Chapter Sixteen

Trying to dislodge the icicles that had formed in her veins at the image of Alan flying through the window, Kirstie shook her head. Flames reached the edge of the bed, and the woolen blankets lit with a loud whoosh as a new blast of heat barreled toward her. She crawled farther away from the bed and pushed up to standing, but as soon as she did, smoke filled her lungs and she started to choke.

Falling back to her knees, she used the flats of her lower arms to crawl for the door to the other room. Her skirts stretched under her knees as the fabric pulled, and she had to stop to shimmy them up so she could keep going. When she started again, her arms slid on something slick, and she glanced down to see her hands covered in a dark red stain as the coppery smell filled her nostrils. She had to fight back the bile that threatened to spill over.

Blocking her retreat, the guard’s body was sprawled in front of her only exit. She attempted to pull at him, but with her arms still bound, she couldn’t grip and her fingers kept slipping from his clothes. Her eyes burned and her lungs ached as smoke filled the room. Sitting on her knees and looking around, the helplessness of her situation assailed her. She was trapped. She doubled over coughing as her eyes watered at the pain of the heat and black fog.

Alan had come back for her. She would not die here. Hamish had lied. There was no way he’d have raised a sword to her brothers. Why had she ever believed that arse?

She had to know Alan was safe.

Had he survived the fall? Would Hamish have killed him? She’d set out to save her family, but now, lying in a puddle of blood, she felt helpless. What a fool she’d been to believe she could be the strong one.

The knife.

It was still strapped to her leg. If she could get to it, maybe she would be able to get free. Closing her eyes to the smoke, she reached down and yanked up her skirts. She could reach the sheath but not the hilt to slide it out.

Pulling her hands in opposite directions, she screamed as the rope dug into the skin about her elbows. It worked. She had the knife in her hand.

Twisting her wrist at an awkward angle, she was able to slide the length of the blade between her arms. Slicing up, the tip slipped through and barely touched the end of her bindings.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she glanced around to see how close the flames were, but it was the smoke that had her gagging and making her eyes sting. It was so thick she could only see a red glow behind it. Positioning the knife again, she pushed as far under her bindings as she could reach. It caught on the rope, and she began frantically slicing, ignoring the pain in her wrists.

The dirk jerked up and fell from her hands, and she panicked because she couldn’t see it, but then as she moved, the twine fell from her arms. She was free. But she still had to get out of the room.

Crawling over the body, she centered her back on the wall, placed her feet on the side of the dead weight, and strained to push him away. She was surprised at how quickly it worked. There was a space large enough to open the door, but as she rose up, the black fog invaded her lungs and blocked her sight. Feeling for the knob, she grasped it and yanked open.

A whoosh of flames blazed past her head, and she thought they had landed on her as the heat washed over her skin. Leaping to get away from them, she bolted for the other side of the room. Fresh air filled her lungs, but the intake of breath still burned, and she coughed but continued to make her way into the hall.

Running for the steps, she didn’t bother to turn around to see the progress of the flames. She slipped on a lump at the bottom and braced for the impact on the hard wooden floor.

Strong, reassuring arms wrapped around her before she collided with the ground.

Alan.

Tears stung her eyes as she realized he was safe. The fear that had engulfed her as she’d seen his body fly through the window gave way to choking sobs of relief.

“Yer alive,” she managed to croak as her burned throat fought to release the words and her hand rose to cup his cheek.

“Aye.” His head leaned into her touch. “Are ye all right, kitten?”

“Aye, I just need some air.” Och, it hurt to speak.

He rushed her out into the night. Cool rain dotted her skin and made her shiver, but she welcomed the liquid as it washed the smoke and heat of the flames and the blood from her flesh. Guiding her toward the stable, he didn’t slow until they were a safe distance from the crackling old wood of the building.

As they came to a halt, his hand slid down her arm, and his body stiffened. Holding her out at arm’s length, he twisted her from side to side in a frantic appraisal then said, “I have to go back in.”

