year is never good. Your grandmother always holds out hope, but in the end…” He shrugged his bony shoulders. They were stooped with age, his cheeks hollow and sunken in. Sorrow lined his face when he spoke of the woman who had employed him for more than forty years.
“Justin?” Ariel’s worried expression mirrored his own. “Do you think your grandmother is all right?”
His chest felt tight. “I don’t know.”
They crossed the room behind the butler, past the same horsehair sofa Justin remembered as a boy, the arms protected by embroidered slipcovers his grandmother had sewn.
He paused at the dining room door. The table was not quite as long as he remembered, but it was polished to a glossy sheen, and pine boughs and holly berries formed a Christmas centerpiece in the middle. Twelve chairs clustered around it, eleven of them empty, though each place was set with his grandmother’s precious heirloom silver and china and the delicate cut-crystal goblets his grandfather had given her on their first anniversary. Long white candles in the center of the table ate their way steadily through the slowly disappearing wax.
“It’s this way every year,” the butler whispered. “She sets this lovely table and Cook prepares a special meal, but no one ever comes to share it with her.”
Justin glanced around the empty room and some long-buried painful emotion swelled inside him. He surveyed the table that had been so lovingly set for the family that wasn’t there and the frail little woman who sat hunched over all alone, and regret rose like bile in his throat.
Hearing the butler’s familiar voice, the tiny white-haired woman turned. When she spotted Justin, tears began to slide down her sunken, wrinkled cheeks. “Justin…?” She started to rise, trembled, and Justin strode forward to help her, catching her wrist, noticing how fragile the bones felt in his hand.
“I’m here, Grandmother.”
She smiled up at him, a tender, loving smile that seemed to melt some barrier inside him. It wrapped around his cold, empty heart, filling it with warmth, carrying him back to the days he had lived in the house, reminding him of the few years of his boyhood he had ever been truly happy.
“I’m so glad to see you,” she said. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
His heart beat dully, painfully. A crushing weight seemed to settle on his chest. “I should have come sooner.”
A veined hand reached up, lovingly caressed his cheek. “It’s been so long … so many years. A thousand times I tried to picture what you would look like. You’re all grownup now.” Her thin lips trembled. “I missed all of that … all of those years.” They curved into a wistful smile, puckering the skin around her mouth. “My, you are so handsome.”
His throat felt thick and tight. He could hardly swallow. How could he have treated her so badly? How could he have simply ignored her for all of those years? Something was stinging, burning behind his eyes. He felt the wetness clinging to his lashes. He told himself it could not be.
He never cried. He was a cold, emotionless man. He wasn’t the sort for tears.
He gruffly cleared his throat. “My wife is here, Grandmother. She’s been eager to meet you.” The only real reason he had come. If Ariel hadn’t persuaded him, he wouldn’t be here now. And his grandmother would be eating another Christmas dinner alone.
His chest knotted, squeezed painfully.
His grandmother reached out and took hold of Ariel’s hand. “I’m so glad to meet you, my dear.”
In the light of the candle, he could see the sheen of wetness in Ariel’s eyes. “As I am to meet you. Justin has talked of you often.” It wasn’t the truth, but it made his grandmother’s face light up.
“Has he?” It was a sweet little lie, and he adored Ariel for it. “I was afraid he would forget me.”
“Oh, no,” Ariel said quickly, discreetly dabbing at a drop of moisture. “He would never do that.”
“No, Grandmother,” Justin said gruffly, his throat aching, hurting so much it was nearly impossible to speak. “How could I possibly forget?” And suddenly he knew it was the truth. He had loved this little woman, the closest to a mother he had ever really known. He’d loved her then and he loved her still.
For so many years he had hidden his feelings, buried them so deep he thought he had lost them completely. The detached, emotionless man he had become had been certain he had no heart. Now he felt it, beating there inside him, aching with what he realized with complete and utter awe was love.
“My wife has fashioned a present for you, Grandmother.”
She smiled with sheer delight. “A present? For me? But I have nothing for you in return. I didn’t—”
“You’ve made us a beautiful supper. You’ve brought back sweet memories that had all but faded. Those are gifts enough.”
Ariel handed her the silhouette she had worked so hard to make, and his grandmother accepted it with a frail, shaking hand.
“Why don’t we sit down so you can open it,” Justin suggested, noticing his grandmother was beginning to tire.
