Page 21 of Along Came a Rogue

“Of course.”

For a heartbeat he stared at her incredulously. Then, grinning broadly, he murmured appreciatively, “Good girl.” He gestured toward the settee. “Get behind that.”

She did as ordered, and standing at an angle to the door, he raised the pistol and fired. The ball hit the lock and shattered it, the metal pieces falling away. Dropping the spent pistol, he kicked hard at the door, and this time, it broke open with a splintering pop.

With a snarling whoosh, smoke and heat poured into the room. Rolling flames curled across the ceiling.

“Emily!” he shouted over the noise of the burning building, calling her to come to him.

But she was frozen in fear, her eyes wide as they stared at the flames. Even from across the room, he could see her shaking violently.

He rushed to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the door. When she saw the flames engulfing the hallway, she screamed and jerked back with terror. His grip tightened around her wrist so she wouldn’t be able to pull away, so tightly that he was certain he bruised her. But he refused to let go.

“Come on—we’ve got to go. Now!” He dragged her into the hallway and straight into the raw heat of the fire.

Forcing her to crouch low beneath the billowing smoke, he pulled her along behind him as he half crawled down the hallway toward the stairs, moving as quickly as he could beneath the lowering wall of smoke. But she could barely walk and still shook violently with fear, and she coughed and gasped as she struggled to breathe in the thick smoke.

As they reached the stairs, Hedley raced up toward them. A damp cloth was tied around his mouth and nose, an ax gripped in his hands. When he saw Emily, he grabbed for her arm.

“I’ve got her,” Grey yelled. “Get the others out of the house!”

“They’re all outside.”

“Then get yourself out!”

“I’m not leavin’ you, Major.”

“Go! Get to the stable and hitch up the team. Quickly! We’ll be right after you.”

With a worried frown, Hedley nodded and turned to hurry down the stairs and back through the burning house. A good soldier, Hedley would never disobey orders, and Grey was counting on that. He needed to get Emily far away from here as quickly as possible.

“Come on, brat,” he coaxed. He slipped his arm around her waist to help her down the stairs, their way nearly black with smoke and lit only by bright flashes of searing flame.

But she was too overcome to follow, and her legs crumpled beneath her. He scooped her into his arms as she fell, her body frighteningly lifeless, her arms unable to cling to him as he cradled her against his chest.

Slipping his hand behind her head to press her face against his shoulder and protect her from the heat and swirling billows of smoke, he carefully descended the stairs, then carried her through the house and out the front door into the cold night.

Around them, everything was confusion and panic. The two male servants had given up on the house, letting it burn to the ground in favor of attempting to dump water on the outbuildings and save whatever they could of the farm. A sobbing Yardley huddled by the garden wall, staring incredulously at the flames now engulfing the roof and spreading down to the ground floor, unable to believe the terrible sight before her. The night sky was alive with flames and sparks, and all of it glowed like the fires of hell.

Forcing back the panic that pulsed through him, Grey laid Emily down on the damp grass. Her body slumped helplessly onto the ground. She coughed violently to clear the smoke from her lungs and inhale fresh air.

“Breathe, Emily,” he pleaded between his own coughs, his voice a raw rasp from the smoke as his hands squeezed her arms.

But she couldn’t catch her breath. Her mouth gaped open and closed futilely like a fish out of water.

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. “Breathe, damn it!” He wouldn’t lose her—he wouldn’t! “Breathe!”

With a violent, shuddering gasp, she inhaled sharply, her lungs finally finding air. She took rapid breaths now and gulped frantically at the cold air between pain-filled coughs. But she was breathing again, and relief fell through him.

Grey pulled her against his chest to press her close. As she continued to gasp, shaking with an occasional cough yet unable to speak, he rubbed his trembling hands over her back. The emotion that flooded over him with each of her deep breaths overwhelmed him, and his smoke-stung eyes blurred as he buried his face in her hair as she clung to him. A black streak dirtied her face, the hem of her robe was singed, her bare feet most likely burned—but she was alive. Thank God.

He rocked her gently in his arms long after her breathing steadied and her shaking calmed, long after her arms rose up weakly to encircle his neck. After coming so close to losing her, he now didn’t want to let her go.

“Dear God, brat,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Grey,” she mumbled against the bare skin of his neck, her voice scratchy and rough, “are you hurt—”

“Major!” The small carriage and two-horse team drove toward them from the stable, with Hedley mounted on the driver’s seat and the reins twisted around his hands, expertly controlling the skittish horses.