“Nae. Are ye mad?” Her fire-fevered skin froze, and dread clenched at her heart.

“The innkeeper and his wife are still in there.” He clasped onto the sides of her head as he dipped to kiss her soundly before continuing. “Stay here.”

She nodded and fought back the urge to latch onto him and not allow him to return to the inferno.

She yelled to his back, “I love ye. Be careful.”

His retreating form shrank as he ran back toward the burning inn, leaving her, cold, wet, alone, and afraid he wouldn’t make it back out.

Moments later, the front of the building collapsed.

…

Alan bounded back into the burning building much lighter, knowing Kirstie was safe. He was determined the couple wouldn’t meet the same fate as his mother.

As he reached the steps, the smell of burning wood and smoke invaded his nostrils and made him shudder, but he paused only long enough to drag the body from the bottom. He couldn’t risk it being in the way when he escorted the innkeepers down the stairs.

Ominous clouds of smoke filled the open spaces and the flickering reds and oranges on the ceiling. Alan’s heart hammered, but he beat back the fear and continued for the second floor to the room labeled private, knowing time wasn’t on his side. He was shocked at how fast the flames had engulfed the wall at the top of the landing where Kirstie had apparently left the door ajar in her escape.

Reaching the top, he scrunched against the other side and ran the length of the short hall. Luckily, the door was still shut to the room where the flames had started, but the heat pouring off was hellish and expelled eerie screeching and popping noises.

At the door, he pounded and yelled, “Get up.” Pounding again, “Ye must get up!”

An answer did not come quick enough, so he backed a couple steps and ran for the door to ram it. His whole body seemed to shake with the impact, and his shoulder screamed at the brutal use of it, but the door remained shut. The hall was filling with flames and would become impassable in seconds.

He retreated to try the assault again. This time as he braced for impact and expected to hit the hard wood, the door swung in, and he flew through the air to land on the floor. The innkeeper stood over him, gazing into the hall.

Jumping up, Alan slammed the door shut just as the terrible sound of boards collapsing and shuddering in the wake of the inferno’s path shook the whole building. Darkness immersed the room in its shroud as the floor tilted forward and he almost lost his footing again; the man standing only in his shirt slammed against the wall.

“We have to get ye and yer wife out. The whole inn is about to collapse.”

The man ran for another room, just as his wife came around the corner wrapped in a large plaid and holding a small candle that lit her frightened face.

“Is there another way out?”

“Aye, this way.” The innkeeper grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her toward the back of their apartment. Alan followed the couple as they ran, but it was hard to see anything else in the dim light.

They rushed down a set of steps that led to the back of the inn. Relief washed over him when he realized they wouldn’t have to climb out a window. He’d seen enough of those tonight.

He vaguely recognized a kitchen as they rushed to a door that let out to the back of the inn. He took a moment to let the cleansing rain wash over him as his eyes continued to adjust to the absence of light. Sparing a glance for the innkeepers, he saw the man had his arm around his wife as they watched their livelihood burning to the ground.

“I have to get to Kirstie,” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran around the burning structure.

The flames lit the night on this side of the building, and he had no trouble seeing her form crumpled to her knees with her head in her hands, not looking at the building in front of her. She must have thought he was still inside.

He knelt in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in for a reassuring embrace. Startled, she pulled back, but then her arms flew around him, nearly tackling him to the ground.

“I-I thought…”

He knew what she couldn’t voice, the fear that he was gone, the same torturous grip and anguish that had been wrapped around his own heart and stolen his breath from the moment he’d learned Hamish had taken her away.

“Shh,” he soothed as she cried into his chest, and he let his hand run down her slick hair as his other hand kept her pinned to him with the need to keep her near. “Dinnae cry. I’m all right.”

He tilted her head up so that her gaze met his, and he finally felt whole again, like God had not forsaken him and that his efforts and prayers to save her and all the Camerons had been fruitful.