He helped her back to her chair, and they sat down one on each side of her. She carefully pulled the red string around the brightly wrapped package, then lovingly touched the plaster silhouette, tracing the shadow of his profile.
“It’s beautiful,” she said with a fond look at Ariel. “Such a precious gift.” She was up again more agilely than the first time. “Come, I’ve the perfect place to hang it.”
Justin took his grandmother’s arm and helped her into the drawing room, Ariel beside them.
“See?” She pointed toward a group of portraits hanging on the wall. “I painted them after you were gone. I wanted to remember you exactly as you were.”
Half a dozen watercolor images lined the drawing room wall. They weren’t exactly perfect, but the likeness was passably good.
And all of the portraits were of him.
If he’d had any doubt left that he still possessed a heart, now he knew for certain, for it broke and crumbled in two, aching fiercely where the pieces lay scattered inside his chest.
“You look like your father, but you have your mother’s stubborn chin.” The old woman smiled. “I imagine you can be as set in your ways as she was.”
“I thought you had forgotten all about me,” he said softly, gruffly.
“You were the son I never had. I’ve thought about you every day since the night they took you away.”
He bent down, enfolded the little woman in his arms. He couldn’t stop the tears that slid down his cheeks. “From now on, things will be different, I promise you. You can come and live with us. There is plenty of room and—”
She drew a little away. “Poppycock. This house is my home.” Her thin, veined hand brushed his cheek. “But I would love to come for a visit … if that is all right with you.”
He nodded, forced a smile, caught Ariel’s trembly smile above the old woman’s head. “Of course it is. We would love to have you.”
“And we’ll come back here as often as we can,” Ariel promised, her eyes glistening again.
In silence, they returned to the dining room, where supper had been reheated and was ready to be served. There was roast goose with cranberry-walnut stuffing, quail eggs in aspic, turbot in cream sauce, peas, and ginger-glazed carrots, and for dessert the warm plum tarts that had always been his favorite.
It was a wonderful meal, filled with happiness and love. Justin felt like laughing and crying at the very same time. It was an incredible day, one of the best of his life. He had learned something about himself today, something that changed everything he had previously believed.
He thought of the feelings inside him that he had discovered, an emotion he knew was love. In truth, he realized, it was a feeling not entirely new to him. He had sensed it lately, whispers of it here, threads of it there. Every time he looked at Ariel. Every time he touched her, kissed her, simply watched her walking toward him across a room.
The feeling was so different, so frightening, he had shoved it away, refusing to examine what it was. Still it had persisted, grown stronger every day.
It was love, he knew with a certainty that reached into his very bones. Today he had discovered he wasn’t the cold, heartless man he had believed himself to be. He was a man capable of feeling, a man capable of love.
And he was very much in love with his wife.
He wanted to shout it, wanted to laugh out loud with the sheer joy of it. It made him want to sing. And it made him determined.
Once Ariel had loved him as he loved her. He wanted her to love him again. He wasn’t sure exactly how to make that happen, but he would, he vowed.
He wouldn’t give up until he did.
* * *
They spent two nights at the manor house in Reading as they had planned, then journeyed the following day back to Greville Hall. Before they left, Justin secured a promise from his grandmother that she would come for a month-long visit as soon as the weather grew warm enough for her to travel.
Ariel looked forward to seeing the dear, sweet lady again, though she wondered if by then they would still be residing at Greville Hall. She hoped so. Even Barbara’s bitter tongue couldn’t spoil the pleasure of living in the country, away from the noise and soot of the city, in a house that seemed to glow with warmth.
The long ride home was tiring, though the roads were less muddy and the journey not so difficult as before. It was late when the carriage turned down the tree-lined drive leading up to the house. Clouds gathered overhead, forming an opaque ring around a dull full moon. Thomas was already in bed, they discovered. Justin said a terse good night to his sister; then he and Ariel retired upstairs to their rooms.
“I’m glad to be home,” Ariel said with a sigh, standing in front of the mirror to pull the last of the pins from her hair. “But I am so very glad we went.”
Justin came up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. “So am I.”
She turned to face him, happy to remain in the circle of his arms. “I loved your grandmother, Justin. I feel as if I have a family again.”
“Yes, and soon we’ll have a family of our own.” His eyes said he wanted that to happen very much, and there was something else, something she had noticed more than once on their way home. Whatever it was, it was sweet and warm, and though she was tired from the journey, it made her want him to make love to her.
Sliding her fingers through his thick black hair, she pulled his head down to hers for a kiss. Beneath his clothes, she could feel his body tighten, feel the bands of muscles across his chest expand. Opening to him, she accepted the possessive sweep of his tongue, relaxed against him as his hands reached down to gently cup her breasts.
“Ariel…” he whispered, lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.
They made sweetly erotic love and afterward lay together, content just to hold each other. Eventually they drifted into an exhausted sleep, legs and arms entwined, her head nestled against his shoulder.
It was the smell of smoke that awakened her, sometime late in the night. Her eyelids felt swollen and heavy as she tried to drag them open, her eyes watering, burning, her mind whirling, refusing to congeal into solid thought. It took superhuman strength to haul herself upright on the bed.
Ariel gasped at the sight of the flaming curtains. The fringe at the edge of the carpet was also on fire, blazing little tongues of fire eating steadily toward them. Her horrified gaze swung to the door, but a wall of red-orange flame blocked the opening. Stifling a cry of pure terror, she reached a shaking hand out to her husband, who sprawled beside her in a deep, unnatural sleep.
“Justin!” She shook him roughly, frantically, her fear escalating, making her heart knock wildly against her ribs. “Justin, wake up! Dear God, the house is on fire!”
He blinked several times, his eyes coming open slowly, heavy-lidded and reddened. “What the devil…?” Groaning, coughing, he fought to clear the smoke-induced grogginess from his mind. He shook his head, saw the terror in her eyes and the flames that lit the room with an eerie red glow. “Sweet Jesus!”
Rolling to the side of the bed, Justin shoved himself unsteadily to his feet. With shaking hands, Ariel jerked her quilted blue wrapper up off the chair beside the bed and dragged it on to cover herself while Justin grabbed his breeches.
“The door is blocked by flames,” she said desperately. “There’s no way out except the window.”
Justin hurriedly fastened the buttons on his breeches as he urged her in that direction. “Then the window is the way we shall go.” Using his body to shield her as best he could, he backed her away from the burgeoning wall of heat.
In the hall outside the room, she heard the servants screaming, racing frantically back and forth, banging on doors.
“Fire!” someone shouted. “The house is on fire!”
Standing in front of the window, Ariel stared out at the narrow ledge that was the only chance they had for escape. “I don’t know if I can—”
“You’ll make it. We both will. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She looked up at him, saw the hard, fiercely determined set of his features, and some of her fear receded. She could trust Justin to protect her. Somehow he would get her out safely.
“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Ariel bit back a cry of fear as he disappeared into the smoke, then returned a few seconds later, coughing, pressing a handkerchief over his mouth. He was carrying a silver-headed cane she had seen beside his dresser. She had never known him to carry it. She couldn’t imagine why he would risk his life to get it now.
Then he pressed a small concealed button on the head of the cane, and the four-inch blade of a knife shot out the bottom. “Stand still,” he commanded, which he needn’t have done, since she was far too terrified to move. Kneeling, he quickly put the knife to use, slicing off the hem of her quilted wrapper to just below the knees, making it easier for her to move.
“Your feet are going to freeze, but you’ll be able to grip the ledge far better than you could wearing shoes.” He took hold of her hand. “Let’s go.”
Ariel stared out the window. “God, it’s so far down.” Though their rooms were only on the second floor of the house, the ceilings were so high in the drawing rooms it was more like the third.
“We only have to make it as far as that trough in the roof. From there we can climb down to a lower section. The fire hasn’t yet reached that part of the house. We’ll get someone to bring us a ladder.”
There was no more time to argue and really no other choice. Justin stepped over the sill and out onto the ledge, then reached back to take hold of her hand.
“Come on, love. Time to go.” With her fingers firmly clasped in his, Ariel could do nothing but follow, climbing out on the narrow ledge, then inching along behind him. The stone was icy cold, freezing her feet and cutting into the tender soles. For an instant, she glanced away, down at the ground, which appeared to be miles below. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she swayed a little. Justin slammed her backward against the wall of the house.
“Forgodsake, don’t look down.”
A shiver of fear slid through her. She dragged in a shaky breath and nodded for him to start moving again. By now, several people on the ground had realized what was going on. She heard several horrified gasps; then the onlookers fell silent, mesmerized by the sight of the lord and lady of the manor, half-naked and freezing, moving one painful inch at a time across the tiny ledge outside their bedchamber window.