His mouth covered her lips as he savored the velvety smoothness of the soft flesh and let himself go. He didn’t hold back; all the years he’d denied himself her touch had been torture, but no more, they belonged together. Tongue sweeping in to tangle with hers, he lost himself in her warmth and the love, trust, and need he could feel in her response. He was barely aware of the wreckage burning so close. She’d always been able to make him forget the world around him.

This… This, her touch, her adoration was what he wanted to experience every day for the rest of his life. Knowing now he wasn’t the monster his father had been, he would prove to Lachlan that he was the best match for Kirstie and he would happily spend eternity keeping her happy. She deserved that.

He let the waves of desire drag him under, let all the insecurities wash away with the receding tide of doubts and fears. Almost losing her today had nearly killed him, and he drank her in now because he’d thought he might never get the chance again.

A thunderous bang exploded, pulling him from the sweet caress, but he kept his arms locked around her. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder toward the ruins, he became aware of the heat radiating out to where they stood at a safe distance away. Burning beams of the second floor had collapsed in on the first and lay heaped in a fiery mass that lit the yard. His eyes were drawn to Hamish’s body still on the ground near where they’d landed. A sudden urge to protect Kirstie and keep the view from her eyes had him averting his gaze quickly so he didn’t draw hers to the sight.

When he turned back to her, he sighed with relief that he’d gotten to her in time. She was safe.

Still wrapped in his embrace, a tremble wracked her and his gaze skimmed down to take in her soaked appearance. A dripping dress that left the top of her chest and shoulders exposed clung to her curves. She had no plaid to protect her from the chill of the night or the rain. He cursed himself for not getting her out of the rain immediately.

Unwinding his arms from around her, he took her hand and guided her to the stables a safe distance away from the inferno behind them.

Once inside, the musty smell of wet hay mixed with leather and manure, but he ignored the assault on his senses as he twirled her to face him.

“Look at me, kitten. I’m sorry I couldnae get here sooner. Are ye sure ye arenae hurt?”

“I’ll be bruised, but I’ll be all right.”

He placed a finger to her lips and traced them tenderly. Her rigid frame relaxed, and as her gaze softened, he wrapped his free arm back around her waist to draw her near. She smelled of smoke and rain, and despite or maybe because of the reminder of the events of the day, he’d never wanted to hold her more than he did right now.

Not knowing how to explain the relief and joy he felt inside, he lowered his lips to hers and closed his mouth in a kiss meant to persuade her that she was all that mattered to him. His tongue darted into her mouth and swirled around hers, seeking and giving the reassurance that this was to be theirs, that the unspoken dreams he’d kept locked away in a secret part of his heart he’d never acknowledged to anyone, even attempted to keep hidden from himself. They would always be together, and he would never deny that need again.

His father might have guided every decision he’d made in the past, but now Alan would follow his own heart, not the illusions of a man he’d never really known. He was his own person, and Kirstie was the one who had unlocked the man who had hidden from his past.

His hand slid up her side and shoulder to thread into her hair as his fingers twined and tangled into the soft wet strands and held on as if his life depended on it. Trying to impart all the passion and longing and love that coursed through his veins with just the mention of her name, he poured himself into that embrace. She was his world, and now that he’d given into his desire for her, he could never go back to Kentillie without her by his side, so he let her feel his devotion in his kiss, that she was everything to him.

He only knew he had succeeded when she deepened the embrace as her hands closed around his sides and her fingers dug into his ribs to draw him closer. The slight feminine moan that escaped beckoned for him to release the primal fierce desire he felt to claim every inch of her body and assure himself she was unharmed.

Trailing a hand down to her ass, he nuzzled her to his swollen cock and relished the feel of the way they fit. Shifting his hips to rub against the intimate part of her that he wanted to claim, he groaned with the need that had come on fast and fierce.

He’d forgotten the world around them until he heard a throat clear and felt a hand on his shoulder.