The crackle and snap of flames filled the air as the raging fire charred its way through the roof above the room that had been theirs. A loud noise signaled the crash of timbers caving in. One of the bedroom windows they passed suddenly shattered, spewing hot, jagged shards of glass into the air. Justin hissed as one of them cut painfully into his thigh. He carefully pulled out the sliver and tossed it away.
She saw the blood oozing down his leg, and a soft sob came from her throat.
“It’s all right,” Justin soothed. “We’re almost there. Just a little bit farther.”
She inhaled a ragged breath, and they started along the ledge again, continuing inch by painful inch. Her feet were so cold she could no longer feel her toes. She prayed she would know if she stepped off the ledge and into thin air.
Justin reached the end of the ledge. “I’ve got to let go of your hand so that I can jump down. Don’t move until I’ve got you again.”
Ariel nodded. Justin released his hold and took a short leap that landed him on a lower portion of the roof, then reached up for her.
“Now it’s your turn, love.” His fingers closed firmly over hers. She started to jump, missed a step, and screamed as she felt the cold air rushing past her cheeks. Terrified, she squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself to land on the ground in a bloody heap.
Then she was in his arms, crushed against his powerful chest. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I won’t let you go.” He was shaking. She could feel the tremors moving through his tall, lean frame.
Ariel clung to him, fighting back tears, knowing how close she had come to death and that it was Justin who had saved her. He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Just a little ways farther. In a few more minutes, we’ll be down.”
She looked up at him, thought how much she loved him, and summoned a shaky smile. “Let’s go.”
Justin led her away from the flames, along the roof above the conservatory, taking it slowly, his grip so tight she couldn’t have gotten free if she’d tried. The ladder was waiting, propped against the roof, one of the footmen having guessed their intentions, and they made their way safely to the ground.
The moment her feet touched the earth, Justin hauled her into his arms. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He buried his face in her hair and clung to her so tightly she could barely catch her breath.
She laughed shakily, trembling with the aftermath of shock and relief. “I’ll do my best.”
Several of the servants ran forward, Silvie among them. “We were so worried, my lady.”
Her little maid wrapped her in a warm woolen blanket, and another of the other women came up, carrying a pair of slippers that came from God-knew-where.
“They’ve started a bucket brigade, my lord,” one of the footmen told him. “I’m not sure how much good it will do.”
Michael O’Flaharty arrived, carrying a pair of black leather riding boots. “These are yours. I brought ’em from the stables.”
“Thank you.”
Someone handed Justin a shirt, and he pulled it on over his bare chest. “Is everyone out of the house?” He glanced around, studying the faces of the people around him. “Where are my sister and her son?”
“I seen ’er ladyship ’eadin’ for the front door, milord.” One of the upstairs maids pointed in that direction. “She’s probably round front. But I ’aven’t seen the boy.”
Justin’s jaw went hard. “Stay here. I’ve got to find them.”
“I’ll find Mrs. Whitelawn, Thomas’s nanny,” Ariel said, forcing down her fear. “Perhaps they’re with her.”
Justin nodded and hurried off toward the side of the house, making his way to the front. He paused to speak to Frieda Kimble, his sister’s lady’s maid. The woman was shaking her head, Ariel saw with rapidly building fear, pointing wildly back toward the house.
Justin didn’t hesitate, just turned and started running—back into the flames.
* * *
Thick, black, choking smoke swirled around him, burning his eyes, clogging his lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
Justin pressed the sleeve of his shirt over his nose and bent low, trying to move beneath the stifling fog of blackness. Thomas and Barbara were still in the house, his sister’s maid believed, trapped perhaps in the boy’s third-floor bedchamber next to the nursery.
Justin reached the entry, turned, and looked up the stairs at the second-floor railing. The fire had started in the west wing and hadn’t yet reached the main portion of the house. But Thomas’s room was in the burning wing. If the boy and his mother were still there … Justin prayed Frieda Kimble was wrong.
Steeling himself, he started up the stairs. He had taken only a couple of steps when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. A man’s familiar voice stopped him where he stood.
“You needn’t go up there. Your sister is in no danger, and the boy is with his nanny.” Justin stared down at Phillip Marlin, saw the pistol pointed at his chest.
“I don’t remember inviting you to the party,” Justin said dryly as Marlin motioned him back down the stairs.
“We’ve matters to discuss.” Marlin’s lips curled. “I think the study would be best.”
Returning to the bottom of the stairs, Justin crossed the entry and started down the hall in that direction, the barrel of Marlin’s pistol pressing hard against his ribs. The study was on the ground floor of the west wing. He could see flames up ahead, hear the shouts of the servants working frantically outside, emptying buckets of water onto the fire in an effort to save the house.
Phillip motioned to the door of the study. Justin opened it and stepped inside. The fire was just beginning to burn in here. The curtains had just caught flame, and a tiny portion of the rug curled with red-orange tendrils. He could already feel the heat, coughed against the smoke that crept along the walls toward the ceiling.
Marlin smiled thinly. “You can’t imagine how much I’ve been looking forward to this.”
Justin’s jaw hardened. “Oh, I think I can. Your henchmen failed to kill me. If you want something done right, do it yourself—isn’t that about it?”
“Just about.” Phillip cocked the hammer on the pistol. “Such a sad tale. The Earl of Greville killed in the terrible fire that destroyed his home while trying to save his poor helpless nephew. Ironically, the child was already safe.”
Justin surveyed the gun, a silver-etched dueling pistol, one of a pair he had seen on the mantel in one of the drawing rooms. One shot. If he could just get a little bit closer he’d have a chance at blocking it. He eased forward. Phillip didn’t seem to notice, so he quietly moved again. Muscles tensed, he readied himself to leap forward.
Then the door to the study swung open and his sister walked in.
Justin clamped down on the coiled muscles straining for release. Barbara smiled at Marlin and his stomach curdled with nausea.
“Welcome, brother dear. Since you weren’t accommodating enough to die upstairs in your room, we’ve been waiting for you.”
He sadly shook his head. “Damn, but I hoped you weren’t involved.”
Barbara gave him her most vicious smile, which was heavily laced with triumph. “How could I not be? You tried to steal what should have been mine. I had to do something.”
“And the house? I thought this place meant so much to you.”
“With you out of the way, there’ll be money enough to build a dozen Greville Halls.” She tossed a glance at Phillip. “I believe we’ve waited long enough. Enjoy yourself, darling.”
Phillip’s smug smile and his unflinching hold on the pistol sent a chill down Justin’s spine. The flames crackled and popped. Something heavy crashed against the floor above their heads. Phillip’s finger tightened on the trigger and Justin lunged.
The gun went off the same instant he crashed into Marlin’s body, the shot echoing loudly in the confining space of the room, both men landing in a heap on the floor. Justin felt a burning pain in his side, and his head cracked hard against the corner of the desk. He fought the spinning in his brain, the dark circles closing in. Then the world began to fade and blackness descended, dragging him into unconsciousness.
* * *
Swearing softly, Phillip extricated himself from beneath the heavy weight of Justin’s body and climbed to his feet, brushing off his clothes. Holding a white lace handkerchief delicately over his nose, he coughed against the smoke beginning to grow thick in the room.
“It’s done. The Greville fortune is now your son’s—yours and mine to control once we are married.” Phillip reached for her, but Barbara stepped away.
For the first time he noticed the small ivory-handled pocket pistol concealed in the folds of her skirt. She raised the weapon, pointed it at the middle of his chest.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Men are such fools. And you, Phillip, are an even bigger one than I thought. Did you actually believe I would marry you?” She laughed, bitterly. “Did you seriously imagine I enjoyed the things I let you do to me? I have no intention of marrying you or any other man—not now or ever.”
Phillip looked stunned. “You can’t possibly mean what you’re saying.”
“Can’t I? You’re just like my father and every other man I’ve ever met, playing the fool for the favors of a woman, always thinking only of themselves.”
Phillip’s face turned an angry shade of red. “Why, you lying, deceitful bitch—” He took a step toward her, but Barbara’s hand tightened around the handle of the gun, stopping him where he stood.
“I am grateful to Father for one thing. Watching him with his whores, I learned how a woman could use her body to get what she wants. Thank you, Phillip, for making all of this so easy—” Phillip snarled and leaped forward, and Barbara pulled the trigger. For a moment he just stood there, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. Then they rolled back in their sockets and he crumpled to the floor, mouth open, staring sightlessly into space.
Barbara glanced around her, saw tongues of flame burning through the ceiling above her head, stepped out of the way as a section of plaster and burning wood crashed down on the carpet just a few feet from where she stood. Smoke and flames billowed into the room.
Coughing, ducking below the thickening smoke, she took a last look at the two men lying on the floor and smiled. Then she turned and walked away.
* * *
Passing in and out of consciousness, Justin groaned at the sound of the slamming door. His head thundered. Blood oozed from the gash on his leg. His side throbbed and burned like the sting of a thousand hornets. Dragging in a breath of smoky air, he coughed against the burning in his lungs and rolled to his knees. Gingerly he touched the bullet wound in his side and felt the stickiness of blood, but the lead ball had glanced off a rib and he didn’t think any real damage had been done.
That was twice that his sister had failed to kill him.
Justin swore softly, foully. Clenching his jaw, he shoved to his feet and moved unsteadily toward the door. Barbara wanted him dead. He vowed she had just made her last attempt.
* * *
The flames climbed higher into the black night sky. Terrified for Justin, unable to find Thomas, Ariel spotted Barbara hurrying out the front door of the mansion and started running toward her. She grabbed her sister-in-law’s arm and whirled her around.
“Where is Justin? Did you see him? He went into the house to find you and Thomas and never came out.”
“Thomas is with his nanny.”
“No, he isn’t. Mrs. Whitelawn is frantic. They got separated in all of the chaos and no one has seen the child since.”
Barbara’s face paled to the color of ashes. “Dear God, Thomas must still be in the house. We have to find him. God in heaven, we have to save him!” Turning, she started running back the way she had come, Ariel racing along beside her. Barbara jerked open the door and they rushed into the entry. The smoke was so thick it was nearly impossible to breathe. Fire roared out of the west wing. It wouldn’t be long before the entire house was engulfed in flames.
“Thomas!” Barbara shouted. “Thomas, where are you?”
“Justin!” Ariel ran toward the stairs. “Justin, can you hear me!”
The women flew up the sweeping staircase, turned down the hall toward the west wing, but a wall of flames and blistering heat blocked their way.
“The servants’ stairs!” Ariel whirled in that direction and both of them began to run. “Justin!” she shouted. “Thomas, can you hear me?” But the only reply was the roar of the raging flames and the explosion of shattering glass.
“Come on! We have to hurry!” Barbara reached the back stairs first, Ariel right behind her. Saying a silent prayer for courage, Ariel followed her up the smoky passage. They had almost reached the third floor when it happened. Ariel heard a thunderous crack followed by the loud, grinding sound of breaking wood. On the stairs ahead of her, Barbara screamed. Ariel gaped in horror as a portion of the stairway in front of her dropped away, collapsing beneath a wall of flaming debris, crashing three stories onto the floor below.
A cry lodged in Ariel’s throat as more heavy timbers plunged to earth, landing on the body sprawled below. Dear God. Dear God. There was no way that Barbara still lived. And any moment the rest of the stairway would cave in.
Fighting to control her trembling legs and the wild, erratic clattering of her heart, Ariel backed carefully down the stairs, step by step until she reached the second floor. Smoke billowed up from the floor below and she coughed, desperate to suck in a breath of clean air.
Pulse thundering, she glanced upward. Barbara was dead, but what about her son? If Thomas was still upstairs, there was no way for her to reach him. Dear Lord, please, help me find the boy! But her prayer seemed nearly hopeless. And dear God, where is Justin? Was he trapped upstairs as well? Ariel’s heart clenched at the thought, though she staunchly refused to believe it. Perhaps he had found the child and both of them were safe outside the house.
Praying it was true, she started down the second-floor hallway toward the entry. Since the fire had yet to reach the central portion of the house, it seemed the safest route. Blotting out a lingering image of Barbara’s lifeless body pinned beneath the stack of heavy, burning timbers, Ariel raced toward the stairs. She had almost reached them when she heard the sound of crying—soft muffled sobs laced with choking fear.
Dear Lord, someone was still in the house! Coughing, ignoring the choking smoke that seared her lungs and the stinging in her eyes, Ariel started back the way she had come. “Thomas, is that you?” she cried. “Where are you! Please, you have to let me know where you are!” She tried one door, opened it to a barrage of flame, and quickly slammed it closed. Another door was so hot she couldn’t turn the knob. “Please, whoever you are, we have to get out of the house!”
Behind her, the door to a linen closet rattled. Ariel whirled toward the sound, saw it slowly open. A child’s tear-streaked face, black with soot, poked through the crack in the door.
“Thomas!”
The boy crawled toward her, his body shaking with terror. He stumbled to his feet, reached out, and wrapped his small arms around her, clinging like a small wounded animal.
“I’m … scared, Aunt Ariel. I’m so scared.” He started coughing, the spasms wracking his small body, making his voice sound hoarse.
“It’s all right, Thomas.” Ariel started coughing, too. “We’re getting … out of here.” She slid her fingers through the boy’s dark hair, gave him a quick, reassuring hug, then gripped his hand, and they started forward.
The smoke was thicker now, making it even harder to breathe. She was covered with soot from head to foot and rapidly growing dizzy. Bending low, trying to avoid the choking smoke, they made it to the sweeping staircase just in time to see Justin staggering out of the hall leading from the west wing.
“Justin!” she shouted, her voice no more than a high-pitched croak.
“Ariel! God in heaven!”
Tugging Thomas along beside her, she made it to the bottom of the sweeping marble stairs, tried to suck in a breath, then pitched forward. The last thing she remembered was Thomas’s small voice worriedly shouting her name.
* * *
Eyes watering, blood soaking his shirt and breeches, Justin staggered toward where Ariel lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. Thomas raced toward him.
“It’s Aunt Ariel! She’s hurt!” he cried, making the knot in Justin’s stomach tighten into a knot of terror.
Was she injured? Badly burned? Was she even still alive? His mouth dry with fear, he knelt beside her. When he heard her raspy breathing, he knew that she yet lived. Wincing at the pain that shot into his side, he lifted her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest, praying that she was all right. Together, they staggered for the door.
He and Thomas shoved it open, bursting out into the night and the cold, cleansing air.
Justin dragged in a lungful, coughed out smoke, and breathed the fresh air in once more. As he knelt again, his heart hammering with fear, he carefully lowered Ariel onto the grass a safe distance from the house.
A woman ran toward them. “Thomas!” Sobbing with relief at the sight of her young charge, the boy’s nanny rushed up and swept the child into her arms. “Oh, thank God.”
“He’s frightened, but other than that, he’s all right.”
She nodded, stroking the boy’s dark head. Then she saw Ariel’s limp form lying on the grass, and her plump face drained of color.
“Is she … Is her ladyship…?”
His jaw clenched. “She’s still breathing. Tell one of the footmen to go for the doctor. Tell him to hurry!” With hands that shook, he continued checking for burns as Mrs. Whitelawn raced off with her precious burden, heading for the stable, where the rest of the servants had gathered.
Justin’s side throbbed and his leg ached, but he barely felt it. His worry for Ariel overrode any feeling of pain. He found no sign of injury and yet she did not awaken. He shook her gently, spoke to her softly time and again.
“Ariel … my love, please.…” A thick lump formed in his throat. Perhaps she was injured inside. Perhaps even now she lingered on the brink of death. “Ariel, please wake up. I need you,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” He took hold of her icy hand, cradling the soft slim fingers, pressing his mouth against them. “I love you. I love you so much.”
He sat with his head bowed, his eyes stinging, silently praying, wishing he had told her how he felt long before this.
“Justin…?” Her voice floated toward him, deeper than usual, tinged with the rough edge of smoke. When he opened his eyes, he saw her reaching toward him. Gently she laid a hand on his cheek. “I was so frightened … so afraid you’d been killed.”
“Are you injured? Where are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “I’m all right. It was the smoke.… I just got so dizzy.…”
Relief washed over him. She was safe and well and she was his. He bent over her, pressed a soft kiss on her lips, gently kissed the side of her neck. “I love you, Ariel,” he said. “I love you so much.”
He felt her tremble. A tear slipped down her cheek. “I heard you before. I was afraid to believe it. I was afraid you didn’t really mean it.”
He ran a finger along her jaw. “I mean it. I’ve never meant anything more. I love you. I have for a very long time.”
“Oh, Justin. I love you so much. I never stopped loving you. I tried to, but I couldn’t. I know I never will.”
A shudder rippled through him, ran the length of his long frame. Joy and relief all mingled together. Wonder that a man like him should be so fortunate.
Wordlessly he helped her stand, and she swayed a little on her feet. Justin’s arms went protectively around her. “All right?”
She framed his face between her hands. “I’m all right. As long as I know you love me, everything is more than all right.”
Justin bent his head and kissed her. Bloody and hurting, with Ariel in his arms, he knew she was right. Nothing else mattered. Everything was perfect.